9. ISAAC

Chapter nine

ISAAC

O ne week before the contest, a couple of show officials stopped by to do an interview and get clips of the shop. I wasn't guaranteed a slot in the TV coverage—there was only so much free space they had for participants, and with so many florists in the running, they usually reserved the main portion for the finalists—but they still wanted to be prepared.

I'd only started watching the show virtually last year, after losing all motivation to go to the contest in person. Or anywhere, really. Were it not for Ash and his appetite for ambition, I probably would've been doing that this year, too—sitting on my sofa, alone, wishing I could partake, but telling myself I never would. It wasn't the same as being there, amidst the action, seeing it all in real time, especially since it usually aired months after the event, but I'd pretended it was a fraction better than missing out entirely.

It was crazy to think I'd be seeing it from a different perspective altogether. Doing exactly what I'd said I'd never do. Not just crazy. Scary , actually, but it was too late to get cold feet about it now.

The programme was split into two parts. On Saturday, the presenters would scout the showgrounds, get involved in the activities, interview gardening experts, and give out the results of the smaller competitions. On Sunday, it was all about the three-round main event and highlighting the florists skilled enough to make it through to the finals. That was where the clips of the participants would be played—a bit of insight into the contestants and what made them tick to give the viewers someone to root for. I'd never been on television, and I was nervous as fuck about the prospect, but also… excited?

I hadn't even grumbled when Ash had offered to dress me up in fancy clothes that morning.

"So, Isaac," the interviewer, a short man with specs and a friendly smile, said. The cameraman was behind him, lens trained on me, and I did my best to ignore it lest I sweat right through Ash's efforts. "Now that we know more about you and where you're from, can you tell us anything about the plans for your showpiece?"

The showpiece.

That was the one thing that wasn't coming to me as easily as I'd thought it would. I'd done a few trial runs earlier in the week, tried an assortment of different arrangements, used different flowers, even let Ash pick out some randoms to see if anything clicked, but nothing felt quite right . They were all beautiful, some more extravagant than others, but they lacked that WOW factor that all the previous winners had.

The vision in my head was vague, but I knew it had to be memorable, otherwise what was the point? I only had one shot.

"I have a few ideas," I half lied, twisting my fingers in my lap. "Nothing's set in stone yet. We'll see what happens."

Without thinking, I glanced over at Ash, who was circling the flower buckets, pointing to the more exotic blooms as he was trailed by the other official and cameraman. He had insisted on wearing something a little more in tune with his elegant, otherworldly nature—first impressions, and all that—and I couldn't fault him for the decision. If I didn't end up on TV, he definitely would—as a special guest, probably.

He looked beautiful, as he often did, even without trying. But the slips of yellow-and-green silk paired with the baggy pants he'd chosen reminded me of the demon who'd appeared through a puff of smoke in my bedroom only two months ago.

Except… different.

Somehow.

"A surprise, how exciting!" The interviewer—Mike, I thought his name was—beamed before checking the script in his lap, tapping it with finality. "Well, I think you've answered all our questions. We appreciate you taking the time to speak with us, and we wish Miller's Meadow the best of luck. Is there anything you or your partner would like to add? "

The camera panned to Ash, who was already sashaying over to me. He stood at my side, resting a hand delicately on my shoulder. It was a friendly gesture for the cameras, but a signal of support for me.

"No, I… just… thank you for the opportunity," I said.

Mike gave an approving nod before his eyes drifted up to Ash and he smiled expectantly.

The demon chuckled, low and sultry. "Oh, nothing from me, Michael. I'm only here to flirt and look pretty."

I rolled my eyes, and the interviewer laughed under his breath but clearly thought the role was being performed perfectly. "Alright then." He slapped his knees and stood, extending a hand for me, then Ash, to shake. "I guess we'll see you both at the show. Have a wonderful rest of your day."

"You too."

