Page 103 of Demon's Beauty

Content enough to demon-watch and take it all in, I enjoy the feeling of just being together, fingers entwined, like this is any normal night. This is just a normal date with a normal guy—okay, demon—and I don’t have to think about any of the rest.

It’s not, though, and when Finn speaks again, the illusion fades.

“I’m sorry, if my family was a lot to handle.”

I give his hand a squeeze. “They weren’t. They’re lovely, Finn.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “What did you and ma talk about when you stepped out onto the terrace?”

“A bit more about me, about us. About you.”

“Really?” He shoots me a look.

“Good things only. She obviously cares about you and wants the best for you.”

He hums, but doesn’t offer any further comment or questions as we continue on down the boardwalk. The rows of shops gradually give way to more natural terrain, the walkway lit with oil-burning streetlamps and dotted with other couples out for their own evening strolls.

We stop under one of the lamps and lean against the railing. Below, waves break against the rocky shore. Salt spray reaches us on the night breeze, dampening the fabric of my dress and curling the ends of my hair.

I glance over at Finn, and there’s still something tight about his features. His gaze is far away, eyes unfocused, and it tugs at my heartstrings, loosens my tongue. Though it might not be the time to bring it up, I can’t stop myself from speaking.

“Your mom also told me about your dad.”

Finn’s face goes blank. “Did she?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did she have to say?”

I reach up and idly smooth back an errant blond curl. “That he’s an ass and you’re too good for him.”

He barks a startled laugh. “I can’t imagine those words in my mother’s mouth.”

“I might be paraphrasing. Is that not the truth, though?”

With a long sigh, Finn wraps his arms around me. He pulls me close and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“It’s not entirely inaccurate.”

We fall into another silence, and I turn an idea over in my mind, one that’s been gnawing at me since Lynore talked to me about Lord Nightfall.

“I guess the two of us really aren’t so different, are we?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” I begin, thinking of how I want to phrase it. “We’ve both got people who expect things from us. Lives and roles we were born into, and now we just have to deal with.”

He nods. “I suppose that’s true.”

“It seems like it’s not something you want, though? Living life like he wants you to live it?”

“It’s not,” he says solemnly.

For a little while, we’re both silent again.

Staring at the sea.

Letting the questions swirl around us.