Chapter 34

34

T hey leave the cabin in the middle of the night, piling half the research into the ratty little sedan and half into Chloe's car.

Delina brews enough espresso shots for them to stay awake all night, and shoves the photo book into the trunk of the car, even though they're short on space.

She puts the dead bug in her pocket, still in the plastic pill container, breathing past the sensation.

If that demon is waiting for them on the other side of the barrier, she wants to be prepared.

Chance the cat jumps into Gurlien's lap in the car, curling up like it's the couch, so Chloe runs back in and grabs the remaining cat food before they're all off, the tires crunching through the snow.

Delina twists to watch the cabin disappear between the trees, her heart caught in her throat.

"You'll be able to go back," Maison says, even without looking at her as he drives away.

Delina swallows that down, but doesn't look away until even the gravel driveway is away from her view.

"This is gonna be bright," Maison mutters, cranking down his window, staring at the drone sitting idle on one stone.

Delina twists back in her chair, just in time to see him clench his fist and yank, before the drone explodes into a million sparks.

She blinks at it, and in a moment they're past.

"They'll know that was one of us," she says dumbly.

"And now they'll have no footage," Maison says, succinct. "I'm fine with that."

Halfway down the street to the main highway, Maison leans across her and pulls out her burner cell phone from the glove compartment, not breaking his eye contact with the road.

"Wanna text your dad?" he asks, and Delina perks up. "We're leaving here, you can throw the phone out the window afterwards, they won't know where we're going."

"He's gonna be asleep," Delina warns, but cradles the phone anyways. "He's gotta be worried out of his mind."

She clicks on her phone as they drive through the dark, and the silence gets filled with beeps.

DAD (10:21 AM): Maison stopped by.

DAD (10:39 AM): I told him you were helping a friend, tried to get him to stay a few hours, he wouldn't. Stressed out of his mind, he will definitely track you down. Stay safe.

Then, a few days later:

DAD (3:20 PM): Had some of your mother's old friends stop by. Told me you were missing. I acted surprised and worried. They're gonna catch on.

DAD (3:22 PM): Stay safe, love you.

A few days later:

DAD (8:00 PM): They just told me Maison died. Are you okay?

"Oh wow," Delina murmurs, scrolling through the filtered texts, and Maison side eyes her from the driver's seat. "They told my dad you died."

Maison frowns, then sighs. "Makes sense, it's what I'd do in their situation." Another side eye. "Are you gonna tell him I'm alive? We have to believe they're monitoring his phone now."

Delina stares down at her phone. "My dad really did like you."

"It was nice having a normal dad around," Maison says, a bit sad. "I think I talked to him about more mundane things than anyone else."

It's true, she knew that Maison would occasionally go and get advice from her dad, but knowing what she knows now just makes it a bit worse.

That his mother was locked up, his other parent generally unavailable, and he was completely cut off from any aspect of community he's ever known.

DAD (7:22 PM): Hope you are well. They've increased their spies around my house. Brought a woman with a half-shaved head around, she was not all there, her eyes were weird. Stay safe.

Then, one day ago.

DAD (3:01 PM): they told me you're killing people now. I don't know what's going on, but please be safe.

"Great, they told him I killed Korhonen," Delina says, the familiar bitterness rising up at the mere mention.

"He'll still love you," Maison murmurs.

DELINA (11:45 PM): Hey Dad, I'm doing well, the cabin is beautiful and the woods are glorious. Mom really left some surprises for me, I'll visit soon.

Of course, the text sends, and doesn't immediately click over to read, which means he's fast asleep.

Delina cradles it for a few minutes longer, then rolls down the window and chucks it into a particularly gnarly blackberry bramble and watches as that, too, disappears through the mist.

In the silence, Maison reaches over and grabs her hand.

They pull up to another property of her mother's around 4:30 AM, an apartment in a row of other, unremarkable apartments in an otherwise unremarkable mid-sized city.

Chloe gets through the lock on the door with barely any thought, and Maison disables the single magic snare left behind with very little trouble.

The apartment is way more utilitarian than the cabin, no personality to be found, like Delina's mother never bothered to break down the display furniture that came when she purchased it. No books in the bookshelves, no food in the cabinets, no dead bugs underneath the sinks.

There's two bedrooms, a dusty looking couch, and one of those massive bean bags that were in fashion a few years ago. Without even saying anything, Chloe flops over onto the bean bag, and Chance the cat curls up with her, both of them falling asleep so fast Delina is briefly, briefly jealous.

"Yeah, the cat meowed the entire drive," Gurlien mutters, before turning on his heel to the smaller of the bedrooms.

Delina's eyes have gone crunchy somewhere after hour two of driving, and Maison's face is pale with exhaustion.

Inside the room, magic blazes up, and Delina's breath catches in her throat, before she relaxes.

Nothing happens, the magic licking against her feet, and Maison gives her a sharp glance, before staring down at her feet.

