She frowned at him, ire suddenly forgotten. Antoine had always told her the exact opposite.You’re impossible, Iris. How was I supposed to know you were upset? You never show any emotion, and you never say what you’re actually thinking. It’s like trying to communicate with a block of ice.
While outwardly, she’d pretended to enjoy being perceived as an impenetrable ice queen, a secret part of her had been disappointed. Hurt, even.
She wanted to be understood. She wanted so badly to reach out to someone, but her trust (and other) issues made it so she wasn’t willing to do so unless she knew without a doubt that the other person was already reaching toward her in return.
Antoine hadn’t cared enough to reach. He’d never cared about anyone except himself and his giant, unmerited ego. Meph, well, she wasn’t sure she knew him well enough yet, but time would tell if—
With a start, she stifled the thought. This thing with Meph was a physical arrangement only. There was no reaching out to each other. There was no forming bonds or exposing vulnerabilities. That was the entire reason she had begun this sordid affair in the first place.
FYI, I’m not like Ash or Mist. I’m not looking for a human woman to solve my problems and heal my wounded soul.
She hadn’t forgotten those sneered words for a second. His grimace when she’d asked about relationships had made it perfectly clear that the idea repulsed him.
Which was good. This was what she wanted. This was safe. She needed to focus on fixing her own shit before she even thought about another commitment, and when the time came for that, well, a half-reformed demon from Hell was the last person she should consider for the role of significant other.
Or maybe she’d just stay single forever. A spinster witch cat lady. Cat-and-hellhound lady, rather. Because who could forget she was now the proud parent of a dog that would grow to the size of a small horse?
The thought of Faust gave her the excuse she’d been looking for to migrate to the living room. It had nothing to do with Meph’s plans for carpet debauchery, of course. She simply needed to ensure her puppy wasn’t eating her new couch cushions.
Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately, depending on her current level of denial—said hellhound was in the living room where she’d left him, fast asleep on said rug, which made plans for said debauchery slightly awkward. He was still a pup; she didn’t want to traumatize him prematurely.
Iris dropped onto the couch with a sigh, resisting the urge to pet the hound’s soft fur. Or better yet, scoop him up and squeeze him until he wriggled to escape her crushing grasp. What was it with the urge to crush cute things? It was vaguely alarming the way she had to restrain herself from tightening her grip on his adorably soft, squishy little body that she just wanted tohug so hard—
She shook herself, focusing instead on the noises in the kitchen. Meph had lingered behind, banging around the fridge and cupboards, and he appeared a moment later with two glasses of wine, of all things. It wasn’t their usual beverage of choice.
She cocked an eyebrow when he held one out for her. “Wine?”
He wasn’t the wine-and-dine type. He never tried to woo her. He just showed up, shagged her within an inch of her life, overstayed his welcome just enough to annoy her, and then made up for it by giving her consecutive orgasms and filling her freezer with ice cream.
“I was feeling fancy,” he said, dropping onto the couch beside her. “Also, there was an open bottle in the fridge, so...” He shot her a mock-serious look. “Do not let Bel find out you keep red wine in the fridge. He’d burn your house down in a rage.”
Iris scoffed. “Don’t tell me he’s a wine snob on top of being a food snob, coffee snob, and pastry snob.”
“Safe to say, Bel is a snob.”
She laughed, settling back into the cushions and sipping the cold wine. Meph propped his feet on the table, and they watched Faust sleep in a strangely companionable silence.
Maybe it was the blasphemous fridge wine. Maybe it was the comfortable quiet. Maybe it was the fact that Meph was surprisingly easy to talk to and seemed to understand her in a way no one did besides Lily and Suyin. But she found herself bringing up his earlier statement, seeking further understanding.
“Do you really think I’m easy to read?” she asked.
“I told you, you’re an open book.” He smirked at her. He was so damn attractive when his lips curved up like that, she almost couldn’t follow the conversation. “Your cute little eyebrows jump all over the place when you’re thinking. I feel like if I just watch you, I can practically read your mind.”
She blushed and hid it by taking a sip of wine. Stupid Irish heritage giving her stupid pale skin that reddened far too easily. “Antoine always said I had no emotions.”
“Who the fuck is Antoine?” Did Meph stiffen? Did his voice sound deeper?
“My ex,” she said, deciding she was imagining things. “He was an asshole. But I thought he was right about that. I’ve never been good at... discussing things. I tend to just bottle everything up until my entire life implodes. Case in point, me not telling Lily the truth about how our parents died for years. Like I thought if I just didn’t mention it for long enough, it would go away.” She scoffed at her own stupidity. “Which makes no fucking sense.”
Meph shrugged. She liked that no matter how serious the topic, no matter how grievous the sin, he always seemed to brush it off like it was nothing. She supposed that for someone literally spawned in Hell, very little of human drama seemed overly catastrophic.
“Eh, I’d have probably done the same,” he said. “Or worse, honestly, knowing me. I don’t think you’re that bad. And your ex was obviously an idiot, because like I said, your thoughts are always written all over your face.”
She scoffed, but she was secretly pleased. She couldn’t quite say what it meant to know that he could read her, that she didn’t have to work so hard to communicate when communication was always her greatest struggle. That even if she tried to hide something from him, he’d probably figure out the truth anyway.
She was tired of hiding, but not quite brave enough to emerge by herself. She wanted someone to find her and drag her out, kicking and screaming.
The only person who had ever tried was Lily. Lily, whom Iris loved so fiercely it scared her. Lily, whom Iris had hurt worse than anyone in her life.
