by L. L. Frost
His shoulders tense, muscles straining at the seams of his shirt. “So you admit to not liking me.”
“You affect my emotions.” I draw in another breath. The rich ozone of demon caresses through my senses, like the first whiff of double chocolate decadence cake. It makes my mouth water, and my tongue flicks out to taste more of it. “Frequently, it’s dislike.”
When he leans closer, his voice comes out with the rumble of landslides. “And other times?”
I shove him against the ovens, arms looping around his neck to drag his head down to mine. My limbs shake with the desire to wrap around him, to trap him in my embrace while I take my fill of his energy. It’s been too long since the last time I allowed myself to do anything more than skim through brief touches against their skin.
My tongue sweeps across his lips, greedy for entry, and his mouth opens willingly. I thrust in deep to find the well of energy that always waits at the back of his throat. It scorches my mouth, slides down my throat, and ignites an inferno in my belly.
His hands dig into my waist to drag me higher until my feet leave the ground. A hard bulge nudges at the gap between my thighs, and I slide one leg up to hook around his hip. His large hand cups behind my knee, dragging us into alignment, and I ache for the frustrating pleasure of his heat through our clothes.
I undulate against him, my head tilting to slide across his mouth at a different angle. His tongue rolls against mine for dominance, and I fist my hands in his hair in warning. This is my meal. I control what happens right now.
With a growl, he pulls back. As a reward, I curl around his energy with gentle hooks and yank it into myself. He groans, his hands squeezing my ass as he grinds against me.
Unexpected pleasure rolls through me, and not the kind brought on by feeding. This feels different. Hollow and yearning. A soft mewl escapes my throat, and I freeze in shock.
Tobias’s mouth leaves mine to drag a hot, wet line down my throat. Teeth graze the large muscle between my shoulder and neck, eliciting another needy sound to slip past my lips.
Scared, I push at his shoulders. “Wait, stop.”
“What’s wrong?” His fingers knead my ass, but his head lifts, the whites of his eyes completely obscured by his pupils. “We were just getting to the fun part.”
My leg drops, and only his grip keeps me in place. “I’m full.”
“Liar.” When his breath ghosts over my face, I shiver at the hot caress of fire. “You’re never full.”
I lean forward, irresistibly drawn by the promise of more power, but that other emotion halts my movement. What is this yearning? I know desire, it draws me. I know lust, I feed off it. But humans’ obsession with sex, I’ve never understood. Beyond it being the most expedient way to reach the energy I need to live, sex is a necessary act, nothing more.
With Tobias, though, I find myself wondering if there might be more to it. Earlier, with Kellen, too, when he talked about the way he wanted to touch me. None of it had been about his own pleasure. These demons confuse me, and I hate the uncertainty it leaves me with.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Tobias cups my cheek, and I flinch back from the gentleness.
“I’m back to not liking you.” I push at his shoulders, body stiff as I wait for the backlash of my rejection.
His cock presses against my stomach, still hard and ready. This is when most men would make demands. Would harangue me for being a tease. I can whammy humans, but powerful demons are another matter entirely. I’ll be lucky if I can run away.
Unexpectedly, the weight in the air lessens as Tobias slowly sets me on my feet at arm’s distance from his body. “I’m sorry I pushed.”
My mouth drops open. That’s it? This from the demon who chased me through the house after my last rejection of sex? Of course, I dumped scalding tea on him last time. But he was being a huge asshole.
“That’s okay.” Cautious, I step out of reach.
Instead of lunging after me, he picks up the box of pellets from the counter before he checks his watch. “Did you need anything before I go pick Emil up?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.” My overly polite tone matches his.
“Make sure you soak up all the energy before you leave.” He glances down at the oven. “You don’t want to leave any for the ign-- for Torch to feed on.”
I raise my chin. “I know that.”
Already, the energy built by his lust seeps through my skin to spindle in my belly alongside the rolling mass of power already there. Like calls to like, and I only need to stay here for another ten minutes to absorb it all.
“Then, I’ll see you at home,” he says, and I watch in bewilderment as he walks toward the back hall.
Once the side door opens and closes, I slump against the ovens.
What the hell was that, and how am I supposed to deal with it?
(un)Encouraging
“Emil, come on!” I shake the locked bathroom doorknob.
Tobias fixed it after Emil broke the door my first day here, and now it blocks me from my rightful time in the bathroom. I rattle it again. “I told you last night I needed to be out the door at the same time as you!”
No response comes from the other side. The shower shut off ten minutes ago. What could he possibly be doing in there?
“Emil, if you don’t get your icy ass out of there, I’m going t—”
The door swings inward, and a cloud of steam rolls out. Emil stands in the opening, one white eyebrow arched. “Go on.”
“Holy pink bathrobe.” I clamp a hand over my mouth to hide the grin, then point at the robe swaddled around his body. “Is Kellen messing with you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sniffs in disdain as he pushes past me.
The fluffy pink robe doubles his natural size, making him resemble a giant ball of cotton candy. The sleeves cover his fingertips while the long hem brushes the floor as he sweeps toward his room.