"That's not a danger spell, it's a notification," he says, narrowing his eyes before rubbing them. "It'd be to let your mom know someone was here."

"Huh," Delina says, peering down at it. "So who does the notification go to now that she's…dead?"

"Nobody," Maison says with a sigh, and exhaustion eats at him, she can feel it. "It's…it's a useless spell now. Just alive enough to show up on the carpet."

The carpet itself is the beige type found in most rental properties, completely unremarkable.

"The bed has an anti-dust spell," Maison mumbles.

"Good," Delina says, then flops over on the bed, holding her hand out to him to join her.

They hadn't spoken much on the drive, both too full of jangly nerves to carry on too much of a conversation, but Delina can read the apprehension on his face as clearly as if he had spoken it.

"Unless you want to crash on the couch or split a room with Gurlien," Delina says, which breaks him out of it enough that he rolls his eyes, shucking off his flannel shirt and kicking off his shoes.

Still tentative, he crawls under the comforter with her, and…

…and they hadn't slept in the same bed since the night she brought him back from the dead.

Immediately, she curls up against him, and he throws his arm over her, tugging her in close.

Like nothing had ever happened.

He breathes in, deep, a tremor somewhere in there.

"Is this okay?" Delina asks, after a long moment of silence, but him wide aware against her. "It's been…a bit of a day."

"Yeah," Maison says, and his voice is a little rough. "Yeah, it has been." As if to punctuate his words, he pulls her in tighter.

They had agreed to sleep in, to leave mid-afternoon and travel mostly at night, but the strangeness still pulls at Delina.

Of sleeping in yet another strange bed in another strange place. Of the noises and creaking in the apartment, of the still softly glowing magic.

"When it's safe, I want to go back to the condo in Prescott," Delina starts, speaking into the quiet of the room. "Not permanently, just to find some of our things."

"Definitely not permanently," Maison mumbles against her hair. "But. Yes."

"Get your art supplies, get my things, then…"

"Then we'll figure out which of your properties we should visit next," Maison continues softly. "Tour around in them, find the best views."

"Yeah," Delina says, and sleep tugs against her, finally, pulling her breathing deeper, weighing at her eyelids. "We'll figure it out."

She wakes before everyone else, and a quick scan shows the cat still curled with Chloe on the bean bag, Gurlien still fast asleep on the extra bed, and Maison still breathing deeply against her.

It's close to perfect.

So she just breathes out, blinking into the room.

Instead of the floral curtains, there are blank slats, sending long shadows on the white walls in the midafternoon sunshine. They're still northern, they're still in the United States, but a brief glimpse of blue peeks through the window.

"Delly?" Maison mumbles, still holding her close, voice raspy with sleep.

"Yeah, I'm here," Delina whispers back, turning in his arms until she faces him.

He gazes at her from underneath his lashes, and they're so close she can see the faintest of freckles across his nose.

He doesn't say anything, just watches her in the shadows of the blinds.

The condo in Prescott had blinds like this, and for a few moments, she could swear they were back there.

"I didn't think I would ever wake up like this again," he whispers, voice so low.

Delina didn't think so either.

"I know we'll have to get in the car and drive more today, but…" he tightens his arm around the middle of her back, an almost unconscious motion. "I don't want to leave this."

It's nice, sleepy words, spoken out of some quiet want for contentment, and she gets it. She gets it so strongly that every part of her is almost to tears with the idea of having to leave the bed.

His eyes flicker down to her lips, then back up to her, serious. "May I kiss you?"

She blinks at him.

"Look, I kissed you before you were ready, and—"

She presses herself up to him, kissing him, opening her mouth to him, and he responds with a startled sound, his hand sweeping to her lower back, under her shirt and to the too untouched skin beneath.

A crack sparkles from his fingertips to her skin, and he pulls away.

"That's new," Delina breathes, and he smiles at her, heartbreaking and beautiful, before he kisses her again, stronger this time, biting on her lower lip.

It sends a trill down her skin, and she shivers, even though the air inside the apartment is more warm than not, so she pulls up at the hem of his shirt until he leans back long enough to pull it over his head.

He grips her chin, keeping her in place, and her skin tightens once more as she splays her hand over his abs.

He's still wearing his jeans—he slept in them like an exhausted moron—and she lets her hand go to the button to the fly, raising an eyebrow at him.

He raises his right back, before grinning.

Before she has any real idea of what's going on, he flips her over, until he's on top of her, legs bracing hers.

She squeaks in surprise, before he grips her chin again and presses a bruising kiss to her mouth, insistent.

"We're going to have to be quiet," he whispers, lips brushing against hers.

Inhaling, she kisses back. He's usually not this strong, preferring her to take the lead, preferring her to make all the large actions. Making sure she's in control.

But not this, and it sends another shiver down her back.

Another raised eyebrow at her and his eyes glint, ever so briefly, red.

