Chapter Nine

Coco

I sit on the couch, cross-legged, and huddled underneath a blanket. The blue glow of my phone screen illuminates the makeshift fort I’ve created. My pajamas are on, my face is washed and moisturized, and my teeth are clean, this means my phone should be put away. I have a very strict rule of no phone before bed, but I can’t resist. Ever since the press event this morning, I’ve been desperate for a moment alone to watch Vale’s new movie trailer.

On screen, Vale—no, Khastor—sweeps his costar into a passionate kiss. My face heats, remembering our own kiss earlier today. I know he was giving the photographers what they wanted, but it had felt so real, so electric. More real than any kiss I’ve had before.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the memory, but it’d be easier for me to try to breathe underwater right now. The feeling of his lips hungrily pressed against mine; his rough hands dragging across my back, pulling me close, with only my dress’s thin fabric separating us. I’ve never felt this attracted, this alive since my first intro class to magical dysfunction. All my past relationships have always been more businesslike than romantic. They have all fizzled out naturally, ending with polite handshakes and promises to stay friends. This new, overwhelming lust is foreign territory. A small voice whispers in the back of my mind to be careful, reminding me he’s not actually my husband, and that wasn’t a real kiss, but I ignore it. I need to find my thermometer because I feel feverish, my skin prickling with unfamiliar heat.

Vale’s voice drifts in from the back door, humming some catchy pop tune I don’t recognize as he returns with Mariah from their nightly walk. Even though I hear his steps on the back porch, I still hastily close the video and reflexively toss my phone on the floor as soon as the door opens.

“Everything alright?” he asks, seeing my startled expression. He bends down to unhook Mariah from her leash and tenderly removes her harness so she doesn’t snap at his fingers. They’re both slowly warming up to each other, in their own unique ways. I caught Vale trying to pet her as she gobbled down dinner tonight.

“Yeah. Fine,” I say, my throat tight. I climb down to the floor to retrieve my phone and shove it into my nightstand drawer. And while I’m on the ground, I give Mariah her goodnight pets, avoiding Vale’s curious gaze. He shakes his head and disappears into the bathroom to presumably brush his teeth, oil his horns, and change into his pajamas.

“Goodnight, little gremlin,” I coo, kissing the fuzzy spot between Mariah’s ears. She snuggles into her bed with a contented sigh as I flick off the lights and climb into my bed. A few minutes later, Vale emerges. I pull my blanket up to my chin and keep my eyes glued to the ceiling as he crawls into the sleeping bag on the floor.

The floor creaks as he adjusts, trying to find a comfortable spot. “My poor back. I hope I get some sleep tonight. You keep a spare wheelchair at the office, right? I think I'll need it soon.”

The words tumble out before I can stop them. “You can sleep up here tonight. If you want.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, silently cursing at myself. But it’s too late. What’s done is done. The silence stretches on forever before I hear him moving. Vale doesn’t say anything as he lifts the comforter and the mattress dips as he crawls in next to me. There is no pillow wall to protect us this time. His body is so close, his arm brushes against mine, unbidden. The image from earlier today replays in my mind. His amber irises flashing with light as I removed his fake horns. I may have been imagining it, but I swear I saw smoke leaking out of his eyes before he bent down and kissed me.

He still smells like sweat and hay, just like earlier, but there’s a new undertone of mint from his toothpaste. My mind replays the kiss over and over again. The front of my silk pajama shirt feels as scratchy as wool against my pert, sensitive nipples. I press my legs together, trying to suppress the deep ache I feel down there. Stop it, I tell my body, as if that will stop my sex hormones from filling the air and embarrassing me. The kiss didn’t mean anything. He’s just a good actor. But as I think it, part of me hopes I’m wrong.

Vale tastes the air with his tongue and lets out a muffled grunt. I sneak a glance at him, worried I’ve made him uncomfortable. To my surprise, I notice the telltale tenting of his erection. Even under the thick comforter, I can see the outline of his bulge. My heart rate kicks up another notch as I raise my eyebrows. How big is he, exactly?

This is inappropriate, I should look away, I know I should, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away—

My phone vibrates once from inside my nightstand drawer. And again. And again. As someone sends a barge of rapid-fire messages.