They gathered their equipment quickly, but by the time they were ready to leave, Ash had managed to convince the official he'd shown around to order a bouquet for her wife. I wasn't exactly well versed on the rules, but she'd paid for it, so technically it couldn't be classed as bribery, right?

Ash didn't seem to think so, but promised to wipe her memory if it came up as such.

I didn't doubt him.

Once we were alone, I switched the sign to Closed and sighed as if my lungs had been detaining all my breath. There was an odd sense of giddiness in my belly, a warm, eager feeling that made me want to either dance around like no one was watching or tear Ash's clothes off. Or both. Simultaneously.

The interview had gone off without a hitch. I hadn't let my mouth run away with me or said anything embarrassing. I hadn't panicked or buckled under the pressure when they'd asked me to show off my skills. It was almost too good to be true, and I half expected to wake up at any minute with everything in ruins.

I may have pinched myself, just to be sure.

"You did splendidly, petal," Ash assured me, reading my mind as he often seemed to do. He tilted my chin up with his finger. "How are you feeling?"

Good.

Exhilarated.

Horny?

Instead of using words, I stretched up to kiss him, my tongue seeking entry with a flick across the seam of his lips. He didn't deny me, his chest rumbling with an approving hum as he opened up, accepting my enthusiasm and responding with his own. That fluttering in my stomach intensified, a surge of wild, glowing energy that rapidly flooded south. My hands fell to his arse, squeezing the soft globes as I ground my hips forward, showing him exactly how I felt.

He smirked approvingly against my lips. "In a good mood, then?"

" Very good." I mouthed at his jaw and neck, my dick perking up at the soft moan that escaped him. "I want you. "

"I'm pleased to hear it." It was permission if I'd ever heard it, especially when he tipped his head back to let my teeth sink into the juncture above his collarbone. But instead of letting me take it further, he tugged gently on my hair, drawing me back. He snorted at my pout. "I am very much on board with being ravished, my dear, but first I want to deliver on a promise. A treat, if you will."

I perked up like a dog being offered a bone, and how sad was it that I fully recognised the comparison? "Which one?"

"You'll have to follow me upstairs to find out."

"If this is about what you said last night... about teaching me how to deepthroat? We can do that right here."

"It's not, but I haven't forgotten that either. So…" With a feather-light touch, he palmed the bulge in my jeans. All thoughts left my head on a moan, and I couldn't stop myself from swaying into the friction. "If you're a very good pet, and you do as I say…" He clamped down, startling the most undignified whine from my throat. " And be patient, I might give you both."

I nodded dumbly—willing to do his bidding, whatever that entailed—before allowing myself be led upstairs.

It wasn't until we'd reached the living room and he'd magicked the furniture closer to the walls that he turned to me, smirking impishly. "Ready?"

I snorted, examining the big circle of space with some apprehension. Was he going to summon something? Or was he going to sacrifice me to another demon lord? Where Ash was concerned, it could have been either. To keep me on my toes.

"I haven't a clue what's about to happen, but sure." I shrugged. "I'll trust you."

"Foolish," he chided, though it was fond, so I doubted murder was on the agenda. Except, he did start peeling off his shawl and crop top, and he only ever took off his fancy clothes when he didn't want them to get dirty or he was getting ready for sex.

I hoped it was the latter.

That thought was torn from my head when a towering pair of bird wings erupted from his back in a graceful swoop. A gasp left me, and they unfolded and fluttered as if craving the air between each orange feather before settling behind him in an impressive arch. Tendrils of what looked like fire—but could have been magic in its three-dimensional form—twined up the length of his horns like an endless snake, and all I could do was blink, taking him in.

I wasn't a stranger to the horns, had gotten quite used to them, but the flames were new, and though I'd seen his feathers and glowing eyes before, all of it together made him look absolutely divine. The irony wasn't lost on me. His wings, especially, granted his appearance a more magical edge, and my fingers itched to reach out and see if they were as silky as they appeared .

