Jade could only stare.
Her mind kept trying to file what she'd seen into something sensible, something that belonged in the same universe as spaghetti and cheap beer and torn clothing. But all she had was the image of shadows swallowing light, wings unfurling in her living room, and Aamon sitting back down like he'd just shown her a coin trick.
Aamon returned to picking at his dinner as if the night hadn't taken a hard left into insanity. Jade's stare didn't fade, and his patience didn't last.
With a sharp huff, he set his fork down and leaned back in his chair. "I know you have questions," he said flatly. "So ask."
Jade's mouth opened. Nothing came out. Exhaustion and alcohol. That had to be it. Her brain was patching together nonsense because it had run out of fuel.
"I think," she managed, voice thin, "I'd like to go to bed now."
She pushed back from the table like the chair might bite her and started for her bedroom on unsteady legs. At the door, she paused, still trying to convince herself she'd wake up at her desk with drool on her notes and a tyrant boss yelling in her ear.
"Yes. I'm probably dreaming anyway," she muttered, more to herself than him. "In the morning this will just be… a weird dream."
Then she shut the door and left him alone.
Aamon watched her disappear with a faint crease in his brow. Most mortals screamed. Most demanded answers. Most begged, cried, prayed, or fainted.
Jade did none of those things.
Maybe showing his true form had been too much. Not for her safety, but for his own curiosity, because now he couldn't stop thinking about her reaction. He exhaled slowly, the humor of the night draining away as the quiet returned.
He needed to find his partner.
He glanced at Jade's door, half-expecting it to fly open with a panicked, babbling scientist demanding equations for Hell. But the apartment stayed still. Aamon clicked his tongue in annoyance. If she was still this dumbfounded in the morning he would have to reset her memory. No harm, no foul. This entire evening would be forgotten.
On the other side of the door, Jade didn't bother cleaning up. She crawled into bed fully dressed, pulled the covers over her head, and tried to press her thoughts into darkness. This was a dream. It had to be. She pictured herself slumped at her office desk, head on her arm, the lab's silence wrapped around her like a blanket. In the morning, her boss's scolding would be a relief. Normal. Familiar. Her eyes burned. Her head throbbed. Her thoughts kept looping until the loops blurred. Eventually, sleep took her.
Her dreams came in fractured flashes: Aamon's ember-red eyes in the dark, the way shadows moved like they listened to him, the way he'd stood between her and danger without hesitation. In every half-formed scene, she wasn't afraid of him. Her dreaming mind searched for him.
In the living room, Aamon grew bored and stretched out on the sofa. It was cramped, but it would do. If the man Jade had freed was who he was looking for, he needed to stay close to her until Zeth resurfaced. Then the memory wipe would be easy.
And yet…
He stared at the ceiling, the corner of his mouth lifting. Jade had been entertaining. Frustratingly odd, but entertaining.
"Looks like you stumbled onto an interesting mortal for once," he murmured into the empty room. Aamon didn't need sleep, not truly. But there was nothing else to do, and pretending to rest made time pass faster. He closed his eyes.
Jade woke to her alarm like it had punched her straight in the chest. She slammed a heavy fist onto the clock until it died, then sat up too fast, heart hammering. The memory of last night hit her in one brutal wave.
She swallowed hard, stared at her hands, then reached for her phone with fingers that felt too slow. A reply from her boss blinked back at her. The message she'd sent in the middle of the night was real.
Her stomach dropped. She looked down. Her shirt collar was torn, the top buttons missing. Her skirt was ripped and grimy, stained with the street like proof.
"It wasn't a dream," she whispered, voice rough.
She dragged a hand through her hair, trying to force her mind into order. If Aamon was real… then so was everything he'd said.
She glanced at her bedroom door. It was shut. And she hadn't locked it. A cold thought pressed in: If he was a demon… wouldn't he have done something while I slept?
Jade pressed her fingertips to her temples until it hurt. "Don't be daft," she muttered. "He said demon. Not vampire."
The logic didn't make her feel better, but it gave her something to hold onto. She needed a shower. Hot water. Steam. Something physical to drown out the impossible. Luckily, the bathroom was attached to her room. She didn't have to step out and face him yet.
Under the water, Jade let her thoughts spiral anyway.
He saved me.
He isn't a government agent.
He could've killed me in my sleep, but I'm still alive.
So… demon, but not—what? Not dangerous? Not evil?
Where do you even go from that?
