Page 33 of Sent To A Fantasy World and Now All the Men Want Me 7

“Well, I’m not human, so why would I move like one?”

“I mean...” I shifted weight to my other foot. “That’s a fair statement, I guess. But still. You can’t just pop in like that. We humans have hearts that can stop at any moment.”

“We demons have hearts as well.” He crossed his arms. “Or do you truly think me heartless?”

“Depends on the day.” I bent to pick up the toast for the second time, sighing at the mess once again. “You’re wishy-washy. Stubborn too.”

“And you’re intoxicated.”

“Not anymore,” I mumbled before discarding the toast and then wetting a rag to clean the honey off the floor. “But talking to you right now makes me wish I was.”

“Ah, so you’re a sassy drunk.” Onyx drew closer to me. The golden glow of the light crystal flickered across his porcelain skin, bringing out warmer tones. It shimmered in his eyes too, like bright red rubies caught in a smoldering fire.

“Yeah, what of it?” I put my hands on my hips.

“I believe I erred when calling you a little bird.” His predatory gait had my stomach flip-flopping. If I was a bird, he was most definitely a jaguar. Once close enough, he lifted his hand to the side of my neck, caressing my skin with the pad of his thumb. “You’re much too feisty.”

“Birds can be feisty,” I told him, trying to ignore the wild fluttering of my heart as he touched me. “Careful or I’ll start pecking at you.”

His answering chuckle caused a dip in my stomach, like that feeling when you’re at the top of a roller coaster and start teetering over the edge for a sharp drop.

“You should do that more.” My snarky tone slipped into something softer as I looked at him, noting the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes that accompanied his laugh.

“Do what?” he asked.

“Letting yourself express how you really feel. Instead of pretending to be a block of ice.”

“A block of ice?” His lips twitched.

“Sometimes you’re a volcano.” I scrutinized him. “Ice-cold one moment and scorching hot the next.”

There was a slight jump in his cheek, as though he were fighting hard not to smile. “If I’m a volcano, what does that make you?”

“A field of daisies,” I said, answering with the first thing that popped into my head. “Because I’m delightful and not stubborn and frustrating like you.”

“You are no daisy.” His expressions rarely gave insight to his thoughts, but in that moment, tenderness threaded through his crimson eyes. “You’re more like a field of red lilies. Beautiful, yet dangerous to all the poor souls who see them.”

Flustered by the intensity of his gaze—and trying to process his words—I looked toward the window. A wave of nausea swished around in my gut, and I slapped a hand to my churning belly, softly groaning. Hopefully I wasn’t about to blow chunks all over the kitchen.

“Are you feeling ill?” Onyx asked with such a level of concern it had me forgetting all about my stomach. It showed that beneath it all, he did care about me.

Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

“Kind of,” I responded, that earlier embarrassment of my drunken dinner shenanigans rearing its ugly head once more. “The ale isn’t sitting well. But I’ll be okay. Nothing some greasy food and carbs can’t fix.”

A subtle amusement surfaced in his eyes. “How unfortunate that you dropped your bread on the floor, then. I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned from this about spying on others.”

“Spying?” I huffed. “That’s not what I was doing. I was hungry and came in here for a snack, then saw you standing on the terrace worshipping the moon or whatever you were doing out there this late.”

His lips twitched. “Worshipping the moon? I regret to say the truth isn’t nearly as exciting. I was simply… having a moment.”

“A moment,” I repeated dryly.

“I find solace in the moonlight.” Onyx’s expression, once amused, became pensive. Wistful. “As the world sleeps, it’s nice to stand outside and revel in the quiet. To reflect.”

“Reflect on what?”

A crease touched his brow. “Everything.”