Mentally adding bunny slippers to his Christmas list, I hurry into the bathroom, kicking the door shut with one foot as I strip out of my sleeping shorts and tank top. When I twist on the shower faucet, it runs boiling hot for half a second before it peters out to lukewarm. Asshole didn’t even leave me any warm water. Looks like he’s still holding a grudge from the one time I accidentally drained the tank.
I rush through my shower, but even so, I’m shivering and covered in goose pimples by the time I step back onto the plush bathroom mat and wrap myself in an oversized towel. The blow-dryer helps, and I spend a little too much time with it aimed at my exposed collarbones and arms rather than on my hair.
A thump against the door, followed by a soft chuff, lets me know Emil let Tac out, which means the ice demon is on his way to the kitchen. After Emil and Tobias leave for work, Tac usually climbs into bed with me, his enormous body and wings dominating the lower two-thirds of my bed.
Will he be lonely when I start going to the bakery every morning? Will he be left locked up all day? The idea bothers me more than it should. Tac’s lived with Emil since knights still roamed the British Isles in tin-can suites.
Blow-dryer aimed at my head, I reach over and pop the door open. Tac wedges it open farther with his head, his saucer-sized green eyes blinking sleepily.
I rub the soft place between his tufted ears. “I gotta go to work today, buddy.”
His chainsaw purr bounces off the tiled room as he wedges himself farther inside to bump against my leg. I turn the blow-dryer on him and his eyes narrow to slits, the fur around his eyes fluttering.
The rumble increases, and I laugh. “You like that?”
Emil appears from around the doorframe. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the shop in twenty minutes?”
Still smiling, I glance up at him. “Look at this.”
I aim the blow-dryer over Tac’s head, and the beast sways to stay within the stream of warm air. Emil watches for a moment, his gaze interested as it moves between the dryer and Tac.
“You want me to
do you, too?” I raise the little machine toward him, and he steps back.
With a tug on his cuff to straighten his sleeve, he turns away. “I’m not a pet, Ms. Pond.”
Oh, Mr. Fussy Pants made an appearance. He hasn’t called me Ms. Pond since the first time we met at the bank. Thoughts roll through my mind as I click off the dryer and set it on the counter. Is he being stiff because I caught him wanting to be pampered like Tac? There’s no shame in that. No reason for him to get his back stiff over it.
I stare down at Tac. “I think he really wanted the blow-dryer.”
His ears swivel in agreement.
I nudge the beast until he backs out of the bathroom to let me escape. He follows on my heels as I head upstairs to my room at the top of the tower. There, I quickly change out of my towel and into the heat resistant, black slacks and tank top I laid out earlier. The summer heat makes it too warm for a long sleeve shirt, and a box of chef coats wait at the bakery.
Stepping into a pair of neon-blue clogs, I clomp downstairs. The silence in the house lets me know Tobias and Emil already left, but when I get to the kitchen, I find a to-go cup on the counter with a yellow sticky-note attached to the top. Excited warmth fills my chest as I rush forward to see what the guys left for me.
Neat block letters stand out against the yellow paper: Don’t catch the bakery on fire. —T
Bemused, I tuck the note into my pocket. Is that like telling an actor to break a leg? Some kind of backward encouragement? Or does he really think I’ll burn the bakery down before I even open?
Shrugging it off, I grab the to-go cup and walk to the door. I have employees to train today.
***
When I arrive at the bakery, I find a HelloHell Deliveries van already waiting in the back parking lot. The time on my dashboard reads seven-fifty-five. I’m right on time, but the van looks like it’s been there for a while with the engine shut off and the driver’s seat leaned back.
Grabbing the paper bag off the seat beside me, I climb out of my car and circle the front of the van, fingers trailing over the hood. Cold. They’ve been here for at least half an hour, if not longer. I tap on the driver side window, and the guy behind the wheel jumps. Brown hair flops across his forehead to cover giant brown eyes, and his narrow shoulders hunch up around his ears. Philip looks as childlike as the last time I saw him. How does he not get pulled over for underage driving?
As soon as he recognizes me, he pushes open the driver’s door. “Ms. Pond! I have your imps ready.”
He rushes around to the passenger side and slides open the large door. Inside, the five imps huddle together, their rounded eyes blinking against the sudden brightness.
If anything, they look even less ideal for employment at a bakery. Dressed in a motley of stripper themed attire, complete with platform shoes, and high ponytails, they bring with them a cloud of coconut oil.
I turn to Philip. “Julian remembers this is a bakery, right?”
The imp shrugs. “Boss said you’d be giving them uniforms, so they just dressed from the miscellaneous bin.”
“Thank god for the alley entrance.” I wave for them to come out. “Let’s get you guys inside before anyone sees you.”
Philip shuffles back and forth as they timidly exit the van. “What time should I come back for them?”
I glance at him from the side of my eye. He chews on his plump lower lip as his eyes dart around the parking lot, as if worried about imminent danger. “What time is it safe for them to go back?”
He freezes, his voice turning squeaky. “Six?” At my frown, he rushes to add, “I can come earlier. I’ll just drive around the city for a bit.”
“No, six is fine.” I shift the heavy paper bag from one hand to the other. “We have a lot to cover today.”
