A Demon's Guide to Wooing a Witch （Glimmer Falls, #2(104)

Ozroth looked toward the door of the restaurant, and his expression softened. “Yes, I am.”

“Even losing your immortality?” Astaroth pressed.

“Especially losing my immortality.” Ozroth’s mouth curved in a small smile. “My life may be shorter, but it’s so much brighter. Why would I want to go back to what I was before?”

Why, indeed? With fresh Earth air in Astaroth’s nostrils and laughter echoing from some raucous group nearby, it was tempting to remain. To squeeze as much brightness as he could from this colorful world.

Ozroth had never wanted a career in politics though. He hadn’t been born to it the way Astaroth had. The demon plane was already short a bargainer in Ozroth; if Astaroth never returned, they’d be short another bargainer and a powerful voice for change.

No, Astaroth needed to return to power, and he needed his immortality to do it. Just because a new story had started didn’t mean his responsibilities had ended.

There wasn’t room for loving a mortal in that story.

Human emotions couldn’t be reshaped so easily though. Astaroth loved Calladia, and he would keep loving her for as long as he could.

And if his heart ached at the thought of their inevitable separation?

Well, as Elwenna had known when she’d given her child up, sacrifices had to be made for the species.

Time for Astaroth to make one.

THIRTY

Calladia eyed the door nervously. With logistics for the upcoming Hybrid Rights Campaign hammered out, most of the group had dispersed, but Oz and Astaroth still weren’t back.

“Don’t worry,” Themmie said as she drank her third milkshake. Her wings twitched, and she was practically quivering from sugar intake. “If they’d killed each other, we would have heard screaming by now.”

“How comforting.”

“Unless the kill was quick. Oz could have gutted him and disposed of the body before anyone noticed.”

“Hey,” Calladia said, offended on Astaroth’s behalf. “Why do you assume Oz would win?”

Mariel, Ben, and Themmie gave her matching skeptical looks.

The werewolves had decamped for a rugby game, and the demonesses had returned to their home plane to set plans in motion, so only the four friends were left at NecroNomNomNoms. It felt nice to be with them, though Calladia still felt awkward about the whole sleeping-with-the-enemy thing. Not that she’d outright admitted to sleeping with the demon, but Mariel had given her a series of knowing and judgmental looks that said she knew what Calladia had been up to.

“Oh, come on,” Calladia said, leaning into the argument to cover up her worry. “Astaroth would totally win in a fight. He’s more experienced than Oz.”

“And at least forty pounds lighter,” Ben said.

“He’s an accomplished swordsman.”

“Yeah?” Themmie asked. “Where’s his sword?”

“He’s very good with a stick, too.”

“Oh, is that what you’re calling it?” Mariel asked. “Has he been bludgeoning you with his stick frequently?”

Busted. Calladia’s cheeks grew hot. “None of your business.”

“That is exactly my business,” Mariel said. “I’m your best friend, and the last I knew, you hated Astaroth’s guts. Now you’re hooking up with him?”

Themmie slurped loudly. “Mmmm,” she said. “This is delicious.”

Bless Themmie for trying to distract from the awkward conversation. Calladia shot her a grateful look.

“Maybe I’ll get one, too,” Ben said, looking warily between the three women. The introverted werewolf had been helpful in strategizing an approach for their campaign, but it was clear the emotional undercurrents at the table made him uncomfortable.

“Not the milkshake,” Themmie said. “Well, the milkshake is good, too, if a little savory. I mean this role reversal.” She brought her fingers to her lips for a chef’s kiss gesture. “Delectable.”

Curse Themmie for being a drama-mongering agent of chaos. Calladia scowled at her.

“What do you mean a role reversal?” Ben asked.

Calladia braced herself. She should have known she wouldn’t get away without, as Astaroth would say, getting the absolute piss taken out of her. Mariel was a forgiving type, but her raised brows and pursed lips told Calladia she was going to make her squirm first.

“Well,” Themmie said with gleeful vindictiveness, “Calladia here was adamantly anti-Oz when he first showed up. I seem to recall a late night at the Centaur Cafe when we had a heated discussion about Mariel hooking up with him.”

Mariel snapped her fingers. “Now that you mention it, I remember that night, too.”

Calladia groaned and thumped her forehead against the table.

“Calladia was appalled,” Themmie explained to Ben. “Kissing a demon! Just imagine it!”

“I’d rather not,” Ben said.

Themmie was just getting started. “Calladia was practically clutching her pearls. How could Mariel want to bump uglies with someone who wanted to steal her soul?”

“The horror!” Mariel echoed.

“Our dear Calladia would never do such a thing herself, right? And definitely not with the demon who actually wanted to steal Mariel’s soul. No, sir, she’s far too discerning for that.”