“Sorry,” I mumble, rolling over to check the messages—more beach selfies and turtle pics from my parents—and turn it off. “It’s my mom. She and my dad are on the other side of the world. Sometimes she forgets about the time difference. It’s on silent now.”

“You can answer her if you want,” Vale says softly. “It's not bothering me.”

I sigh heavily, toying with the wedding ring still on my finger. The publicist told us to keep them on for continuity in our Nymphstagram pictures. “I can't. I really don't have the energy right now. She wants to know how the clinic is doing. I keep screening her calls and messages because I don't have the heart to tell her the truth. And I can't keep lying to her.” Now with Halloween around the corner, followed quickly by Thanksgiving and Christmas, my guilt keeps growing. Even with our busy schedules, this will be the first time my family’s been apart for all the major holidays.

The mattress dips as he rolls to his side to study me. I keep my eyes glued to the ceiling. I have no idea how I’m going to sleep tonight. Maybe I’ll take the floor instead.

“Why not just tell her the truth?” he asks.

“My mom is a big deal in the psychology world,” I explain. “Like when you were talking about that famous acting coach–”

“Sylvia Stardust.”

“Yeah. Mom's like that. But a hundred times worse. I get embarrassed when other therapists learn I'm related to her. It’s like finding out Freud is my great, great uncle that I see at family reunions. The funny thing is, she's finally coming around to me working in magical dysfunction. I don't have the heart to tell her yet how epically I'm failing.”

Vale scoffs. “You're not failing—”

Finally, I turn my head on the pillow and give him an incredulous look. It’s easier to face him like this, his charming smile and cunning eyes shrouded by darkness. All that is visible is the vague outline of his horns and face. “The only client to step foot in my door this month is a demon who is technically already cured, and a faerie who vacations here in the winter. I'm not even his primary therapist. I had to commit perjury to convince you to help fix my clinic, because even though I worked at a research lab in college treating demons, I still have no clue how their minds work. And I'm not even sure the changes we’ve made are enough to convince them to give me another try. I think it's time to finally admit it . . . I'm not good at my job.” I hold my breath, waiting for the truth of that statement to lift the heavy weight off my chest, but it only doubles in size.

“That's not true,” he says, matter-of-fact.

I can’t help but snort. He was singing a different tune less than a week ago. “How would you know? You're not my patient, remember?”

“I can tell by the way you talked about your work during the interview. No one that passionate can be a bad therapist. It’s . . .” He pauses, searching for the word.

“Insane?” I suggest.

He chuckles, and the warm sound caresses my skin. “Yes. But in the best way possible.”

I lean in, grinning. “What if I’m a bad therapist, and just a really good actor?”

It may be dark, but I can still spot his eyes roll. “We both know that's not true,” he deadpans. He pauses, and reluctantly adds, “You're right . . . about my stutter. It is anxiety related. Being home brings up a lot of old memories.”

I rest my head back on my pillow, eyes locked on his silhouette. “Not all good ones, I take it?”

He shakes his head with a bone-deep sigh. “No, not all good.” His tone brightens, and I can imagine him smirking at me. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I wasn’t always the handsome beefcake of a demon you see before you right now.” He gestures broadly to himself. “I was a pretty big dork, actually,” he adds, all his humor deflating.

Interesting. Being a huge nerd myself, I have no problem detecting my own kind. But with Vale, it’s hard to imagine.

“It made me an easy target for bullies. Peers, even teachers, picked on me because I didn’t fit the stereotypical demon type.”

I frown, even though he can’t see it. “I'm sorry you went through that. It must have been tough.”

The sheets make a rustling noise as he shrugs. “It was what it was. But you know, the bullying wasn't even the worst part of growing up here.”

I tilt my head curiously to the side. “What do you mean?”

He hesitates, his breath catching slightly. I can almost hear the fight going on in his mind, debating whether or not to share more. Finally, he makes a decision. “The statue my friends and I destroyed . . . Alaric Infernus cost me a really important scholarship when I was a teen, and whenever I saw the statue, it would always remind me of what I lost. ”

“Really? What happened?”