"Can I… touch you?" I heard myself say, expecting him to refuse as he had before. Instead, he let one wing fan out, extending it fluidly towards me.

"Go ahead," he said, standing stock still, though his feathers ruffled in front of my face as if enticing me to touch.

I remembered him saying they were sensitive, so once my fingers finally trailed along one of the wispy blades, they were tentative, gentle. I refused to hurt him for the sake of my curiosity, or be the cause of any discomfort, but I also didn't want to squander my chance.

He may never let me near him like this again, so I was making the most of it.

Each long, narrow feather was the colour of the sky when the sun disappeared below the horizon. That bright orange glow that made everything just a little more beautiful. They quivered with my exploration, showing their range, and it was a wonder how something could be both fragile as satin yet strong enough to carry a full-grown being in flight. But by some celestial blessing, there they were, ethereal and bold.

Just like Ash.

"Would you like to see my phoenix form?" he asked, his eyes having stayed on me the entire time, and seriously, was that even a question?

Hell yes, I wanted to see it!

"Yes, please."

"So polite," he teased before moving back, perching himself on the arm of the sofa and taking a long, steadying breath .

With a click of his fingers, the flames from his horns swelled and spread over his body, veiling him from view. I panicked, swaying on my feet as if preparing to leap in and save him. Not my brightest idea, no, but when was the last time self-preservation held me back?

Thankfully, a rescue mission wasn't needed. The inferno vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving no trace of charring or ruin, only a large, rust-coloured bird with such a pristine and regal air about it that I couldn't have mistaken it for anyone other than Ash.

A startled laugh burst out of me, more disbelief than amusement. Two months ago, I'd been adamant that magic and the supernatural didn't exist. And even if there had been a chance to deny the circumstances of Ash's appearance, there was no way to ignore the very real mythical creature perching three feet in front of me, tilting its head as if reading my thoughts. The bloody thing was almost taller than me. Granted, it— he —sat on the edge of my sofa, but still. No bird should have been that size. Not on Earth, anyway.

He was easily twice the height of a peacock, and had a similar body shape. His head and tail were the main differences. They were covered in lush plumage, the feathers the same hue as in his other form, but they flared out—on full display as if he was trying his best to impress me.

It worked.

"You're beautiful, Ash," I murmured, scritching the soft feathers near his head when he nudged my hand. He trilled happily, puffing up some more, and I couldn't help laughing at the fact that, even in bird form, he managed to be a smug arsehole. "Such a vain birdy."

After several long moments, Ash shifted seamlessly back to his more human appearance, keeping the horns and wings. He also wore that ‘something different' I'd spotted earlier. I could have been imagining it, what with my emotions up in the air, but it was as if there was a change in the way he looked at me. Under his smirk, it wasn't just lust anymore. It was tender. Reverent. He'd shown me his true phoenix form because he trusted me, and why did that make my heart stutter?

"Do you approve?" he asked, clearly pleased with himself—as he had every right to be—but there was something else there.

Something unsure .

"Yes," I said without hesitation, and content with the answer—if the expansion of his chest was anything to go by—Ash flexed his shoulders, his wings beginning to recede.

I stopped him with a hand on his bicep. "Stay like that… Please." He cocked an eyebrow, but stalled the shift, tilting his head curiously. I swallowed down the stray nerves. "I want you. Just as you are."

It was slight, but Ash seemed taken-aback by the request. His arrogance and sense of self-importance faltered, and if I had to take a guess, I'd wager that was a sensation he had no experience with. The skin between his brows creased, and his eyes, though alight with fire, softened with the realisation that he didn't have to wear a mask around me. He could be vulnerable, raw, and without all the fanfare, and I'd still accept him. That was an alien concept to him, I supposed, which made me a little sad, though the feeling was fleeting.

Ash nodded, apparently curious about the unknown, much like me. "Do as you will," he said, and though he tried to conceal it, I heard the plea in his voice.

I would never refuse him.

