Night had fallen. After the angel’s second attack, a strange calm had taken over castle Gabáuan. Snow fell for the first time this year, and all the fireplaces within the tick stonewalls had been lit hours ago. Still, their comfortable warmth needed more time to penetrate the draughty castle.

Rosomil sat inside his study, the large fireplace lit and filling the room with warmth and the smell of burning wood. A smell which usually calmed him, but not this time. Beyond the transformation spell, which had shaken him more than he cared to admit, he also couldn’t help but think about the Ravendemon and his feelings towards her.

His mind was trapped within the loop of those thoughts. On one hand, Rosomil could still feel his muscles twitch and imagined his bones growing, twisting and braking. More often than not, he looked at his hands or feet, half expecting the bird-like features to reemerge. And once he managed to subdue the itching pain, his mind returned to the Ravendemon. It wasn’t just the way she had helped him after transformation stuck in his head, but also the way she had smiled while he had helped her preen her injured wing.

“Her expression… Her smile”, he murmured and ran his hand across his face. “I want her to look at me this way. But why? Why?”

He tried to reason with himself. Telling himself that it was her doing. That she played with him. That she manipulated his mind and heart, but he couldn’t believe it. Sure, she had teased him often. Mainly to get a reaction out of him. But it had always been an immediate reaction she seemed after, and not this quiet misery she didn’t even witness most of the time.

Suddenly, the memory of him almost kissing her a few hours ago invaded his mind once more and made him groan.

“Why?”, he murmured again, and rubbed his hands once more across his face and through his hair.

Miserable, Rosomil looked up and immediately found the Tome within his sight. As if the book were the root of his misery, he pushed it away and buried his face inside his palms. But the images of his demon stayed the same within his mind. His hand painting blood on her pale skin. The way she had leaned towards him. As if she were fine with being this close. As if she wanted him to kiss her.

Rosomil felt like a child. Like some confused pining teenager despite being a little more than twice the age. Thankfully, he was alone inside his study, so no one could see him despair over something so trivial. Especially not her.

With a sigh, he stood up and went to the door of his study. There was little sense in continuing his misery inside the study with the Tome close by. He could easily continue twisting his mind inside his bedchamber and hopefully escape into sleep. Although he doubted even sleep could help him find peace.

Upon opening the narrow door, he turned back and snuffed the candles and the fire inside the fireplace with a flick of his hand. But as he wanted to leave, he found himself face to face with the Ravendemon.

Uncertain, Rosomil stopped in the middle of the door and stared at her. She just stood there and regarded him. Her face framed by her dark hair and the flickering lights of the torches inside the corridor. Unblinking. Tense. Her wings pressed tight against her frame. Despite her unreadable expression, Rosomil thought he could sense uncertainty.

“How are your arm and wing?”, he asked to break the tense silence. “Do you need your bandages changed?”

“I removed them already”, she replied, unusually subdued, and flexed the hand and wing in question. “Thanks to your medicine, my wounds healed faster than I anticipated. How about you? Do you still feel any aftereffects from your involuntary transformation?”

“No”, he lied and fought the urge to close the door on her. “I’m fine.”

“Lair.”

This took him by surprise.

“Don’t try to play tough”, she continued. “You didn’t lose your mind, but you were quite close. Too close. May I come in?”

“Sure”, he replied before he could stop himself and stepped aside.

The demon entered the study and lighted the candles and the fireplace just like he had extinguished them. For a moment she stood there as if unsure of herself, then she turned towards him, her expression still tense and with hints of uncertainty. Rosomil understood her silent request and entered the room while closing the door. Again, he felt like a teen and hated himself for it.

“Did you grow scales or feathers without your intention”, she asked concerned.

“Not that I noticed”, he replied slowly. “Just imagined it a few times.”

“You’re sure those were just imagination?”

“Yes.”

She fell silent after that and looked over at the Tome. She seemed filled with reluctance considering the book. As if she didn’t like it. As if she would prefer to tear it apart herself. A moment later, she picked it up and flitted through a few pages.

Stolen story; please report.

Her behaviour felt odd.

The whole situation felt odd.

Fleeting.

Unreal.

Like a dream.

“You’re making slow progress”, she remarked and placed the book back down on the desk. “Because you’re jittery and in emotional turmoil. This doesn’t lend itself to proper magic use. A mage must cast spells with forethought and a calm mind or the magic can backfire.”

“I know”, he murmured tense.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand”, she remarked softly after studying him for a few moments.

“Which would be?”, he asked subdued and forced himself to look into her burning eyes.

“Why do you torture yourself so much?”, she asked and earned herself a confused look. “Why aren’t you just calling me to your bedchamber and be done with it?”

“W-what are you talking about?”, he asked flabbergasted and felt his face burn up.

“You know what I’m talking about, or you wouldn’t be blushing right now”, she replied amused. “You want to sleep with me for some time now. The way you looked and still look at me… The way you touched my face in this vulnerable state you were in… You must think me blind if you hoped I wouldn’t notice.”

