Chapter Six
At noon the following day, Val strode up the steps and across the porch. He didn’t knock, but let himself into the old house as if he belonged there.
Abra
was seated at the table with glasses of water already poured and waiting.
“You’re sure about this—about me?” he asked, one eyebrow rising.
“No. Nothing is ever a sure thing. That, I’m sure of.”
He snorted out a half laugh and pulled out a chair. Scooting in, he eyed her. “And let’s say if I were to stay, what would we do here on this little farm of yours?” He waved one hand in the air, indicating everything around them. “Besides work, since it seems like that’s all you ever do when I’m not around.”
Abra
looked at the glass in front of him. A dribble of moisture snaked down the side, shiny and wet. “I suppose we’ll fuck like rabbits when we’re not working.”
He grinned.
“We?
Working? I’m not that kind of demon, and you know it.”
“I’m not so sure you’re all demon now.” She reached across the distance between them and pushed a lock of hair from his brow. His skin was so warm, his face, his body, tempting. But something was different about him, about the temperature in the room. The heat of midday had gone, and it was a cool November afternoon. Nothing felt stifling. She had her thoughts, her voice. The drive to have wild, bestial sex was still there, but muted.
“Maybe.
Maybe not.”
He leaned into her touch until she cupped his cheek. “Maybe I could do a
little
work around here, to pass the time.”
She snorted out a laugh. “If you want to stay you’ll have to earn your keep.”
He grinned and it was slightly sinister, although nothing like the thing in her painting. “I suppose it’s a bargain, although I think you’re getting the better end of the deal.
A man to satisfy you at your whim when he’s not toiling on this Godforsaken flat piece of land.
It could be worse.”
“Could it?”
Val nodded. He glanced around the kitchen and then back to
Abra
.
“Yeah, much worse than this.”
He nodded and his expression turned grim. “I’ve been in Hell a long time. In case I forget to tell you later on down the line, thanks for getting me a second chance.”
Abra
frowned. She hadn’t really thought of him as a prisoner. He’d seemed willing enough to do his job of tormenting her. “You’re welcome,” she said softly. “And thanks for making me
be
a little lazy. I guess everyone needs a break sometimes.
Even a demon.”
* * * *
The art connoisseurs ambled around the wide show room, wine goblets in their hands and awe in their eyes. The canvas
Abra
stood by towered over all the smaller works, a vibrant melding of paint and pastel, darkness and light…good and evil. She gave the angel an appraising glance and wondered how many of those onlookers gathered around it really saw the demon within. It was tricky so see the subtle differences, the way the angel’s shadow went askew and showed a different shape bearing fangs and gnarled claws. There were other hints, slight things only those staring long enough might guess at. Life was like that. Good at first glance but capable of hiding more if one didn’t look close enough.
After signing another autograph, she caught sight of her lover across the room. Val winked. He snatched a full goblet from a passing tray and drank it back as if it were the lemonade she’d offered that first day. It seemed so long ago, something of dreams since past and faded.
He wore slacks and a black button-up shirt that showed off his tan and dark hair to perfection. His gait belied what he used to be and some part of what he still was. Courteous but impatient, he stopped at the edge of the crowd, one foot tapping.
“Excuse me,”
Abra
muttered and hurried to his side.
His hand fit perfectly in hers, firm and work-worn. Someone had to tend to the farm, to the fields of wheat and barley. She thought he liked it—the work, and she knew he enjoyed the lazy lovemaking thereafter. They wove through the crowd to be alone…with each other.
The End
About The Noonday Demon
This novella was written to be included in a set of stories based on the seven cardinal sins, this story being inspired by
accidie
, better known as the noonday demon of laziness. Unfortunately, the other authors in our group either did not finish their tales or found homes for their stories on their own. A collection was not to be. Like many of my earlier works, it did not originally have a happy ending.
Abra
succumbed to the sin and the demon. In the rewriting of the tale, I sought balance between hard work and laziness, good and evil. I also hoped to give the demon a happily ever after.
About the Author
Anastasia
Rabiyah
writes erotic romance, paranormal erotic romance, and fantasy. She often crosses genres in order to follow her muses into the darkness where they seek out destiny in all its forms. She believes in fairies, demons, angels, magic, passion, chocolate, supportive friends, e-books and writing critique groups. Her deepest desire is to pursue her creative dreams and realize them. Every spare moment she devotes to writing for her haunting muses.
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