Vale pauses as he searches for his words. Even though we’re barely touching, I can sense the tension in his body. “As you can imagine, the demon private school in town is expensive. Too expensive for my parents to afford.” He laughs ruefully. “They’re probably the only demons in our whole species who are bad with money. But we managed with a partial scholarship I received every year. All I had to do to maintain the scholarship was to write an essay about the history of Winter Bliss every year.”

He stops, and I wait, willing him to continue. If he really was my patient, I’d be perched on the edge of my seat, holding my breath. I don’t know why, I always thought this saying was cliched, but I feel on the verge of a breakthrough with Vale.

After a moment, he continues, his voice low and raw. “My second year, I decided to write my essay on the true history of Alaric Infernus. I spent months researching, digging up old records. The panel loved it, said it was the best essay they'd read in years.”

“But you didn't get the scholarship?” I prompt gently.

His laugh is callous and leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. “Nope. Although the panel of judges included townsfolk not employed by the school, Ambrose Infernus—the school’s administrator and direct descendant of Alaric—convinced the panel that my research was false, and they rejected my application. He said I was 'spreading lies about a town hero'.”

My heart breaks for little Vale. “That's awful. It must have been devastating.”

“It was,” he says quietly. “Both my parents had to pick up second jobs just to cover my tuition. I hardly ever saw them after that, they were so busy working to pay for things. When they rejected it, it felt like—like the whole town was rejecting me. Not just the bullies at my school.”

As he speaks, I feel the air shift between us. His vulnerability, his willingness to share a painful part of his past, creates a new feeling of intimacy. Something deeper than the attraction I’ve been fighting. I resist the urge to reach out and comfort him. “Is that why you and your friends destroyed that statue?” I ask softly.

The bed groans as Vale barrel rolls over me, straddling me with his long, lean thighs. It all happens so fast; my only reaction is a quick inhale of surprised breath. He balances his body so he’s not crushing me under his weight. I can see what he means about not being the stereotypical demon type—on the scale of muscular, he’s more lean and lanky rather than broad and bulky.

“What’s going on?” he asks playfully, running his palms along the sides of my torso like a TSA agent. “Are you wearing a wire or something? You're not getting a full confession out of me, Dr. Sullivan. ”

I explode into giggles as he reaches the spot just above my hips. “Stop! I'm ticklish!” I kick underneath him, trying to push him off, but his knees stay glued to the bed.

His hands trail back up my body, over my shoulders; his hands against the silk, and my skin is lighting me on fire. Every nerve ending seems to come alive under his touch. His hand brushes up my neck, until he’s holding my chin. “You want to know the truth?” he asks, his voice dark and thick.

I nod, my throat too tight to speak. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it.

He bends forward, leaning in close . . . too close. His mouth hovers above mine. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my lips as he grins. “Too bad. You’re not my therapist,” he says, leaning so close the tips of our noses touch.

He kisses me then, claiming my mouth, before I can register his words. All thoughts of professionalism, of the complications this could cause my clinic, disappear from my mind. In this perfect moment, there is only Vale, only the feeling of his lips on mine. It’s a good thing his body is anchoring me into the mattress, or else I’d float away.

“Gods, you are beautiful,” he whispers softly, breaking away to catch his breath. He runs his fingers through my short hair, and I’m glad he can’t see my blush—how his words affect me. If he’s acting right now . . . I don’t want to know. Even in the dark his gaze is penetrating, making me feel like he’s cracked my chest open wide, and he’s examining every intimate part of me.

His exploring fingers tickle my earlobe, brush over my jaw, until he reaches my swollen lower lip. My tongue darts out and licks his finger, which earns me a throaty chuckle. He adjusts his body, careful not to crush me, as he slides down, hovering over me as he rests his weight on his forearms.

As he leans in for another kiss, panic seizes me. “I haven’t done this in a long time,” I say in one rushed breath. I silently kick myself for opening my stupid mouth. Who cares? It’s not like I’m taking a test I forgot to study for.

But it feels important. I’m worried what Vale will think of me when he finds out I have a failing grade in sex. I spent most of my twenties in school; I barely had time to eat and sleep, let alone date. The fact that I have a couple relationships under my belt is a miracle.

Vale lifts himself up and studies my face. Finally, after a moment, he smiles. “Me either,” he says with a laugh. “Big dork, remember?” He points to his face. I know he’s not laughing at me, but I still feel a knot of apprehension in my gut.