The water cooled before her thoughts did. She shut it off with a heavy sigh and wrapped herself in a towel, staring blankly at her reflection like it might answer her.
Demon but not a bad guy.
That phrase tasted ridiculous in her head. But the alternative was worse, because if he was dangerous, then she'd been trapped from the moment he decided to follow her home. Jade dressed slowly, still arguing with herself in quiet bursts.
"If demons are bad," Jade questioned her reflection. "Then why did he save me?"
She rubbed her face with both hands like she could scrub the confusion off her skin. "What do you call a demon that saves you?"
Her eyes drifted to her own reflection again. Her expression looked… tired. Not frightened. Not panicked. Just tired.
"A friend?" she tried, hesitant.
Friends came when you were in trouble. Friends didn't hurt you while you slept. Friends sleep over.
The thought made her chest tighten, and she hated that it did.
If he wanted to harm her, he could have. If he wanted something from her, he could have taken it. He'd mentioned favors, sure, but hadn't dinner counted?
If he was still here… Maybe he just… enjoyed her company. The idea made her feel insane. But it also made the world feel a fraction less lonely. She took a slow breath, set her hand on the doorknob, and tried to steel herself. "Okay," she whispered. "I guess I have a demon for a friend now."
On the other side of the door, Aamon smiled.
"Friend," he murmured to himself, amused. "Huh."
He'd met plenty of mortals. Most begged for deals. Most came crawling for favors. Most feared him with the kind of reverence that made them easy to control. Jade had decided to… befriend him. Strange little creature. He didn't hate the idea.
Jade eased her door open and tiptoed out like she was approaching a wild animal. Aamon's legs hung off the end of her tiny sofa. He looked almost peaceful, eyes shut, suit rumpled from sleeping on something made for someone half his size.
Jade stared. Then squeezed her eyes shut, rubbed her face, and opened them again. He was still there. She exhaled shakily and crept around the couch, careful not to make the floorboards betray her.
"Aa… Aamon?" she whispered.
In her mind, she pictured him waking up angry, the room filling with smoke and shadows, her apartment bursting into flames. She was so lost in the fear of what could happen, she didn't notice him open his eyes until the moment she felt his gaze on her. Jade froze. Aamon's mouth curved into something warm and wicked all at once. For the first time in clear morning light, Jade really saw him.
His skin was pale, porcelain-smooth. His jet-black hair fell messily across his forehead, and his suit made him look like a funeral director who'd wandered into the wrong life. Those ember eyes… they didn't just look red. They looked lit from within, like coals when you breathed on them.
He was terrifying. And, infuriatingly handsome. Jade felt heat rush into her face and immediately hated herself for it.
Aamon sat up, stretching like he'd slept wonderfully instead of on a sofa made of springs and regret. In the blink of an eye, he was beside her, leaning in close enough that his voice brushed her ear.
"Did you dream about me?"
Jade yelped, scrambled backward, caught her foot on a chair leg, and went down, hard. She curled into herself on instinct, knees to chest, peeking through her fingers like a child.
"What—why would you—why would you ask that?" she stammered.
Aamon crouched, studying her like she was a puzzle he'd found in the trash and decided was fun anyway. "Because most mortals who see my true form have nightmares," he said simply. "So… did you—"
"NOPE!" Jade shouted, cutting him off. She scooting away so fast she nearly hit the counter. "No nightmares. None. Not a single one. Ha-ha. You're not scary at all." Jade stood now, and pressed herself into the corner of the counter. Aamon rose slowly and walked toward her with deliberate calm, the kind that made her pulse spike. Jade's eyes flicked rapidly about the room, looking for escape but there was nowhere left to go.
"Oh?" he asked, closing the distance. "Really. Then tell me what is scary."
Aamon planted his hands on the counter on either side of her, caging her in without touching her. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing with genuine curiosity. Jade's heart tried to claw its way out of her throat.
"People don't like to talk about their fears," she whispered, because it was the only sentence her brain could assemble.
Aamon held her there, eyes locked for too long. Finally, a small twitch on his lips and he straitened. He stepped back, casually breaking the tension like he'd never created it.
"All right," he said, like a bored gentleman. "I won't press the matter any further." His eyes flicked over her face. "Friend." He said the word with a smirk on his lips. He said the word with emphasis, like he was testing how it sounded. Then he sat on the arm of the sofa, arms crossed, completely at ease.
"So," he asked lightly, completely changing the topic, "what are your plans for the day?"