His gaze followed my hands as I undressed him, barely even blinking when I guided him onto the sofa and settled between his spread thighs. I took my time stretching him open, watching the subtle flutter of his wings, how the membranes tensed and rippled to announce each jolt of pleasure. His eyes were closed, the soft planes of his neck exposed as he arched into the cushion. Sweat trickled over his skin, glistening like dewdrops, and I was helpless against the urge to dip my tongue in to taste. My lips followed the trail to his collarbones, kissing each protruding feather as my fingers rocked in and out of his body.

Slow .

Careful .

I left bite marks on his skin, claiming him as I hadn't before. For the first time, there was no urgency, no rush. Although I typically yearned for his commands, eager to obey every one, this subtle switch in dynamic felt right, too. I wanted to thoroughly worship him, to show him how grateful I was for the chance to see his true form .

Surprisingly, he didn't fuss. He didn't demand for me to go faster, or roll on top and pin me down so he could set the pace. He let me take control, seemingly patient for once just to lie there and be adored.

Admittedly, I was the one concealing restlessness. Under the surface, there was fear stewing in my gut, caused by the feelings I had whenever I looked at him now. ‘Now' meaning ‘all the time,' not just the burst of satisfaction at witnessing his shudder and gasp as I finally replaced my fingers with my cock—though that undeniably made my chest ache, too.

I felt strongest about the ordinary things. The way he subconsciously rubbed his feet together whenever he lay on my sofa, reading. The little, honest smile he did whenever he smelled each flower before arranging them in their buckets. All of it brought on that bloom of overwhelming and unfamiliar chaos in my chest, and it scared me. My fondness for him had been gradual—and somewhat reluctant, in the very beginning—but looking back, it was always going to happen.

It had only taken two weeks for me to figure out that having Ash in my life made everything better, made me better, and how could I ever have expected feelings not to grow from there?

I was such an idiot.

Lowering myself until there wasn't a hairsbreadth of space between our bellies, I braced an arm beside his head and hooked the other under his knee. I pried his leg wider, desperate to reach deeper inside, to fill him completely, but not for release. I needed it to last, to be seated inside his soft, tight heat as long as my body could bear it.

From the way one of Ash's wings folded heavily over my back and his heels dug into my arse, both hindering any retreat, I knew he felt the same.

For what could have been minutes or hours, it was a hard yet steady push and pull that had the breath seizing in my lungs. A sense of peace settled over me, blurring out everything except the clench of Ash's hole around my cock, the pulsing beats of his heart, and his breath fanning over my lips. The coiling pleasure of orgasm was a constant, low thrum down my spine, never rising, just teetering on that edge until I was ready to fall.

Flaming eyes never strayed from mine, and it was so unbearably and uncharacteristically intimate that part of me wanted to turn away, to hide the embarrassing flush that spread over my skin like wildfire, but I couldn't. Something in his gaze enthralled me, demanded that I keep staring into those fiery-orange depths with every stuttering sway of my hips.

Ash's sounds grew urgent, his nails biting more insistently into my shoulders, my arms, my back, encouraging me to give him everything. And I did. He came untouched, with my name rolling off his split tongue in a breathless incantation that had every broken piece of me slotting back into place, and I followed closely behind.

There was near silence as I buried my nose in the crook of his neck, inhaling his sweet, smoky scent. Fingers carded through my hair, a simple caress at first, but soon coaxing me to look up. I surrendered, as I often did, seeing his fond smile as his palm moved to cup my cheek.

I leaned into the gesture, basked in it, craving the grounding presence of Ash's touch. In that moment, as the feelings in my chest buzzed radiantly with life, it occurred to me that I was genuinely happy. It had been so long that I barely recognised the sensation. But it was there, cocooning me, making me feel weightless and fulfilled.

But it was bittersweet.

