The Struggles of Marrying a Demon {Completed}

Ringing it In

Mabel knew Aleron was stressed. She knew he was torn between being with her and trying to "train" Colby. It was for this reason that she wasn't surprised when she hadn't seen him for three days.

She was surprised, however, when, instead of Aleron, Colby suddenly appeared in her apartment, hovering over her shoulder like a creep (he was smiling evilly and everything). Spitting out her water and squealing with shock, Mabel fell off her chair with a loud thud.

"Oh, my God, Colby! Don't do that!"

Colby's eyebrows furrowed with confusion as he looked around, as though searching for a list of rules that actually mentioned something about You are not allowed to give Mabel a heart attack. "Isn't this what Aleron does?"

Pulling herself off the floor, Mabel sat back in her chair at the kitchen table with a hefty sigh. "No." She huffed. "Aleron always makes sure I know he's here in a less startling way. Also, he'd catch me if I fell."

Just the other day, he'd popped up with a quiet "Little One," and then spent thirty minutes apologizing because he'd scared her into dropping a plate and had felt so bad about it. She'd even convinced him to give her a full-body massage, though he probably would have complied regardless of whether or not he'd been apologizing.

Dismissing Mabel's irritation with a wave of his hand, Colby settled into the chair across from her own. "Speaking of your boyfriend, I thought you might like to know that he pisses me off."

Settling her elbows on the tabletop, Mabel scrutinized him carefully. "He feels the same about you."

"And how do you feel about me?" His voice was a sensual whisper as he leaned forward, his blue eyes burning with mischief, and Mabel shrunk back.

"You know I hate that!" she squeaked, her cheeks heating and fingers twisting the hem of her shirt nervously.

Colby released a hearty laugh, settling back in his seat. "Oh, Mabel. You are so precious. Unfortunately, I didn't come here just to mess with you."

"Really? And here I thought it pleased you." She knew she had worked her way into another one of his traps before he spoke—his wicked grin was indication enough.

"If you want," he crooned, ruffling his shaggy raven hair in what most women would probably consider an attractive manner, "I could show you exactly how to please me."

Slumping down, face in her hands, Mabel groaned in agony. "No, Colby," she whined, her voice muffled, "stooooop."

"Alright, alright, I give." He held his hands up in a sign of surrender, and then sobered swiftly. "But, seriously, I need to talk to you about something."

Patting her face as though it would help the color fade from her cheeks, she sucked in a steadying breath before gesturing for him to continue; part of her couldn't help but wonder when exactly she'd become a therapist for all her friends. Not that she minded, of course.

It was just . . . unexpected.

"What kind of something?"

"The kind of something that hides a serpent tail behind a hot ass and a killer set of legs."

Mabel slammed her head against the table, deciding that maybe she did mind being a pseudo-therapist. "If you want to talk about Zephyrine, please don't describe her like that."

"Descriptions aside, what are the rules surrounding Death getting it on with an attractive ala? I asked Aleron, and he growled something about controlling my urges, which is stupid, since I doubt he 'controls his urges' with you, and—"