Epilogue

EPILOGUE

ZELDA

Revenge wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Yeah, Walker finally got what he had coming. When the police arrived, they arrested him as part of the conspiracy. Amiron Yan was livid, promising to sue everyone involved, including the police, for their slow arrival. He had enough money and influence to ensure that Walker would get the maximum punishment for his involvement.

Zelda sent Walker's confession to the museum board, her former boss, and ex-friends.

Crickets.

Not that Zelda was expecting her old boss to crawl back, begging for forgiveness and offering her old job back. She was a realist. She did expect some sort of response from her friend group, a "Damn, I never liked that guy" or something. Anything. No one called with apologies or sent flowers, or whatever a person did when they realized they were wrong.

And Malgraxon? Ghosted. He ate her out in the elevator, cooked her a meal, and vanished. She knew they weren't friends. She knew the bargain was the extent of their relationship. Strictly a business arrangement. She knew that, yet it still hurt.

Demons.

In case she hadn't got the message that revenge might be a dish best served cold, it didn't nourish the soul, her cat was missing. Building maintenance let themselves into her apartment to fix a water leak, and Fishtopher escaped. Of course, this happened to be a rain day. Why not?

It didn't rain on Mars — not enough moisture in the atmosphere — but under the domes, an extensive irrigation system allowed a light misting rain to keep down the dust and water the greenery. All on a schedule, of course, but Fishtopher didn't check his social calendar before bolting out the door. Or maybe he did, cats being contrary creatures and all.

So, in summation, Zelda still had a crummy apartment, still worked at a pawnshop, had no friends, got ghosted by a demon, her cat escaped, and now she was wandering out in the rain feeling miserable for herself. She was having a full-on pity party.

"Fish. Fish! Come on out," she called, walking slowly. The alley behind her building — technically the space between the building and the tunnel wall — had lots of good places for a cat to hide, but Fishtopher was a fundamentally lazy creature. He excelled at napping and snacking. She hoped his spirit of adventure fizzled quick and he was hanging out nearby, waiting for rescue.

No joy. Zelda checked boxes, behind crates, peeked into the dumpster, and every dry place a chunky cat could squeeze himself into, but not Fishtopher.

It was too dark. The tunnel wall, while manmade, was uneven. There were too many shadows, and the security light at the building's back barely illuminated the back door. Technically, the tunnel had a lighting system bright enough to replicate sunlight, but it was programmed for a day-night cycle. Currently, it was night. Only a few dim bulbs twinkled overhead, mimicking starlight.

She needed a flashlight. If her cat had scrambled up the rock wall to hide in a nook or cranny, she'd never find him in the dark.

"Come on, Fishtopher, it's movie night. You can have your own bowl of popcorn," she said, willing to bribe her cat with previously off-limits people snacks. Her original plans for the evening, since it was the Halloween season, had been to curl up on the couch and watch a classic monster movie or two.

"What are you doing in the garbage?"

Zelda nearly jumped out of her skin. Malgraxon emerged from the side of the building, striding out of the mist like he was a Victorian inspector on the prowl for a ne'er-do-well. He wore a heavy tweed greatcoat, the kind with the little cape that fell over the arms to the elbows. Another costume piece stolen from a theater department?

Heaven help her, she was glad to see him. She should be wary. Geneva warned her that once a Daimoni got its claws in, they didn't let go, and here he was, materializing in her moment of crisis.

He tilted his head, studying her. "You are upset. I do not like it."

"My cat ran away," she said, fully intending to be a calm, rational adult about the situation, but her voice wobbled.

Mal nodded. "We will locate him."

Gratitude swept over her, and it was too much. All of it. Her chest felt too tight and too big, like she was being squeezed from the outside while pressure built inside. The frustration at barely eking by, the disappointment that getting revenge on Walker didn't magically restore her former life, and the general misery of being in the rain. Malgraxon would demand something ridiculously expensive, her soul or firstborn child, and she'd pay. She loved that chunky cat, and she couldn't stand the thought of him frightened in the rain.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, which was mortifying.

