Chapter 17

Casimir

A glance in the mirror shows me that things are, largely, back in order. We made the collective decision not to attempt reversing the spell we botched. The details of what Amon did to ruin it are unclear, since he conveniently ‘can't remember,' so we fixed the problem with scissors, razors, and dye.

My hair is black once again, although it shines with a pink undertone when the light hits it right. Truth be told, I actually really fucking love it, but Amon can never know.

My puffball pubes… well, they're gone. Smooth as silk down there.

We've been digging for days, searching for either a specific spell or a way to manipulate one to suit our needs. Amon's age advantage allows him to establish telepathic connections with certain other demons. He's been collecting data from his sources while I'm stuck reading and browsing the internet.

It's surprising—and a bit unsettling—to find the vast amount of factual information about demons and witches that exists online, given that most people are unaware of the existence of either.

I return to the extra bedroom we've been using, finding Amon sprawled out on his stomach. One leg is hiked up beside him, making the muscles of his ass pop in a very distracting way. I drop onto the mattress, sliding an arm under his chest and hauling his giant body against mine.

His eyes narrow as I pull him closer. "What are you doing?"

"Kissing you," I whisper, stopping just before our lips touch and watching the cycle of emotions cross his face.

"Why?"

"Because I want to."

Surprise flickers over his expression for a moment before he schools himself back into his signature nonchalant boredom. "You've never kissed me for no reason. Either you want to fuck, or you need a favor."

"No," I whisper, my heart accelerating into breakneck speeds behind the cage of my ribs, exhilarated by the open way he watches me. It's like after all this time, all the history we share, he's finally seeing me, and I don't know how to handle it. "Right now, I just want to kiss you."

"This is different," he murmurs, his eyes darting around my face.

"Oh, darling." I swipe my thumb across his cheek, dropping the gentlest of kisses there. "Everything's different, isn't it?"

Something crosses over him, an emotion that I don't have time to identify, and then he presses his lips to mine. This isn't the heated, frantic kisses we've shared in the past, when we're heading towards a goal. This is slow and lazy, a cruise on a country back road with no destination in mind.

Finding solace in each other's company.

Being together just for the sake of it.

It's terrifying as it is electrifying, and I can't get enough.

His tongue pushes into my mouth, sliding and twisting with mine, as our bodies tangle. We're both hard, but neither of us makes a move to take this any further. The deep kisses and gentle touches, soft murmurs against skin and fingers through hair… it's enough.

It's everything.

Suddenly, Amon separates us and turns his head, pain eating at his features. "What are we doing, Cas?" He pulls away, and I can tell I've lost the moment as he sits up and scrubs his hands down his face. As much as I want to reach for him, as much as I ache to comfort him, I give him his space.

"What are we going to do?" he asks, stress turning his voice jagged as the conversation circles back to the inevitable topic we can't move past.

The problem we can't solve.

"We'll figure it out," I say with confidence I don't have.

"Rory's going to find out, Cas. What then?"

And what a fucking question. What do we do when Rory realizes that the spell he cast is fading? When he finds out that his command over us is slipping, and that our tether to this realm weakens every day?

What do we do when the compulsion to return to Hell becomes too much?

"Keep searching, Amon, there has to be a—"

All at once, we both sit up straighter, and my hand clutches my heart at the sudden ache that registers. Our eyes meet again, full of concern.

Rory.