Page 12 of Demon Food

My turn to sigh, long and dramatic.

“Even though I don’t want it,” he said. “Even though I’ve told you time and time again that I have no desire for a spouse or a family, or a human. All I want to do is monetize my time with them so that I might care for myself one day.”

See, that was where he was so wrong. That just further proved my point that he was too young to make his own decisions.

“You can’t tell me you don’t love it, too, Feloré. You can’t tell me you would ever be able to be with a human after being with them.”

I wet my lips. I’d never been with a human, but I knew in my bones it could never compare. But this wasn’t about me—it was too late for me. I’d already tasted the poison and sold my soul. This was my path forever.

It wasn’t too late for him.

“Yeah, see, that’s the difference,” I said, lifting my chin. “I’ll never have the chance to be with a human.”

He dissolved into a groan, rubbing his eyes.

“Have you ever wondered why they feel so good?” I asked. “Because it’s all they have to offer in exchange for feeding on us like the parasites they are. They have to give pleasure, because beneath their pretty skin, they know they’re venomous, deplorable creatures. They’re incapable of loving anything that is not themselves.”

He shook his head. “That’s not true. It’s not. If you took a minute to just talk to Corbyn, you’d see⁠—”

“Corbyn, the sex demon, doesn’t give a shit about you, Landry. No one gives a shit about either of us. And they never will. We’re all each other has.”

“No, see, that’s the difference. I am not all you have. You have a life.” He jammed a finger at me. “You have work. I only have you, and it’s fucking suffocating me.”

It took me a moment to grasp what he just said. My voice was barely there as I asked, “Suffocating?”

“Yes!” He raked his fingers through his hair and gripped like he could pull it out. “I’m trapped in this room where you won’t let me have my own experiences or make my own decisions. You won’t let me do anything where I might even get a little hurt, and I feel like I can’t fucking breathe, Feloré.”

It hit me somewhere deep and unexpected. I didn’t…do that. I didn’t suffocate him. I loved him.

“I don’t want to be this broken thing you’re plagued with taking care of,” he sighed. “I want my own life.”

I shook my head. I could feel what was coming. All of these hurtful words just so he could say⁠—

“I want to talk to Terrek.”

“No.” I shook my head harder. We’d beaten this point since he turned nineteen, and my answer would never change. “Fuck, no.”

He folded his arms, lifting his chin. “Well, it’s not your decision, is it? I’m not a child anymore. At the orphanage, they chose me to be a concubine the same as you.”

“Doesn’t matter.” I just kept shaking my head like it would make a difference. “You need to have a real life. You don’t need to be owned by them. You’ll thank me one day⁠—”

“It’s my body,” he said, a bite to his tone. “It’s not yours. Just like it’s my fucking life⁠—”

“But it’s my fucking brothel.”

He swallowed.

“I make more than anyone else in it, and trust me on this, if I say no, Terrek says no. It’s as simple as that.”

His sapphire gaze burned with anger.

“So, you can pout, and you can cry, and you can give me that look all you want, but it’s not going to change my mind. Everything I do has been to protect you, which is why my answer always has been and always will be no.”

Did it hurt my soul to see the resentment in his eyes? Like a teen who hated their father? Yes. But one day he would thank me.

He was too young to realize the magnitude of what he was asking and how radically his life would change the second he got this metal bar shoved through his tongue. With the quotas and the exhaustion, he wouldn’t last a week down there.

And if he did, if he somehow made it, it’d change his entire brain chemistry every time he had to watch someone get banished to the fields for not being able to ‘cut it.’