Mal took off his coat and settled it over her shoulders. He angled his umbrella to cover them both.

"Thanks," she muttered. The coat was warm from his body heat and had a pleasing weight. It felt like a hug, which threatened more tears.

"Do not thank me."

"How much is your help gonna cost?" She wiped at her eyes, struggling to control the emotions playing havoc in her chest.

"This is a gray area," he answered, which was no answer at all. "Locate your feline via his collar."

"That was the first thing I tried," Zelda said with a ragged sigh. Fishtopher wore a collar with a tracker, as required by law, but it was the indoor model. She didn't have the budget for the all-weather, waterproof model. Fish was a house cat. He wasn't supposed to be out in the weather. "It doesn't work in the rain. He was in this general area before the link died."

"Then I will search." He scanned the dark alley, as if he could see into the shadows. Maybe he could.

"Please don't jerk me around," she said. "I know your help isn't free. What's the price?"

He rubbed his chin, considering her long enough that Zelda grew nervous. Another kiss? That kind of kiss? Look, she enjoyed herself, but she wasn't doing that in an alley. In the pathetic Martian rain.

"A token of your favor," he said at length.

"A token," she repeated. That sounded horribly old-fashioned.

He waved his free hand dismissively. "Typically a ribbon, a handkerchief, ring, or a lock of hair. Some small thing."

Yeah, horribly old-fashioned, but it fit the gas lamp aesthetic he had going on.

"I don't trust you," she said.

"That is unfortunate." He tilted his head back, as if searching the rock wall above. "Do you think your feline is warm and comfortable? Or is he cold and frightened?"

Oh, that was low. Mal knew exactly what to say to get what he wanted.

"Fine, but not hair," she said. She didn't wear jewelry or have the other items he mentioned. Hair was far too personal. Plus, it just seemed like a bad idea giving a DNA sample to the demon.

She fiddled with the collar of her shirt, thinking. Something small. Something she had on her right now. Mal watched intensely and she knew. She didn't like the idea of tearing off a button from her shirt but fine. She never buttoned the collar, anyway.

"I can give you a button," she said.

A smile flashed across his face, mostly hidden in the shadows and completely disturbing.

"A piece of your garment, how intimate," he said, savoring each word. "We have an accord."

Handing her the umbrella, their hands touched. Zelda felt a familiar tingle.

Mal pointed down the alley to the next building. "This way."

Apparently, demons could see in the dark. He quickly examined the usual detritus behind the building and turned his attention to the tunnel wall. His head tilted to the side, listening, then he sprang into action, climbing and nearly floating up the rocky surface. High up, higher than Zelda could have ever hoped to search herself, he picked up a very upset Fishtopher.

The cat yowled, scrambling over his shoulders to escape, then changed his mind and dug his claws in. Mal held the cat against his chest as he descended. Once his feet were on solid ground again, he handed Fishtopher over to her.

Hugging her cat tight, all the tears she barely managed to control burst free. The day had been too much. Hell, the last year had been too much. The proverbial rug had been yanked from underneath her and the only constant had been this cat.

"Don't you ever do that again," she sobbed, face buried against Fishtopher's damp fur. He purred in response, the sound soothing her soul.

Everything would be okay. She had her cat. She'd be fine.

"Your token," Mal said, interrupting her thoughts.

"Oh, um, my hands are a bit full." The cat had sunk his claws into her shirt and refused to let go. "Could you hold the umbrella and I'll give you a button?"

Mal stretched a hand towards her, not flesh and blood, but black smoke. It felt solid enough as Mal swiped a thumb across her cheek. Contact wasn't skin-on-skin, or even smoke-on-skin. The sensation was of puckering and plucking, like a hundred tiny suction cups.

He leaned in, like he might kiss her. A breath away from her lips, he paused and watched her reaction.