Ash would inevitably leave me and go back to his fancy palace whenever we were no longer tied. He wasn't meant to be mine, no matter how much I'd surely begun wishing for it. Still, there was a choice. I could ruin the progress we'd made, do what I did best and retreat. Or I could cherish it, make the most of our time left, and thrive in his company as long as I could.

The answer felt obvious to me, and it wasn't the option I'd have probably picked two months ago. I didn't know how I'd cope with letting him go, but for now, it didn't really matter.

I had everything I'd ever wanted, and even if it was to be short-lived, that was better than never having had it at all.

We'd moved to the bed for the second part of Ash's earlier promise. As it turned out, I sucked at taking his cock into my throat—pun only slightly intended—but it didn't matter. The demon was resourceful and had a mountain of kinks he wanted to introduce me to, so I'd found myself tied to the headboard and edged with my Fleshlight until I sobbed instead.

Despite the intensity of it, the sweetness from the living room had lingered. Ash had whispered praise into my ear as he'd stroked me languidly, instructing me on how to roll my hips into the soft, wet sleeve, drawing it out and milking each sensation for all it was worth. He'd plastered himself to my side, a part of us always touching, and he'd kissed me like he would die if he didn't. It had made me feel precious, vulnerable, and overwhelmed, all at once. I didn't want to dwell on it too deeply, didn't want to hope for something impossible, but as we savoured the afterglow, Ash wrapped himself around me—I swore his legs were endless—and the closeness made it hard not to.

"I had a thought." Ash broke the comfortable silence.

"Dangerous."

He ignored my sass. "You haven't yet chosen your showpiece. Why not do your special from the website?"

"Because it's simple?" I said as if it were obvious. "And I'd be laughed out the door."

He lifted his head, setting his chin on his hand as he looked at me. "Everyone will be going to the extreme, so why not do something they won't expect? Take something you're exceptional at, revive it, do it well, and stand out. Simple doesn't have to mean boring."

I studied his face, waiting for the punchline, but apparently he wasn't joking. "Yeah, I'll have to think about that one."

With a huff, he rested his head on my chest again. "Be sure and do, because I have yet to steer you wrong, and it's high time you recognised that."

Feeling cheeky, I replied with a flat, "Yes, Ash." I fully expected retaliation in the form of a petulant scoff or, even better, one of his tantrums.

Instead, there was a pause, one long enough that I'd forgotten what I was waiting on when he said, " Amadeus ."

I frowned. "Hm?"

"My name," he said, tipping his head back to peer up at me again. "It's Amadeus." He shrugged. "I thought it prudent to make you aware."

I'd known Ash was a nickname, but never thought to pry for the real one. I was curious, of course, but it had seemed important for him to keep it secret, so I hadn't crossed that boundary.

Now, though…

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"A name is a powerful thing, and I didn't feel like giving you access to any more of me than was forced. I couldn't trust you not to wield it to your advantage or gloat that a demon's vulnerabilities sat in the palm of your hand. "

"But now you do?"

He nodded. "I had an inkling you weren't dishonest the day you told me you wouldn't ever try to control me, but now, after spending each day with you, I know for certain. You are… a bewildering creature. Truly."

"Thanks? I think."

He laughed, and there was a moment when we just stared at each other. It felt charged, like he'd told me something he'd never intended to, but had decided I was worthy. That I deserved to know every part of him. It made me feel special, as if I mattered on a deeper level than just sex, but I could also have been projecting. I'd realised my crush, and now my brain had decided to analyse every word he said, fixate on his actions over the last eight weeks, and imagine they had some hidden meaning.

I'd ignore it.

I had to.

Ash shifted as if uncomfortable. "Now, do not expect any more confessions or compliments. I am quite spent for the evening."

To offset my wayward emotions, I smirked. Teasing was easy. Teasing was familiar. Teasing was the way to go. "Whatever you say, Amadeus ."

