Page 57 of Demon's Bride

“You could have warned me!”

His face falls. “You’re right, I should have thought of that. I forget sometimes that witches don’t commonly practice portal magick. If you were in any danger here, I would never have left you.”

He looks so contrite, and as there truly hasn’t been any harm done, I immediately feel bad for freaking out.

“It’s fine,” I tell him. “Maybe just a heads up next time?”

He nods readily.

“What’s in the basket?”

“Breakfast,” he says with a wide, pleased smile.

It takes me a full five seconds to process. “You had our breakfast waiting in… a portal? I don’t… I mean… how did you do that?”

“I opened a portal back to the kitchens and gathered the materials I put together this morning.” He says it like it’s the most logical thing in the world.

“Yeah, but how? One moment you were here and then you were…well, nowhere.”

“Ley lines and power,” he says, shrugging. “As… what was it you called us, ‘crossroads demons?’… we are particularly sensitive to moving through streams of power. Creating them, as well, though that takes more natural magickal inclination than the average demon possesses.”

“So,” I begin, still processing. “You could have just portaled us here? Why did we fly?”

“I enjoy flying with you,” he says with a roguish smile. “And I thought it would be nice for you to see some more of your new realm.”

Alright. I suppose that makes sense.

Eren is still looking a little chagrined, not quite sure if he messed up or not, and his expression is so endearing that I have to smile.

“I like flying with you too,” I tell him.

He grins at me, and I step forward to lift the lid on the basket he’s holding. Warm, delicious smells wash over me—bread, fruit, savory breakfast meat, and something that smells wonderfully like coffee.

“Breakfast?” I ask.

“Breakfast,” he agrees.

Eren takes my hand in his free one to lead me over to a wide, flat-topped rock overlooking the lake. Pulling a cloth from the basket, he drapes it over the top of the rock and starts pulling items out.

My demon husband is taking me on a breakfast picnic.

For a few seconds, the thought is so absolutely bizarre that all I can do is stand there and watch him as he works. He’s still got a smile on his face and his posture is relaxed, like this is the most normal thing in the world. He keeps working until he looks up and sees me staring.

“Is something wrong?”

“No!” I hurriedly assure him. “No, nothing is wrong.”

Shaking off the last of my disbelief, I sit cross-legged in the soft patch of grass beside our makeshift table, looking at the spread. Eren reaches forward and picks up a small hunk of bread, dipping into a deep red jam with bits of fruit in it.

“Try this,” he says enthusiastically. “It’s made of hearthberries, something I don’t think you have back in the human realm.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “We don’t.”

When he lifts the bite of bread and jam toward my mouth, I realize he means to feed me. It’s on the tip of my tongue to protest—some part of me has always been a little weird about food, romantic partners, and getting past my own hangups about my body and others’ expectations for it—but I stop when I remember the point of today.

Get to know each other better, let our guards down, find out if there’s anything to this marriage and this bargain we’re meant to help strengthen.

Tossing my lingering reservations aside, I open my lips eagerly for him. He sets the morsel on my tongue and I let my teeth scrape against his fingers when he pulls his hand away. It earns me a small rumbling growl that echoes straight down between my thighs.

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