“We can press pause for tonight,” he offers.

“No.” Absolutely not. If there’s no relief tonight, I’m going to explode.

His smile turns into a wide grin. “Or we can take it slow.” He wraps his arm around me, and shifts my upper body, so we’re facing each other on our sides. Pressed into each other once again, where we belong. The bulge of his cock, covered by his sweatpants, presses into my lower stomach and I muffle a groan.

I lift my head, ready to tell him I’m too desperate for slow, it has to be hard and fast or not at all, when I notice him unbuttoning my silk shirt with his free hand. I hiss out a breath as soon as the cool air kisses my nipple.

Vale cups my left breast, testing its weight like an apple at the grocery store. He lets out a primal rumble of satisfaction that reverberates through my chest. I gasp as he rolls the pad of his thumb over my hard nipple. I tilt my head back and sigh softly, pressing my pelvis into his hardness, desperate for any kind of relief he’ll give me.

“Not so fast, Doctor,” he says in a low, strained voice as I begin to rock against him. Rubbing myself against his length, feeling the heat of his cock all the way through our clothes, like two hormonal teenagers fumbling around in the basement of their parents’ house. Something I never got to experience because yet again, I was always buried in my books. He reaches down and stills my hip. “I haven’t finished my assessment yet.”

I’m mid-eye roll when he bends down and licks a line around my breast. I shudder, leaning into his hot mouth. The sharp edges of his teeth brush against my skin, teasing me, as his tongue laps languid strokes over my nipple, rolling the tip from side to side .

I bite my lip, stifling a moan, as he sucks harder. My fingers wrap around the base of his horn, touching the cold metal of his monitor, to urge him on. My cunt pulses in beat with my heart, and a ridiculous thought enters my head that almost makes me laugh. It’s been so long; I could probably come like this. He hasn’t even reached below the belt, and I already feel myself on the edge.

As if reading my thoughts, his hand moves down my stomach, reaching the top of my shorts. Instead of snaking his hand inside like I expect, he roughly palms the front of my shorts. The fabric rubs against my aching clit, and I tilt my head back, releasing a moan.

Vale releases my breast with a pop. “I can feel how wet you are for me, even over your clothes.” His grin is sinister.

He is a devil. A demon, sent from some other dark realm to torture me. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, a whine caught in the back of my throat, as a deep hunger takes over me. My inner muscles throb, clenching with need, as I rub myself against his flat palm. The friction feels good, but it’s not nearly enough. I need more. So much more.

He meets my eyes in the dark and makes a tsk sound, shaking his head slowly. “Such a greedy girl. Don’t you know good things come to those who wait?” he says, dragging out the word ‘come’.

“Please Valefor,” I whisper, rocking against his flat palm. “I’m not above begging. You want me to beg? ”

His eyes shine in the dark with an unnatural orange light. “Yes.” For a split second, I catch a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, at odds with his commanding tone. But before I can process it, desire overwhelms me.

I claw closer, until my bare chest is pressed against his. The thick, almost velvety texture of his skin is heaven against my aching nipples. “Please. Touch me. Stop teasing me. I want to come. Please, let me come,” I babble like a fool.

“Maybe there’s a compromise we can find. A deal we can strike, perhaps?”

I let out a low whine as he pinches my clit through my shorts. I’m not even fully naked, but he has me open and raw. Anxiety loosens its hold on me; my mind is too muddled to remember why I was feeling nervous in the first place.

Vale shifts, changing his position in the bed so he’s sitting up with his back pressed into the wall. He moves me too, pulling me into his lap so I straddle his hips. I drape my hands around his neck; my hips aching from opening so wide.

We sit there a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. The air is tight and electrified between us. “Take what you need,” he orders, his voice carrying a hint of breathlessness that doesn't quite match his authoritative words.

I start to rub myself up and down his length, over his clothes, like we really are teenagers. My eyes widen as I slide down the side of his length, stunned by his size. I’m glad we’re taking it slow. I’m not sure I’m ready to take all of him yet.

I grind faster, chasing the feeling. I teeter close to the edge, but it’s not enough friction. I end up losing it at the last second. Vale watches me with a satisfied gleam in his eye, more than happy to let me do all the work. Typical. Yet there's a subtle tension in his shoulders, as if he's holding back or unsure.

