NINE

Azeroth

We stay in all day except when Elodie insists on walking to the store down the street and buying the ingredients to make us dinner from scratch. She tells me it's the least she can do given I'm hosting, and I ordered in breakfast and lunch. Seeing as there's no food in my apartment, it's her only option.

I don't mind. I like the store. I go there so infrequently it has the novelty of a zoo or an exhibit. In all the years I've been watching and now living with humans, they never cease to amaze me with all the ingenious little inventions they come up with.

Chocolate orange for example. Whoever would have looked at those tiny brown beans and decided to eat one, taste how bitter and nasty they are, and then try roasting it, grinding it and mixing it with whatever they mix it to get milk chocolate and then thinking, I know: I'll add orange flavor and mold it into the shape of a tiny orange with segments you can pull apart.

I buy twenty-three. They come in small square boxes with a clear film so you can see the chocolate inside. It's even got segments like a real orange.

I load our basket with so many things that I work a little magic into my motions to keep everything inside it. Elodie returns from the freezer aisle with sheets of frozen pastry and stares at it. "What is all that stuff?"

I shrug. "Snacks."

She doesn't say anything, her eyes going between the various items in the basket. I can tell she wants to ask if it's snacks for a year or a month. Demons don't process calories like humans do, so I can eat whatever I want. It doesn't fuel me the way food does for humans. I still love it. Eating is one of the only vices I never seem to get sick of. Tried most of the others out. Got bored.

When we get back to my apartment, instead of doing the sensible thing and leaving her alone to concentrate on work, I linger in the kitchen and watch. There's an innocent charm in the way she looks when she ties her hair up, the strands at the back drifting loose to tickle at her neck. She blows one out of her eyes as she checks something on her phone. When she looks up, she gives me a strange look.

"You can go relax can't you? I mean it's not a condition of the summoning that you have to stand right here?"

"I am relaxed." To demonstrate, I lean back against the back of the stool and put my feet up.

She immediately scolds, "You can't put your feet on the counter when I'm cooking."

I remove them. I stay at the counter, though, watching in fascination. Eventually, when she's finished rattling around in my drawers she gives a little huff. "Where's your grater?"

"My what now?"

She blinks. "You have a grater. Don't you?"

"I might."

Elodie brushes her fringe out of her eyes with the back of her hand. "Do you ever cook?"

"Nope. Why would I? I don't need to eat."

Her mouth drops open. "You don't need to—so I'm wasting my time?"

"I didn't say that. I like to eat. That's why I do it. But eating and cooking are different things."

This earns me a smile and after some searching, we find the grater and she grates sheep's cheese over the finished pastries, then puts them in the oven.

Turns out all the searching was worth it, too. After my tenth pastry, I lick my fingers. "You're a very good cook. I'm surprised you bothered getting into finance. You could have been a chef."

She snorts. "Hardly." But she looks pleased.

A buzzing noise from the counter makes us both look to where her phone is lit up with a picture of a guy with a mustache and a smug expression on his face. The caller ID says Dustin.

"Is that him?"

She jumps. "Huh?"

"Is that your ex?"

"Y-yeah." She's still staring at the phone.

It continues to buzz. I step closer. "Don't answer him."

"But why is he calling?"

"It doesn't matter. Not your problem anymore, is he?"

She ignores me. She even reaches for the damn thing.

Quickly, I reach around her and snatch it from the counter, swiping up and lifting it to my ear. Then I let my voice drop low and let out a long, satisfied groan. "Mmm. Yes. Who is this?"

Silence on the other end.

Elodie stares up at me, mouth open, a horrified expression on her face.

Eventually, jerk features coughs up an answer. "Dustin. Who is this?"

"Dustin? Dustin? Ohhhhh, Dustin." I pause again, sucking in my breath. Deliberately, I let it out in a deep sigh, as if I'm getting the best blow job of my life. "Mmm. I'm sorry, Dusty. Elodie's a little busy right now. Be sure not to call back later."

I hang up the phone before he can sputter another response, grinning to myself.

Elodie's horrified expression thaws into laughter as I place the phone on her open palm. "I can't believe you just did that!"

I give her an innocent look I'm sure not even she is falling for. "That's what you summoned me for, right?""Yeah. I guess it is." She looks like she wants to say more, but before she can, she stifles a huge yawn. Probably a lot to do with how little sleep she had last night. I shoo her off to bed without stopping to think too hard about how much I liked sticking it to that asswipe human of hers.

Once she's tucked in and slumbering, I look around my apartment. Nothing looks vastly different, but it feels different today. It feels lived in. Why doesn't it normally feel lived in when it's just me? I suppose the cooking has a lot to do with it.

The savory cheesy smell of the pastries emanates through the open kitchen living area with a warm, soft, oozing sort of comfort. I like it. Perhaps I should cook. Or hire a cook so my house always smells like this.

I'm surprised to find I've liked having Elodie around today, too. It's not how I expected to feel about being summoned. In fact, this feels so different from what I was expecting it almost seems like I've gotten one up on Mordicus without meaning to.

That puts an even bigger smile on my face.

Then I remember what will happen if I don't keep my head in the game.

I stuff the dirty things in the dishwasher and inspect it for a long time, trying to work out how to switch it on. In the end, I shrug and leave it for my cleaner in the morning. Then I spend a few hours browsing the internet, considering how I make this fake dating thing feel so satisfying she doesn't need anything else. There's one way to be certain I give her what she really wants. Some might call it cheating. I call it research.

It's also dinner, but pot-ay-to, pot-ah-to.

When I'm certain she's asleep, I creep to the door of the guest room and open it carefully.

