Stacia Kane: Demon Possessed

How was she feeling? That was a good question. “Okay. Kind of achy everywhere. And a little loopy, maybe. But other than that, okay.”

He nodded. “So you did the ritual last night.”

“Yeah. I guess I did.”

“And . . . you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah.” She smiled a little. “I guess I am.”

Their eyes met for a second, but he blinked and started to sit up. “I talked to Winston this morning. He and Baylor showed up just after we left and took care of Gunnar. So we’re not sure who’s going to take over his House just at the moment. He asked us please to let him deal with Leora. I told him I’d have to talk to you about it.”

“What do you think?”

“I think we should let him. She’s just a child.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That’s so generous of you. I’m surprised.”

“You wound me. I’ve always been generous. In fact . . .”

He leaned over, giving her a lovely view of his bare back, the muscles stretching under the skin, and came back with a tiny wrapped package. “Here. Happy birthday.”

“Oh, shit, I—it is my birthday, isn’t it? I forgot.”

“Well, you have had rather a lot on your mind.”

“True.” She tore open the thick silvery paper to reveal a small velvet box. Her breath caught.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he said, but the smile didn’t quite make it. “Still want to say yes?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He flipped open the box. Her eyes felt as if they were going to fall out of her head. It wasn’t that it was a large diamond; it was, but not ridiculously so. It was just so . . . perfect. Just what she would have picked for herself.

“I’ve been carrying this damned thing around for a month and a half. How about you put it on now, so I don’t have to anymore?”

Her hand shook when she held it out to him. She was elated. She was terrified. And she loved him.

The ring slipped over her knuckle, rested perfectly at the base of her finger. She sat mesmerized for a moment, watching it sparkle, unable to believe this was really happening. Had really happened.

“I’ve been thinking about your job,” he said. “You know, there are a lot of demons who could use some counseling. Right at the Ieuranlier. There’s plenty of room; you could have your own office in one of the wings if you like. If you hate the idea, we can talk about it, but I thought . . .”

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t counseling humans in her own practice. But how much of that would she be able to do now that she was fully demon?

And she didn’t really feel any different. They’d been right about that, Roc and Greyson. She felt exactly the same. She’d just been afraid of change, afraid of moving forward.

It was time to stop being that way.

“I think it sounds great.”

“And the radio show, if you want to keep doing it, we can work something out. You can take the brothers with you when you go, maybe. I’d rather you not do it. But I’d rather have you, period.”

“You do have me,” she whispered. She couldn’t keep from looking at the ring, feeling its weight on her finger.

“I love you, you know. My little pilgrim soul. I really . . . I really love you, Meg.”

“Is that where bryaela came from? That poem?”

He nodded.

“I never guessed.”

“Yes, I was always rather surprised about that, but whatever. I suppose it’s not your fault if you don’t have my dazzling intellect.”

She stuck out her tongue.

He raised an eyebrow. “Now . . . I believe I can’t really see that ring very well. There seem to be all those clothes in the way. I think you should take some of them off, so I can get a good look. I spent a lot of time hunting for that ring, you know. I deserve to see it properly, don’t I?”

She giggled and slipped the strap of her nightgown off her shoulder; they’d played this game before. “How’s that?”

“Hmm. No, I think that makes it worse, actually. You’d better take that thing off entirely. It’s in my way.”

He reached for it, but she stopped him with her hands on either side of his face. “I love you.”

His expression changed; a flicker of relief, of happiness, and he was his smooth self again. “It’s a good thing you finally agreed to marry me, then, isn’t it?”

“I think so,” she replied, and slipped off the nightgown.

The rest of her life looked as though it would be awfully interesting. She couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

½ cup all-purpose flour

½ cup packed dark brown sugar (dark muscovado sugar is best; Megan gets hers at a gourmet grocery store)

¼ cup peanut butter

3 tablespoons butter or margarine (butter works better)

Stir together flour and brown sugar. Use a pastry blender to cut in the peanut butter and butter until mixture is damp and sticky, like wet breadcrumbs. Set aside.

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 cup packed dark brown sugar (again, muscovado preferred)

2 teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

¼ teaspoon salt plus another pinch or two

1 cup milk

½ cup peanut butter

¼ cup butter or margarine, softened

2 eggs, well beaten (this is a fairly stodgy cake; you want to introduce a lot of air into the eggs to get it really to rise)

2 tablespoons white sugar, approximately

In a large bowl, mix the cake ingredients. Beat these with a mixer on high speed for three minutes, scraping the bowl frequently.

Grease a 13-inch-by-9-inch-by-2-inch baking pan. Pour the mixture into it. Sprinkle topping mix over the top.

Bake at 375 degrees for about thirty minutes; test with a toothpick for doneness.

Don’t panic if it smells a little burned. It’s the sugar topping.

This cake is much better the second day. It’s good the first but excellent after it’s had a chance to sit (covered, of course) at least twenty-four hours.