Jade's eye twitched. Did he not understand what he was doing to her? Or did he understand perfectly and enjoy it? Was he flirting? Or threatening? Jade could not make sense of it at all and her mind felt like it was going to fracture again.
"I… uh…" She cleared her throat, forcing her spine straight. "I have work." The words came out, but her body didn't move. The slow realization hit her of a new problem: telling the demon shadow guy to leave her apartment. How did you ask a demon to leave without losing your head? If she went to work, he'd have to leave. He wouldn't stay here alone, would he?
Aamon watched her blank stare with open impatience, as if he could see her thoughts buffering. Then he stood and, like it was the most normal suggestion in the world, said, "How about we get coffee on the way?"
"On the way?" Jade echoed, her words hallow. She was still trying to process everything that had just happened.
Aamon picked up her purse, opened the door, and held it for her. "Yes."
Her mouth fell open. "As in… you're coming with me?"
"Yup." Aamon said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
Jade hesitated. "You mean, you're… walking me to work?"
Aamon smiled as she passed, maddeningly friendly. "No, curious kitty. I'm going to work with you. Literally."
Jade stumbled to a stop outside her apartment, staring as he pulled her keys from her purse and locked the door. Then he headed down the stairs like he belonged there. Jade hurried after him, panic and disbelief tangling together. "Do you remember where I work?" she called down. "They won't let you in. You don't have clearance."
Aamon looked back, amused. "Did you forget what I am?" He winked.
Jade shuddered. The wink froze her mid step. She couldn't decide what was worse: the fact that he was a demon, or the fact that a demon had just winked at her. She shook the mind fog and hurried to catch up with him. He said nothing, just kept moving, like the entire city was his and she was merely escorting him through it.
She stole sideways glances at him and, against her will, pictured them as anyone else might see them. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a clean crisp black suit. She was five feet of exhausted scientist with torn clothes and a headache.
The absurdity hit her, and a soft laugh escaped. Aamon's gaze flicked down. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," Jade said too quickly, waving him off.
He didn't let it go. "Must be some guy at work," he teased. "Can't wait to see him, huh?"
Jade stopped short, then glared up at him. "What? Ew. No. Ugh. Don't be ridiculous."
She walked faster, trying to put distance between them.
Aamon closed the gap effortlessly, then turned and walked backward so he could study her face. "Your face is red," he observed. "You did that earlier too. Do all mortals do that when they're angry?"
He leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing with interest.
"Or does that happen when you think about someone you like?"
Jade's skin went hot all over again. "Stop that." She waved her hands in his face, as if shooing away a fly. Aamon's smile widened. He looked delighted, like he'd just discovered a button and decided to press it until it broke. He'd never bothered with humans before, only speaking to them when they begged him for favors or to spare their lives. Jade was showing him a new side to humans, and it tickled him in a way he could not explain.
He spent the walk pestering her with the same question in a dozen different ways, letting her put distance between them only to appear at her side again like he could teleport. Every time he got too close or mentioned her love life, she jumped and flushed, and Aamon treated it like a sport.
By the time they reached the coffee shop, Jade's eyes were bright with frustration.
"Why are you in denial about love?" Aamon pressed again, testing the level of red her skin could turn. "I'm sure a cute girl like you have at least one person waiting for you."
She turned on her heel, hands clenched at her sides, and glared up at him with all the fury she'd been saving for tyrants and trauma and the universe itself. Something about the way he had phrased that last statement hit a nerve deep inside. The idea of having someone waiting was a pipe dream. Something that was never meant for her and knowing that hurt.
"Look," she snapped, voice shaking, "the day I have someone waiting for me is the day that someone is you!"
Silence expanded between them. Aamon blinked, genuinely baffled. Jade's stomach dropped as she realized exactly what she'd said. She cursed under her breath and shoved past him into the shop before he could respond.
Inside, she pressed a hand to her chest, breathing hard. Why was he so insistant? It'd been almost 30 minutes of nonstop taunting over something that wasn't even true. Something that would never be true. So why did he care so much?
Jade ordered two coffees, in a robotic auto piolet way, she added sugar, and stirred until her hands stopped shaking, before walking back outside. Aamon was still there, watching her like he was trying to figure out whether she was brave, broken, or both. She thrust one cup into his hand and started walking again toward work. This time, he didn't tease her. This time, they were both silent.
Jade prayed her outburst was strange enough that he'd never mention it again. She had no idea Aamon's silence had nothing to do with her comment at all, and everything to do with the thought of finding his missing partner.