Rosomil didn’t know what to say. And even if he knew, he couldn’t bring his throat to make a single sound.

“You can call me anytime”, she continued flirtatious. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I don’t want to force myself on you”, he finally forced out in despair. “I know you hate me, so I understand you must find the idea of me touching you absolutely abhorrent. If it suits you, we can forget that we had this conversation and proceed as usual. Just knowing where we stand on the matter.”

“I don’t hate you.”

He could only muster a confused sound.

“I said, I don’t hate you. You sure are annoying at times and I sometimes find myself hating your inadequacies and you in the process, but true profound hatred needs much longer to simmer and even longer to burn. Besides, it’s fun to tease and flirt with you. And you’ve a pretty face and your perturbed expressions are adorable.”

The soft smile on her face made Rosomil wish she wouldn’t mean what she just said. All of this was so uncharacteristic of her. The soft expressions, the slight uncertainty reverberating in her voice despite her forwardness, didn’t make this any less strange.

I’m asleep, he told himself. I’m dreaming the dream of a desperate fool.

Slow, as if uncertain, she reached out with her claws and ran them gently across his cheek and along his jawline. The tingling sensation and the implications of this tender gesture made him shiver. He couldn’t help but move closer to her.

“Don’t play with me”, whispered Rosomil tense while leaning into her hand. “Please, just… just don’t play one of your mind-games with me right now.”

For a moment, her expression darkened. A moment eternal and long enough for Rosomil to curse himself. For him to wish he could plunge a knife into his chest. To make his heart stop beating so fervently. To stop feeling this desperate.

“I’m not in the mood for those”, she said, contemplative. “At first I thought about stringing you along, but deep down I couldn’t bring myself to be this mean. Not after the way you looked at me so often and tended to me while I was injured. Moreover, I did enjoy the way you preened my feathers. You can be very gentle, when you put your mind to it.”

She stepped closer, her hand still on his cheek, turned human — quite to some of his disappointment.

“Please don’t change”, said Rosomil and felt a pang of embarrassment.

“Oh!”, the demon exclaimed with genuine surprise and delight. “You’re one of those people…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, he asked confused and frowned.

“Nothing”, she answered amused while her hand returned into a bird-like claw. “Don’t mind me rambling. Rosomil.”

Hearing her say his name for the first time made his heart almost jump from his chest. Using his stunned state she closed in. With her lips hovering above his, she stopped. The only thing touching his skin was her soft breath. She held absolutely still. Almost like a bird of prey watching its victim.

Immediately he knew that she left the choice to him. Indulge your desires or step back. He could almost hear her say those words.

If this is just a dream then…, he mused and decided to stop thinking.

With his eyes shut, he closed the gap and kissed her.

Her lips were softer and warmer than he had dared to imagine. A pleasant shiver ran down his neck and along his spine as she immediately returned the kiss. Following his instinct, he wrapped his arms around her. Soft yet sturdy feathers tingled across his palms and wrists. In response, she leaned her whole body against his and warped her arms tightly around his shoulders.

Tilting his head, he relished not only the feeling of her frame against his but also the way she ran her claws, mindful of their sharpness through his hair and along his neck. Rosomil could barely keep himself focused.

Suddenly, she pulled at his lower lip with her teeth. He wanted to do the same, but the moment he opened his mouth, she slid her tongue in.

At first, this felt alien but faster than Rosomil thought possibly he enjoyed the way she ran her tongue along his. The moan that escaped his throat embarrassed him a little and caused him, beyond the need for air, to pull away for a moment.

“Breathless already?”, the demon asked bemused while brushing her sharp claws again along his jawline.

“Perhaps I need to make you breathless”, he teased her in turn.

“Is that a promise or a challenge?”, she asked playful.

“Both”, he replied, and sealed her mouth once more with his before she could speak again.

If this was a dream, then he wanted to keep it going.

To relish it.

To indulge it.

This time he slipped his tongue into her mouth and ran his hands along her soft face and down into her feathers. Readily, she let him go as far he wanted and slacked her jaw. For a few fast heartbeats he was confused, but then he felt the reason why. Her teeth were inhumanly sharp and pointed. Still, Rosomil was fascinated by their form and ran his tongue along the points of her canines. A sharp prick of pain was his reward, accompanied by the taste of his own blood. Instinctively, he pulled away.

“Careful”, she breathed. “Or shall I exchange them for something less sharp?”

“Keep them”, he told her, his voice heavy and slightly breaking.

“You’re a man with special tastes”, she chuckled and brushed her fingertips across his lips. “And a surprising good kisser. Want to continue?”

Instead of answering, Rosomil felt bold and lifted her on the desk. Before she could say anything, he kissed her once more, this time much deeper. He ran his hand through her feathers, exploring every inch of her body. After a few moments, she started to pull at and undo his clothes. He only realised what she was doing once he felt her claws run down his naked chest. Rosomil didn’t want it any other way, and just like with any dream of that nature, what followed became a rush of desire and emotions.