Page 31 of Demon's Mate
He had better things to do. He didn’t trust the shearwaters like Dante did and wasn’t ready to stake his freedom on the birds warning them of Lucifer’s arrival. He should have been doing his own tracking, not sitting here lurking.
But Ash had flown by Harper’s apartment the last couple of days, lingering each time. It had become a habit.
He watched Harper hand his blond friend a bowl of what looked like pasta, then cross the living room to close the curtain against the night. Damn.
Ash itched to move closer, to perch invisibly outside Harper’s window and listen through the glass. He was being a creep, and the truly frightening thing was how little it bothered him.
Being near Harper felt right.Thiswas where Ash was supposed to be.
But he didn’t understand why.
The uncontrollable urge to claim Harper hadn’t returned. Ash’s stalkerish presence wasn’t prompted by lust or physical desire. He wasn’t craving Harper’s blood or overwhelmed with visions of how he might fuck Harper and make him his. It would have made sense if those urges had drawn him here. He didn’t understand wanting to be here otherwise.
If he were honest, this deep need to be near Harper was closer to what Ash once imagined the mating connection would be like rather than the frenzy he’d gone into the other night. He hated admitting that, even to himself.
Ash couldn’t afford to hope after more than a millennium and a half. It would pull him apart. Hopelessness was safer. He was used to the empty ache and the anger. It was a part of him. He was fine with grumbling at the world and accustomed to being alone.
But the possibility of a partner started to intrude.
What if Ash could face the next thousand years with his mate? He’d been different once, less grouchy and full of dreams, and just like back then, the idea of connecting with someone and sharing everything sparked something in him, blooming deep within and chasing that emptiness away.
He still wanted it. He just wished he didn’t.
The next morning,Ash was still on the roof across from Harper’s apartment.
During the night, he’d decided all he needed was to see Harper one last time, then he’d leave and not return. Closure would banish the uncomfortable fluttering that had taken up residence in his chest, leaving him free to concentrate on more pressing problems instead of torturing himself by allowing longing for a mate to creep back in.
So, one last look, and that would be the end of this foolishness.
Ash expected Harper to open the curtains to his bedroom, which he’d noticed was next to the living room and conveniently faced the street. However, the morning went on and the curtains stayed shut.
Harper’s blond friend left the apartment building at a reasonable hour, but there was no sign of Harper. Ash clenched his fists, glaring at the shuttered window. Had something happened? Was Harper sick? Ash fought the urge to launch across the street, break into the building, and check on him.
At last, Harper exited the apartment building, stepping onto the street and glancing around. Ash’s rigid posture sagged. Harper didn’t look sick.
His lips were so pink and delicate. Ash’s fluttering chest settled into an ache. He rubbed at it. If only he could fly down and speak to Harper, hear his voice. But Harper wouldn’t want to see him after the shameful way Ash had left him.
Harper looked over his shoulder, then started down the road. Ash took flight and followed, invisible.
Why hadn’t Harper opened his curtains? Was that Harper’s usual morning routine? Did he sleep late? The need to knowpulsed through Ash, setting his aching chest throbbing. Anything Ash learned about Harper was like a treasure, a spark he could hold on to.
Ash watched from the sky as Harper came to a street corner, had a good look around, and crossed, continuing on toward the river. Maybe finding out where Harper was going would satisfy his need for a tiny bit more of him.
He followed Harper for several blocks. Harper seemed to look over his shoulder and scan the street more often than anyone else out walking. At first, Ash wondered if he was meeting someone, but after this long, it seemed more like Harper was worried he was being followed.
Unease prickled along Ash’s skin the longer he watched.
Was someone after Harper? Was he in danger? Ash’s demon fire sparked and his fangs dropped. He tasted smoke. No one was allowed to hurt Harper.
Ash scanned Harper’s surroundings more carefully. No one around was acting suspicious, but that didn’t mean there was no danger. The desire to protect his sweet flower burned brighter than Ash’s longing.
Harper needed him.
Ash followed as Harper continued through the Banks. On a street filled with shops, Harper checked his surroundings one last time and disappeared inside a faded green building.
Ash landed on the awning of the store opposite. The faded sign above the door read:The Herb Emporium. Ash’s brow furrowed. An apothecary?
The shop looked genuine, and sure enough, a lit black candle flickered in the right-hand corner of the window, meaning it was a witch-owned business, not just a human shop selling novelties.
