Page 86 of Demons In My Head: Exposing the Exiled
My chest got all tight thinking about everything. Sure, he was slightly more see-through than I remembered, but beggars couldn't be choosers. And the fact that he was Palmer's mate? Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
"Seriously, though," Ashland said, "be careful. We don't know if—"
"If there are still threats lurking about, if Scorpio might show up, if Palmer's going to need more than just food when she wakes." I ticked off the concerns on my fingers. "I got it covered,Dad. Promise I'll be a good boy."
Rhodes made a choking sound. "You wouldn't know how to be good if your life depended on it."
"True." I flashed him my most wicked grin. "But that's why you love me."
Before anyone else could try to rain on my parade, I jumped straight to the castle kitchens. The delicious scent of fresh bread hit me, and my stomach growled. Okay, maybe this food run wasn'tentirelyaltruistic.
As I started gathering supplies, I couldn't help but replay all of the moments with Palmer earlier. There was recognitionbetween us, understanding. Sheknewnow. Knew what we were, what we could be together.
I'd been saying it since that first night at the club—she was made for us. All of us. Even my ghostly brother, apparently, which just proved my point. The universe didn't make mistakes like that.
My tail materialized without permission, knocking over a bowl of fruit. "Shit." I grabbed for it, managing to catch most of the apples before they hit the floor. One rolled away under a cabinet, and I left it. Some castle mouse was about to have the feast of its life, but—
"Oh my GODS!" I squealed, clutching my chest when a little black mouse scurried right over my damn foot, heading straight for the apple I'd dropped.
"Grow up! Espèce de gros démon mal dégrossi au QI d’huître!"
I blinked and looked around. Who the hell said that? Damn, I really needed to eat something.
I should probably have reined in my demon parts before I wrecked the whole kitchen, but I was too amped up. Everything felt possible right then. We had Palmer back. We had Jasper. We had a second chance to do this right.
My wings fluttered against my back, wanting to burst free, too. "Down, boys," I muttered. "Let's focus on the mission."
Right. Food. For Palmer. Our beautiful, powerful, slightly terrifying witch who just happened to be perfect for us in every way.
Gods, I couldn't wait for her to wake up.
I spied several loaves of fresh bread and reached for them when—POOF—they vanished, right before my eyes. Here one second, gone the next. What the actual fu— A prickle crawled up my spine.Someone's watching. I whirled around, an apple clutched in each fist, muscles tensed to crush whoever's skull stood between me and those mysteriously disappearing loaves...
A dark figure materialized by the counter, casually holding my stolen bread loaves. I recognized him instantly. He had dark curly hair, which was looking like he’d just had a post-battle romp. Well, normally I’d high-five a hungry dude after killing and sex, but not a thief! He tilted his head, and a nose ring caught the light, illuminating his naturally warm, deep brown skin, like the sun at dusk. The stranger's eyes met mine with a predatory gleam that matched the sharp fangs visible as he reached down and grabbed another loaf from a different stack. How much bread did one person need?
"That's my bread, asshole." I hurled an apple at his head with demonic speed.
He caught it in his teeth. Actually caught it. In histeeth. Then crushed it, juice running down his chin as he maintained eye contact.
"Was your bread," he corrected, before wincing and spitting little pieces of apple out of his mouth like he'd just tasted the worst thing on earth. He set the bread down and hopped off the counter, straight for a bottle of red wine, and started chugging.
Oh, it wason.
I vaulted over the counter, wings bursting free as I landed in a crouch. "Listen up, Count Fangface—"
"Faris," he interrupted, wiping his mouth and matching my crouch. "Blood mage. And you're one of The Exiled. The unhinged one."
"Talon," I growled, tail lashing. I didn’t care that this was the one that beastly dragon Sloane had wanted me to meet; he had an attitude problem! But on the other hand, he was one hell of a fighter. I’d seen him out there, and I had to admit, I was impressed. "And I'm perfectly hinged, thank you very much."
He barked a laugh. "Well, I'm fuckin' not hinged, not even one percent! And you're the demon currently perched like a gargoyle with produce as weapons."
I glanced at the apple still clutched in my hand. Fair point. So I ate it, core and all, maintaining eye contact right back at him.
Faris's grin turned feral. "Amateur." He grabbed a whole pineapple and bit into it like an apple, spikes and all. "Fuck, that's foul."
"Oh sweetie," I purred, "you have no idea." I snatched up a watermelon and crushed it against my forehead, letting the pieces rain down around me. "Your move, blood boy."
Faris wiped some pineapple juice off his face, his eyes gleaming with unholy delight. "Oh, you're fun. I like you."
