Page 41 of Her Demon Mate

The look on his face is tranquil, not a worry in the creases of his forehead. Never has he been more beautiful than he is in this moment, but alongside my feelings of admiration for him is guilt and regret.

I should not have stayed here last night. I’m only getting more caught up in his desires. There are far more important things to be focusing on than getting laid.

Quietly, I get out of bed and pick my clothes up off the floor from where they were thrown last night. I curse under my breath when I look at the clock, remembering I have a shift down at the bakery in a few hours' time.

I slip into my garments, wishing work was the only thing on my mind. Last night had been perhaps the best night in all of my life, but ultimately, all it had accomplished was sidetracking me from what I needed to do.

I make my way to the door, but I stop in the middle of the frame and glance over my shoulder. Azron shifts underneath the sheets, mindlessly grabbing the pillow I was sleeping on, perhaps thinking it’s me.

A wave of sadness hits me, the weight of which I can feel dragging me down. I know he likes me as more than a friend, and even worse is knowing I like him back in the exact same way. Gods, it’s a lot more than just ‘like.’

“Goodbye, Azron,” I whisper, blowing a kiss his way. It’s the hardest thing for me to close the door and leave him be. For the first time in years, I don’t feel so… empty. I sold my soul to rid this world of the evil that claims to be righteous, and after I fled New Solas, I didn’t even realize that my life was vacant and purposeless.

Until Azron. Until the few hours we had before Zephon showed his face and ruined everything good in my life for the second time.

I try to shove down the overwhelming wave of emotion that threatens to drag me under as I finally close Azron’s bedroom door behind me. I’m falling for him. I think I might’ve started falling for him the moment he apologized to me in the bakery – no, the moment we met.

But I can’t be with him. Because he can never know who I truly am.

I pass by the open files on the kaffo table. I take one last look at the reports, knowing soon that there will be one more person on the list of victims.

I leave the apartment, closing the door quietly behind me.I should start thinking of what to do after I take care of Zephon. His murder is bound to attract a lot of attention from the xaphan, and if they send more over, I might get recognized.

I yawn, running a hand over my head as I reach the building’s exit.

“There’s far too much to be thinking about already. I’ll have to figure out an escape after I do the deed… If there is one.”

I step out into the streets of Sarziroch, feeling the heat of the morning sun. I take a final look behind me at Azron’s building. Once again, I’m gutted that I must leave him behind.

I want him, I know that for a fact. In an ideal world, we would be together, but this is far from an ideal existence and so I have to come to terms that I cannot have what I really want.

I cannot be with the man who is hunting me down while I’m going after my final target. In what world do I explain to him that I am a killer, and yet somehow still make things work between us? Not this one, that’s for sure.

I forcibly rip my gaze away from Azron’s place of residence, keeping my eyes straight ahead of me as I start walking back in the direction of my home. His home finally disappears around a street corner, and I swallow the hard pill of knowing that I’ll never be there with him again.

“I must have vengeance for my mother,” I tell myself. “That’s who is most important to me right now, that’s who this is all for.”

It is she that still holds my heart, yet there is another force tearing at it. I know myself very well and have told myself nothing but the truth for all of my life. There is one truth now that forces itself to the front of my mind and knocks violently on the door of my heart.

I have fallen in love with the demon Azron, and that makes walking away from him so much harder than I originally anticipated.

Luckily, the streets are quiet at this time of the morning. It’s the period after the nightlife has come to an end, before the working class starts their days. No one is around to see me crying. I’m strong but even I am weak against my emotions.

I finally step into my door. Part of me is exhausted and begs for further rest. I am half tempted to retreat to the comfort of my own bed, but I decide against it. After all, I’d only be able to get another hour at most.

I choose to move my furniture aside and make space for training. I have stayed consistent with my exercising over the years but it has been a long time since I practiced taking a life.

Before I begin my training, my glance meets the closet door, knowing traces of my past rest dormant in there, calling me to them. I don’t go, not yet.

The training itself is tough and grueling, and my body feels the effects of not having worked so intensely in a long time. I picture my enemies in front of me as I continue shadowboxing and striking with my dagger.

I let myself become entrenched in the dark places my mind brings me. I couldn’t say that I liked who I was when I had the intent to kill, but I didn’t have to. All that matters is that this person is the woman for the job.

She is like an old friend whom I haven’t invited around for years. She takes control of me, awakening the darkest thoughts in my mind, the ones that drive and fuel me to kill.

I get so carried away that I eventually end up throwing my dagger into the wall. I care not, for my place isn’t exactly one to brag about. For me, another hole in the wall is like a new book on the shelf.

“I haven’t felt this kind of rush in so long,” I mutter in amazement.