Page 40 of Monsters' Manor

Because of me. Because of how I treated him yesterday.

“Hi,” I murmur, trying for an apologetic smile. “Do you have a minute?”

“Of course.”

He sets aside the tools he’s holding. I immediately feel guilty for interrupting him when I see the dismantled mechanical…somethinghe was working on.

“You don’t have to stop what you were doing just because of me,” I say quickly. “If you’re busy, I can come back later and—”

“It’s no problem. I was just adjusting some of the pyrotechnics for tonight’s show.”

Nowthat’sa whole lot more interesting to me than it should be. “Really? You use fire in here?”

A pulse of wicked teasing in his eyes, a slight quirking up at the corners of his lips that loosens some of the tension between us.

“Of course,” he says, like it’s obvious. “This is Lucifer’s Parlor, after all. What would the Devil be without a little fire?”

“Show me?”

Renwick beckons me over and I crouch down beside him. “See here? It’s something Odelia whipped up. Gives me a pretty impressive backdrop of flames for my show.”

A black metal pipe runs along the baseboard, with a series of small openings where he explains that columns of non-incinerating flame shoot up at his command throughout his nightly performance.

“I’m sure you’re quite a sight,” I say, and Renwick grins at me.

“I certainly am. You should come and see me sometime.”

When I glance over, he’s closer than I expected, close enough for me to see all the textured ridges on his horns and the glint in his red eyes. Close enough to appreciate the wild, feral beauty of him and feel my heart rate tick up in response.

Standing, I loose a shaky breath and try to pull it the hell together. I was tangled up in a shade’s shadows less than twelve hours ago; I don’t need to be lusting over this demon, too.

Renwick stands as well, and the two of us lapse into a weighted, awkward silence. With our short small-talk reprieve over, everything unsaid between us feels heavier than ever.

“About yesterday,” I begin, hesitantly. “During our training…”

Renwick runs a hand over one of his horns, a gesture that seems almost nervous, and his next words are rushed and filled with regret.

“I’m so sorry for how I acted, Rosemary. Pushing you like that. Making you use more magick than you were ready for. Making you feel—”

“No,” I say gently. “It’s alright. I agreed to Odelia’s terms, and I knew what I was getting into training with you.I’msorry. For freaking out and running away like that.”

He shakes his head, not ready to let it drop. “Still, I shouldn’t have pushed so hard. I shouldn’t have made you—”

“Renwick.” At my use of his name, he goes entirely still. “It’s alright.”

I hold out my hand. He glances down at it for a moment before taking it in his own, his huge palm and long fingers engulfing it completely.

“Truce?” I ask.

His smile returns and he squeezes my hand. “Truce.”

The moment stretches long between us—skin to skin, eyes locked. The weight of the air and the hum of magick in the room remind me of the night I just spent with Silas. A sudden pulse of nerves trembles in the bottom of my stomach.

Is this wrong? Standing here with Renwick, enjoying the touch of his hand on mine and the heat of him radiating between us?

Silas’s words from last night rattle around in my brain.

Don’t deny yourself any part of this world, Rosemary.

---