He’s finding pleasure too. I can tell by his deep, throaty grumbles, and the way he leans into me, giving me better purchase. As ridiculous as this may seem, this moment of over-the-clothes grinding is more sensual than any time I’ve been naked with another man.

I start to pant, my thighs burning, but I can’t stop. I’m so close—so very, very close. Vale pulls me into his body, sucking on the sensitive skin of my neck. He’s going to leave marks, I’ll have to wear a turtleneck for work tomorrow, but I don’t care.

"Is that enough to make you come? Or does my greedy girl need more help?" he asks, his voice wavering slightly on the last word. The moment passes so quickly, I wonder if I imagined it.

“More,” is the only word I can force out. My mind is too hazy, too drunk, to say much else.

“You make me do all the work,” he sighs. “Lift your hips. Higher. Good girl. ”

I obey without a second thought. When I’m in the correct position, my ass in the air, he slides my shorts down over my curves. I use his shoulders for balance, taking a moment to admire the muscles there, as I kick the shorts off my feet. I’m left with panties and an open shirt clinging to my arms.

Vale makes a pleased sound as he palms my cunt. After a moment that stretches on longer than eternity, he pulls the edge of my underwear to the side, exposing me. I groan into his shoulder, my skin so hot and sensitive down there, that cold air feels like a brandishing iron.

“Valefor,” I practically sob, my legs trembling, as he slides his fingers between my labia. Every nerve ending in my body screams. When he reaches the crest, he presses the pad of his fingers against my clit. My back bows, my knees lifting me higher off the bed.

“More?”

“Yes,” I whine.

Without another word, the tip of his index finger notches at my entrance. His thick finger slowly enters me, until he reaches his knuckle. My inner muscles clamp and unclamp around him in anticipation. The pressure in my stomach continues to build, until I’m clinging to his shoulders, gasping for air. Vale edges me closer and closer, slowly dragging his finger out, just to pump inside me again. He uses his other hand to balance me, kneading his rough palm into my bare ass .

“I’m going to—” I rasp, leaning forward to press my face into the crook of his neck.

“Come on my cock,” he orders roughly, pulling me forward.

I cry from the loss of sensation when he removes his finger, but I quickly forget the torture when he lines me up with the tip of his cock. The fabric is so wet from my fluids and his, it feels like there’s almost nothing between us.

He forces me down, my clit rubbing along the underside of his length. The rough drag of my sex over his clothes is the last push I need to fall over the edge. I come crashing down with a sob of relief. The muscles in my thighs burn, and if it weren’t for Vale, I wouldn’t be able to hold myself up. He rubs up and down his length a few more times, dragging out the pulse of my orgasm.

He follows quickly with his own relief, as he leans forward into the curve of my neck with a groan. His entire body shudders as hot liquid spreads against the front of his sweats. He rubs me up and down his length one more time, just for good measure.

We collapse onto the bed, languid and shivering. Vale brushes my hair off my wet forehead, and kisses me there, his lips still hot. Just as sleep starts to pull me under, the mattress dips as Vale pushes to his feet.

I’m vaguely aware of him in the bathroom, and the sound of running water. He returns a few minutes later, stark naked, and climbs back into bed with me .

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he mumbles softly, moving my body around easily as he slides my panties down my legs and tosses them over his shoulder. He helps me shimmy out of the sleeves of my shirt as well.

“I don’t like to sleep naked,” I protest. I blink, trying to keep my heavy eyelids open. I eventually give up and let them close.

He scoffs, pulling into his chest. “Too bad.”

His arms tighten around me, reminding me of the same position I found us in after our first night together. I snuggle deeper, feeling as safe as I did that morning. His cock starts to perk up, pressing into the cleft of my ass. I lean into it, not so afraid of his size now that I’m high on dopamine. As much as I try to fight off sleep, it’s impossible. As I start to drift, that logical voice in the back of my mind softly warns me of future consequences and how this will affect my clinic. But in this moment, wrapped in the arms of my pretend husband, I can't bring myself to care. His touch, his scent, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, it all feels too right. As consciousness fades, a final thought drifts through my mind: Even if this is just another role for him, for me, it's becoming all too real.