My eyes adjust instantly to the dark and I see her arranged a little more elegantly in bed than she was last night. Her right hand is tucked up under the pillow and her hair is half over her face. I want to brush it back, but I'm worried I'll wake her.

If I haven't broken every HR code ever written, what I'm about to do will dot that extra i. Rules? Ha! What rules?

Sneaking forward, I come to the very edge of the bed. Her soft breaths are the only sound punctuating the silence. Reaching out, I hold my hand right over her face, coaxing her thoughts from her, harvesting them while her guard is down.

Dreamers are the easiest to pluck. Dreams and desires get intermingled and they sit so close to the surface all I have to do is get near her. So much easier than when people are awake.

Immediately, a tingle runs through my fingertips and up my arm. I'm buzzing with energy. Then the images begin.

I suck in a breath as I'm thrown headfirst into a scene. It's been a long time since I found a sleeper this powerful. It's such a rush it takes me a second to process where I am.

We're back in Elodie's apartment. In her dream, anyway. It's a lot cleaner in her dream than in real life.

One second, we're at the door, the next I'm backing her into her bedroom and stripping her clothing off, item by item.

I'm used to the way dreams skip forward and backward in time. Not following the logical pattern of waking life. I still stumble when the force of her desire washes through me and my cock springs to life.

Holy hell.

I dip my head to taste the skin of her neck as I fling her top somewhere behind us. Cinnamon, burnt sugar, and a hit of something more powerful than any alcohol nearly bowls me over.

Next second, we're tumbling onto the bed. I'm tucked between those thighs praying for mercy. Elodie wraps her legs around me and locks her ankles. She drags her nails up my shoulders around the hard ridges of the bony protrusions there and I'm fucking lost in it for a minute.

"You want this, huh?" I rock my hips, grinding my swollen cock against her. She still has on tight leather-look leggings that hug her curves and do nothing to stop my brain leaking slowly from the tip of my cock.

I have clothes on, too. At least I did.

Next second, we're both fully naked. I groan as her heat almost engulfs me. My cock slides through folds wet enough to drown a human man.

Fucking fuck.

I need to get a grip here.

I didn't come here to rail her. I came here to find out what she wants most, so I can give it to her. Only, those things seem to be one and the same. I'm quickly getting my wires crossed trying to figure out where the line is between satisfying her and taking advantage.

Finally exerting some self-control, I rein things in a little. We're back to semi-clothed. At least that puts a small barrier between my cock and the closest to heaven it's ever going to get.

I groan when the memory causes a flicker in the magic and for one more sweet second I'm nestled all wet and warm right at her naked pussy.

She wants it alright.

Or is that me?

Dream Elodie pouts up at me. "Azeroth, please."

I put our clothes back on, but it's too hard to resist grinding just a little.

She moans. "Please."

"Oh, I know you want it, sweet thing. What else do you want? Show me all the things, beautiful."

Another flash, and we're in the same room. This time she's on her hands and knees and my cock is in my hand. I'm a breath away from sliding into her.

I tighten my hand on her hip and suck in a breath.

This is not going the way a dream harvest normally goes. That's an understatement. I'm used to being in control.

"No, gorgeous, not in the bedroom. Show me what you want from a boyfriend. Show me how to please you."

Those were the wrong words.

Immediately, we're in a dark corridor of a busy club. The music is thumping and the sounds of dancers a few feet away mingle with the bass and the awareness of so many bodies so close together. They're only dream people or the lust and greed would give me a burst of energy. That's no bad thing, though. Right now, it's all I can do to stay on my feet. I've got Elodie pinned up against the wall and her mouth is locked on mine. Her leg is hooked around my hips while my finger is deep inside her wet pussy.

Oh, fuck.

Abort. I need to get out. There's nothing useful for me here. Her lust is too strong.

Only, she writhes against my hand and begs me to make her come. It's only a dream.

She won't remember it in the morning. Or if she does, she won't realize for me it's real.

Not sure why I'm feeling guilty as I curl my finger until she moans. Her grip on my collar tightens and her breath hitches.

How can I leave her like this?

"That's right, beautiful," I murmur next to her ear. "I'm going to satisfy that need now. We'll talk about the others in the morning."

"Promise?" Is she lucid? Does she remember the other scenes I left unfulfilled? Impossible.

"Yes, that's right," I croon. "You're going to get everything you want. Starting with a juicy orgasm right here on my fingers."

I add a second finger and pump her faster. I have to smother her cry with my left hand when I find her clit with my thumb. Not that any of the people dancing in the club are real but right now, she thinks they are. It might kill her orgasm if someone walks in on us. I nudge her mind with a little magic just to make sure.

Her little body quivers around my fingers.

So damn sweet.

God, the power of her need makes my head spin. I'm thrumming with energy and I haven't even given her the dream of what she wants.

I work her right up until the edge. When she's whimpering, full lips parted and thick brows furrowed, I lean in and whisper against her ear, "Come for me, sweet thing."

I send a spark of magic all the way through her center.

Her back arches. She grabs my neck.

Her pussy flutters around my fingers and she does exactly as she's told.

She's beautiful coming all over my hand. She leaves a slick mess when she's done.

I withdraw my fingers and bring them to my mouth. I can't resist a little taste. Instant sweetness is followed by a rich musk that makes my head spin. Oh, dangerous indeed.

I stumble from the dream and out of the guest room where Elodie lays sleeping.

Yes, I lick my fingers one more time when I collapse onto my bed with a throbbing cock. Am I crazy, or do they still taste like her, even though I never really touched her?