Page 37 of Sweet Surrender
Knight tapped his lips when they were done eating and he’d magicked their dishes clean. Saint rolled his eyes, but dutifully puckered his lips, tilting his head up for a good morning kiss.
The soft press of his mouth opened that pool of heat in Saint’s lower belly, making it flood his entire body.
“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Knight murmured against his mouth.
Saint pecked him again, smirking and refusing to respond to that.
On the walk to his shift, Saint kept glancing at Knight from the corner of his eye, fondness blooming as Knight eagerly took in the sights and sounds, even though they’d strolled around the quarter before they’d had brunch with Teresa yesterday; something to do just to get out of the flat and stretch their legs. One would think he was seeing it all for the first time.
What the fuck are you doing?
It wasn’t the first time Saint had asked himself that question.
Since Saturday, he only found himself falling harder—flying higher with every moment he and Knight spent together. The book clutched in Knight’s hand was a romance book, because when Saint had teased to Teresa how much Knight apparently loved romances, his best friend had literally pulled the book she’d been reading from her bag and handed it over, ignoring Knight’s protests.
“The author literally gave me that herself, but don’t worry, I’ve got a contact! I’m sure I can get more copies.” She’d suddenlygrinned, her pretty eyes wide. “Wait! We can have our own three-person book club!” Saint knew she ran an account online where she talked all things bookish, and that she’d always been thinking about starting a book club, in her own words, forforever.
Knight had told Saint he could use magic to multiply the copy he had, and Saint had lied to Teresa that there was a small second-hand bookshop in his neighbourhood, and he’d managed to snag a copy for himself.
“That’s what’s up!” Teresa had texted back, “Because my contact only had one copy left! God works in mysterious ways, eh?”
Saint had laughed, and now they were in a fucking book club.
What the fuck are you doing?
As they approached the school, Saint felt shy for some reason. It felt like his boyfriend was dropping him off at work, which made his subconscious practically scream,WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?
“I’ll see you in a bit,” he whispered, trying to be inconspicuous because Samuel was already in the gatehouse.
“Don’t miss me too much,” Knight said with a wink, stealing Teresa’s parting line.
“Go away,” Saint hissed. When Knight laughed, Saint felt like he’d accomplished something monumental.
He went through the day in a mild daze. Weekends had always been long to him considering he was basically a hermit and never interacted with anyone or anything apart from when he went out to feed and play fetch with his—thedog, or whenhe decided to go to Chiamaka Amala Point to eat. But this past weekend had felt long in the best possible way, while simultaneously feeling like the shortest weekend of his life.
As closing time approached, he couldn’t help but think of his stalker, his heart pounding.
The first time, six months after he’d left home, they’d stalked him over the course of six months before Saint had thought it prudent to move. The second time, barely three months after the first, they’d done it over the course of two. The third time, merely amonthafter the last, they’d done it only once before Saint had immediately run.
Each time, they’d spread their visits and their threats about two weeks apart. The first instance was usually something innocuous, like a flyer about a random church offering a “deliverance” service taped to his door, or a message from an unsaved number on his phone, citing the scripture of a Bible verse.
The next was always something more obvious; eyes following him in a crowd, or someone walking behind him in the same direction while he walked home.
This time, they’d gone straight to the terror with a stalkerandthe bloody chicken head they’d taped to his door. He couldn’t help thinking—if his stalkers had decided to go right for the jugular without any buildup, they probably weren’t interested in simply scaring him anymore.
And if they weren’t interested in simply scaring him, then they were going to make a more drastic move, and soon. If Knight hadn’t been here, Saint would have cut his losses and moved, damn whatever depressed feelings he might have about it. His safety always came first, and staying alive, no matter how downtrodden he felt, felt like a fuck you.
But Knight was here. And if they were going to make their move soon, it meant Knight would be completing his end of their bargain equally as soon.
Which meant their time together might have a much closer deadline than Saint wanted. Never mind that Saint didn’t even knowwhathe wanted.
Fucking? Dating? A mix of the two? And then what? Knight had his community back in Hell, probably missing him as he was away right now. And despite Saint’s romantic inclinations, he couldn’t assume demons were monogamous. Perhaps Knight had a lover or two back in Hell eagerly waiting for his return. The thought made Saint’s stomach feel sour.
Mrs. Efezino wasn’t late today, at least. When Voke turned to look searchingly around as her mother led her toward her parked car, Saint saw the moment she must’ve spotted Knight perched on the roof of the gatehouse.
She jumped slightly, going pale and terrified—Knight was in his usual skin, after all—but then she waved with her free hand, stifling a giggle into her palm. Brave,obviouslittle thing.
She made a shushing motion with her finger while nodding, which made Saint picture Knight suddenly, vividly. He must’ve been making the motion to her, his lips probably curved into a teasing smirk.