His shoulders stiffened, and his cock twitched against my thigh. "Hm, I like that," he purred, his eyes flooding brighter orange. "Once I am recovered, you must let me hear how it sounds when you're begging me to let you come. "

"Of course you must." I rolled my eyes and laughed, distracting myself from the thought that if my heart beat any louder it might actually combust. "Should I stop calling you Ash, then? Since you brought it up, I assume—"

"There is no need to upend routine," he cut in. "I had thought it would be my preference to hear you address me by my given name, but I've grown rather accustomed to ‘Ash.' Perhaps we'll keep Amadeus for rare and special occasions."

I pretended to contemplate it. "Like when I'm mad at you?"

Ash gasped, affronted. "I am the epitome of perfection, my dear. I see no reason for your ire to ever be directed toward me."

I smiled widely in amusement, leaning in to brush my nose against his. "It's a good thing you're so humble."

With a soft kiss, he pulled back, but only far enough to scan my face—and he did so with alarming accuracy. "You know, I used to believe that nothing could bring me more joy than torturing pitiful souls," he mused, trailing a finger over my cheek. "But I do rather favour seeing you smile."

As far as cutesy pillow talk went, that was pretty low on the scale, but it made my treacherous heart skip, all the same. "It's because of you." I cleared my throat. "What you've done for me, I mean."

"Not entirely, my dear. I do, of course, take some credit, but your success in the last few months is to do with the confidence you've grown."

"And your magic," I added, but he shook his head in denial .

"As I've said before, it has nothing to do with magic. All you needed was a nudge in the right direction, someone to guide you and help you realise your worth, which I was happy to provide." He tapped my nose. "The rest was. All. You ."

‘ Guide you. '

Ash's words had a lightbulb sparking in my head, a memory hitting me like an epiphany—" He will guide you through your struggles, resurrect that which you have lost, and help you on the path to success. "

The final puzzle pieces slotted into place.

I'd already figured out that Ash had landed on my doorstep at exactly the right time with the purpose of assisting me, but the shopkeeper had said there was a lesson to be learned. My struggle wasn't the shop, not directly. It was my lack of hope and confidence—what I had lost —which in turn had shrouded my route to success.

All of Ash's attention and care had lifted me up and made me forget all the people who'd ever told me I wasn't good enough—namely myself. I'd seen concrete proof of the difference those small changes had made, but there was one crucial part missing...

I still had to believe it all myself, right?

I could've laughed at how simple it was. Of course the key was going to be one of those corny fairy-tale finales, where love conquered all and broke the curse, but in this case, it was self -love. I had to trust that I could do this on my own. Not because Ash said so, but because I believed it possible .

And honestly? I think I did.

Or, at least, I could now truly see myself getting there.

I'd made it this far through sheer stubbornness and force of will. I'd dug my heels in against whatever was thrown at me and that had to mean part of me—not just the spiteful part—always believed I had as much chance as anyone. That giving up wasn't for me because I knew it would get better because I was capable of making it happen.

I'd just needed someone—a mythical being from another realm—to remind me.

I threaded my fingers through Ash's hair and dragged him in for a kiss, moaning as his tongue grazed mine. It was filthy and deep, and when we eventually parted, his eyelashes fluttered dazedly.

"What was that for?"

I shrugged. "Just realised something important."

"Pray tell."

"I'm not a failure," I said with conviction, my chest swelling with pride. It felt good to say out loud, like the restraints I'd worn for years finally snapped, freeing me. "I am good enough, and I… actually believe I can do this."

Ash stared as if seeing me for the first time, assessing, before a slow grin curved his lips. Without warning, he rolled on top of me, wildfire in his eyes. "About damned time. I was beginning to wonder if I'd been tied to a hopeless cause."

I laughed softly, curling my hands over his hips as he straddled me. "Sorry to disappoint," I said, and there was that smile lighting up his face again. Not a smirk, but something more genuine that had me convinced I'd never be able to ignore my feelings.

And I didn't want to.

"I've told you before…" he said, bending down until our mouths were barely a few inches apart. "You could never disappoint me, my darling."