Zelda tilted her face upward, lips parted in anticipation.

He placed a soft and lingering kiss on her cheek.

"You token," he repeated, sounding satisfied as he stepped back.

"Tears?" She touched her face with the hand holding the umbrella, which tilted dramatically and scattered raindrops.

"Tears of joy," he said. "As irresistible as the rest of you."

Not knowing how to respond, she buried her face in the cat's damp fur. Was she blushing? Hush. You'd blush, too.

Mal walked her back to her building. Once she reached a puddle of light, she turned to thank him for his help, but he had already vanished back into the mist.

She smiled and said, "We're gonna be fine."

Maybe life wasn't what she had envisioned, but everything would work out. She had her cat, a job, a pushy but well-meaning boss, and a demon who found her irresistible.

What was next? Was this thing with her demon turning into something serious? She had no idea but couldn't wait to find out.

MALGRAXON

She was meant to be temporary. A means to an end. It wasn't meant to be complicated . He loathed complications. He cooked for her, for fuck's sake.

Amiron Yan now owed him a favor. He could feel that obligation binding them together, and he would keep it in place as long as possible. Having the richest person on Mars bound to him was no small thing, after all, yet Malgraxon was not satisfied.

He wanted more.

Her taste lingered on his lips, and he yearned for another taste.

Definitely a complication.

He had only meant to observe her building. It was a good idea to monitor contacts and she could be useful in the future. But she had been upset, struggling not to cry in the rain, and he could not stand it.

That would be the end of it, he vowed, yet his wandering always returned him to her building. She was vibrant, more vivid and intriguing than anyone he had encountered in a century. No matter where he went on this small planet, she drew him back.

Now he waited in her apartment for her return.

Mal stroked the feline's head, causing the creature to purr. Paws kneaded his lap, claws pricking through the fabric of his trousers.

"This is vicuna wool, you heathen," he said, continuing to pet the cat who did not care a jot.

But Mal cared, and that was the problem. Somehow, the human female had wormed her way past his barriers. He cared about her fragile emotions when that lout Walker insulted her. He cared about her approval when she asked him not to drop the same lout off the top of a very tall building. He wanted nothing more than to turn her tears of sorrow into tears of joy. He wanted her to know that she was desirable and worship her. Honestly, it was no bother at all worshiping her luscious form.

Caring. Bah.

He rubbed his chest at the unfamiliar sensation. His kind did not form attachments to their prey, and humans were most definitely prey. Imagine the scandal if he formed a mate bond with a human.

For a moment, he gave himself the luxury of imagining just that. The first thing he'd do is install his mate in proper quarters, one with an adequate security system. Her current dwelling was a hovel, and the security system a joke. It took no effort at all to bypass, and she had not updated her passwords. Any novice could break in.

Proper quarters with a challenging security system. It was decided. Then he'd teach her how to break the most advanced security systems. Zelda seemed the sort to enjoy a spot of breaking and entering, no matter how she claimed she was a law-abiding citizen.

Law-abiding citizens did not make deals with his kind.

Taking a human mate wasn't strictly forbidden. Other Daimoni would not be pleased at his choice, but would their displeasure be limited to empty words, or would there be consequences? Further complications?

Mal was reluctant to jeopardize his soulstone. For so long, he had hoarded his remaining lives. He was a selfish male.

Something had changed, and he did not approve.

Not long ago, the idea of sharing his days with anyone seemed abhorrent. Cutting his lifespan short for what? Companionship? Sex? He had never experienced any great difficulty obtaining either of those, but if it was with Zelda, who burned as bright as a falling star… Yes, that was different.

It was strange and wonderful and more than a little frightening.

In other words, perfect.

The door chirped, and the ancient lock turned.

"What are you doing here?" Zelda stood in the doorway, key in hand, her luscious mouth rounded with surprise.

By all the stars in the sky, she was a delight. An approving growl rumbled in his throat.

"I have a proposition for you," he said.