But the timeline worries me. Ten hour days are fine leading up to the bakery opening, but what happens after that? I plan to operate from two in the afternoon until three in the morning, which will have me, or the other baker, in the store no earlier then ten am.
Will Philip park behind the shop every day, waiting for someone to arrive and take the imps off his hands? How long before one of the other businesses calls the cops on the suspicious van?
Something to consider, but not now. “Thank you for bringing them.”
“That’s what I’m here for!” He inches closer. “And if you need anything else…”
I take a large step away as he flutters his eyelashes at me. “No, I’m good, but thank you.”
“Let me know if you change your mind!” But he scurries away so fast I can’t tell if he’s serious or forcing himself for his job.
Not that it matters. I’m not into children, no matter how old they are on the demon plane. And right now, the idea of feeding off someone who’s not one of my roommates makes my skin crawl. Tobias’s chaotic energy dances around Emil’s slow ice and Kellen’s crackling lightning, the three power making a cohesive, warm ball.Somehow, I don’t think another person’s energy, even a minor imp’s, will play nice inside my body.
Those destruction demons are binding me to them more and more every day.
I push the thought away and heard the imps into the alley, then through the side door. “Okay, let’s see how this goes.”
Tricked
Scrubbed clean of coconut oil and redressed in chef’s clothes, I can finally get a read on their scents. The imps give off the distinctive odor of baby powder and mud. Great, mischief imps. Just what the store needs. But they quickly prove themselves to be fast learners as they whip the already clean shop into sparkling perfection.
When I spot one carrying a shallow bowl of milk toward the sink, I stop it. “No, leave the milk where it was.”
Hesitant, the imp stares down at the bowl in its long fingers. “It will sour.”
“We’ll put fresh milk out before we leave tonight.” I take the bowl and place it next to the bank of ovens where a plate of bread also waits. “I’m hoping to lure a Domovoi.”
Doubt fills the imp’s voice. “We are far from Domovoi territory.”
“There are a lot of immigrants in the city.” I stand and brush my hands on my coat. “One might have come in the move from the old country, then become stuck in a house that doesn’t know how to treat it.”
When the imp continues to watch me uncertainly, I wave it away. I know it’s a long shot. The house spirits are rare these days, even in the eastern Slovakian nations. Science made people move past the silly superstition of needing to court a house spirit to protect their homes.
But, if there’s even a chance of one being lured to my bakery, I want it. They’ll protect the kitchen, take care of Torch, and might even help out with the baking if they’re especially happy. At the very least, they’re better than any security company at keeping the bakery safe while I’m not there.
I walk back to the prep counter and finish moving cupcakes out of the baking pan and onto the cooling rack. The slight temperature difference in the ovens here made the first batch come out over baked, but the second batch looks perfect with high, golden domes. The test stick came out with moist crumbs clinging to the sides. Just enough to keep the cupcakes from drying from residual baking.
The rich scent of vanilla bean fills the store, masking the new paint and furniture smells. A few more days, and it will linger in the air all the time, beckoning customers to come in and try the small cakes.
My attempt to demonstrate the baking process to the imps hadn’t gone well. It turns out none of them can read a recipe, and the precise measurements needed for baking fell on deaf ears. When one imp dumped an entire bag of sugar into the industrial mixer, I’d shooed them away and told them to stick with cleaning for now.
But with enough cakes now ready for when the potential new baker shows up, and the store clean enough to serve food off the floor, I need to find something else for them to do.
I glance around at the imps. In their over-sized chef coats, with sleeves rolled up around their wrists and h
airnets over their ponytails, they all look the same. “Who said they knew how to work a cash register?”
A light brown arm shoots into the air. “Kelly does.”
“Okay, Kelly.” I try to find any defining feature that will cement its name to this specific imp. It’s slightly taller than the other androgynous being, but that’s it. “Go wait at the front counter.”
As Kelly hurries through the swinging door, I grab the brown paper bag I brought in earlier. “Everyone else, come over here. I have some studying for you to do.”
I upend the bag’s contents onto the table in the center of the room and magazines slide across the stainless steel surface. I’d chosen a variety of Home and Garden, Pierced and Punk, Men’s Muscles, and Cosmopolitan.
The remaining four imps peek over the edge of the counter in wide eyed interest as I spread the magazines out for them. “Look through these, see what you like.” I sift through until I find the human diagram I drew up the night before and prop it up. “Just remember, one head, two arms, and two legs. You don’t have to change your forms, but I want you to know that there are more options than Julian has shown you.”
I should pick up a baby name book, too. Julian just slaps names on as the imps arrive at his business. They might not like what they were given and should have the chance to choose.
Excited chatter follows me out as I walk to the front where Kelly waits, perched on a short step stool to be able to reach the register. “Have you ever used a touch screen before?”
The imp shakes its head in the negative.
“When a customer buys something, you find the image on the screen and touch it. Let’s say I’m buying a cupcake.” I lift a menu and point to the image of a vanilla cupcake with a pink rose piped on top, then tap the screen. “First you go to dessert, then select the cupcake picture—”
“It does not have a rose on the picture,” Kelly interrupts.