"What are you doing?" She breathes, and she's not sure she's ever seen him quite like this. "Your eyes…"

He doesn't answer, kissing her again, before pulling back enough to help her pull off her sleep shirt and pressing his lips against her collarbone.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, a soft caress of words, his mouth moving against her skin, his hands sweeping downwards to the hem of her shorts.

It's all of the sudden so much, and her breath catches in her throat with the sudden need.

Kicking off her shorts, she grabs his hair, twisting her hands in his soft locks until he breathes out, halfway between a sign and a moan, arching the column of his neck.

He's still wearing far more clothing than she is, and she pushes his jeans down until she can grab his cock, hard and heavy in her hands.

He makes a choked off sound in the back of his throat, and she raises her eyebrow at him.

"I thought you said we have to be quiet," she whispers, and he grins at her, wide, a spark in his eyes, and before she even knows what's happening, his hand slides between her thighs.

It's been too long, and she has to muffle her own noise of need as he presses the palm on his hand against her clit.

He's always known how to make her scream, and now she can't.

"I've wanted to do this every day," he whispers, as she squirms in his touch. "Wanted to undress you, to see you beneath me again."

"Not fair," Delina pants out, and he's holding her down, his legs pressed against hers, and she's never felt so wonderfully trapped as he lazily circles a finger over her opening.

He presses another kiss against her collarbone, then slips his finger inside her, and she jolts against him.

"Wanted to see you fall apart," he murmurs, curving his finger just right, until heat starts to pool inside of her. "Wanted just you, just like this."

A small remote part of her finds it somewhat unlikely, with all the change and drama and strife in the last few months, but she shrugs that off, arching her neck up at his touch.

It's almost too much, and the moment she thinks she's about to break, he shifts, pulling away, and a gasp wrenches out of her throat at the sudden lack.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, his hand spreading over her chest, whisper gentle, and she shudders at the almost touch. "I can't believe…"

Before he can finish that sentence, she kisses him again, as if she can compel him to do more with just her lips. As if the last month between them just made it stronger, made her able to control more.

It almost derails her thought, before he presses her back against the mattress with one strong motion, forcing her legs apart.

Her breath hitches, and he pauses, perilously close to her, his eyes flashing red for a split second. A split-second check in, like he could tell something that way, like he's been checking in on her the entire time and just now she's able to see it.

"Fuck me," she whispers to him, and his brows flash up, before he grins and thrusts into her.

This time she does gasp, loud, before he covers her mouth with his hand, and the gasp dissolves into a giggle.

"You still need to be quiet," he whispers back, laughter at the edge of his voice as he, almost lazily, fucks her. There's a smile hidden in his eyes, the dimple on his chin, and she resists the urge to pull his hair again, to control the rhythm.

"You need to not surprise me then," she whispers back, breathless, heat pooling behind her stomach. "I was fine before you surprised me."

He grins at her, wide, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, and she knows, she just knows, that he's absolutely going to make her break.

But not if she makes him break first.

She twists her hands up and into his hair again, pulling sharply, and he moans, just slightly, barely audible, still thrusting into her.

So she rakes her fingernails against his scalp, sending goosebumps down his arms.

"Delly," he warns, and she grins back.

This isn't how it usually is for them.

Usually, sex is…comfortable. Great in its comfort, great in how predictable it is, great in how they could always improve each other's mood through it. Great in how much she can count on it, can know that it'll always be the same.

This…there's some spark in there, something she doesn't quite understand. Some strange thrill of danger, beyond the worry of being overheard. A newness, something a bit more raw between them.

Even their first time together hadn't been this vulnerable.

He must see something in her face, for he stills, and for a split second his eyes gleam red at her. "Everything okay?" he whispers, his hand falling to the small curve of her hip, to the tender skin there.

Even the check in has a different weight.

She nods, words vanishing from her mind, and his next thrust pulls another small gasp out of her.

He hmms, his voice low against her, and another thrill goes down her back. Another small sense of danger, of risk.

"Are you getting into your head?" he murmurs into her ear, because of course he knows how to recognize that.

Even with the strangeness, he still knows her.

She nods again, ever so slightly. "Don't stop." Her voice is breathy despite herself, and her blood thrums with the need of his touch.

"Of course not," he murmurs, hand smoothing over her skin, before he grins, a hint of mischievousness in his gaze. "You could always compel me if you needed."

"Oh fuck off," she blurts out, too loud, and he laughs, something genuine and real in the sound, before his hands come up and grip her wrists, holding her in place.

It's another spark of danger, this one delicious.

Cause she knows him now. Knows what he's capable of, knows the depth of his devotion in her. Knows what it means for a Half Demon to hold her down like this, how much power is in his hands.

He thrusts again, carrying all thoughts away from her, and she arches her back.

"Because all you have to do," he says, still low and close, "is merely ask and I will do whatever you want."

And she knows that now, too.