Chương 67: Chapter 21: Eat, Drink, and Make Merry

Mercifully, clouds swept across the afternoon sky, painting Seaport in fast-moving, restful shadows. After the previous days, the oppressive mugginess was almost a welcome reprieve from the beating sun. But only almost. Instead of burning, it felt like boiling. Wynnie scratched together a light supper for our guests before the two of us peeked out from the windows at the street.

"Not a soul walking around out there," she said.

"There are a few."

"Sure, but do you think they're going to come in here for a drink and dinner?" Without air conditioning, it seemed unlikely. Even back on Earth, a sufficiently hot day used to cut our foot traffic down considerably. Summer nights rarely picked up until it was cooler out.

"Maybe we'll skip full meal service. If folks trickle in, I can open the bar for simple drinks."

"That's what I was thinking, too. Maybe, um, maybe I could handle things here while you take care of some other important things." She leaned an elbow on the open window and fixed me with a meaningful look.

"Think the Breakwater would suffer from a real late start?"

"Nope," I admitted.

"What do you have in mind?"

"The ice cream seems popular enough to make it a regular thing. Maybe not every day, but it's worth getting more cream, don't you think?" She drummed her fingers on the sill with a light rat-tat-tat. Before I could answer, she continued, "Have you thought about stopping in with Farmer Cal and Yvonne for a dinner date?"

"True and true," I said.

"And yes, I thought about it."

"And?"

"And I think it'd be fun. They seem nice, and I'm sure Shivai would love an official date."

"Good! Maybe you two can secure us some more cream. And the two of you can, you know… see how things feel between the two of you? No need to make any big decisions yet, but it wouldn't hurt to see." A gentle stream of air wended its way through the window, so humid that it felt like the breeze of a summer rainstorm. The usual crashing of waves came muted. Even the sea was too tired to expend its full energy. I thought about Wynnie's suggestion. Things were certainly coming to a head.

If whatever was brewing between me and Shivai was real, we needed to figure it out before the tension killed her.

"Alright. Kill two birds with one stone, then."

"Oh, please don't do that."

"It's a saying. Maybe the meaning doesn't translate. I've also heard feed two birds with one scone." She shrugged.

"Sounds like a waste of a good scone, but I think I get your meaning. Why don't you go tell Shivai? I'll take care of things here until you get back." She kissed me sweetly on the cheek, then slightly less sweetly on the lips. And then, as I turned to find the demonkin, Wynnie pinched me on the butt. Cheeky. Perhaps adding a third person to our relationship would keep things spicy I mused.

Mere minutes later, Wynnie shooed us off with an air of wistful excitement, like watching her children walk to class on the first day of school. I could just feel her protective, proud energy as she stood in the doorway, watching us off.

"Have fun!" she called out. Shivai just waved sheepishly, shrinking her shoulders as though drawing any more attention to herself would also draw attention to what she was doing: walking away with Wynnie's man. Meanwhile, my nerves jittered like I were taking my crush to prom. I kept telling myself that it wasn't a big deal—this was just Shivai. We'd been working closely together for a while already. Barely an interaction had passed without the succubus showering me in overt flirtation and innuendo.

Yet now, something felt different. Subtle, but tangible.

I didn't want to ask. Mostly because I already knew the answer. The lamb steaks on our plates probably used to have a name. If that wasn't clear just by the friendly, familiar way Farmer Cal's household ran, then it was more than obvious by the way both kids pushed their portions around on their plates. They wore glum, sorrowful expressions. It didn't take a genius to know they were eating a former friend. I didn't care, though. Their friend was delicious.

I'd always loved lamb chops, and Yvonne had done them justice. The chefs at The Good Inn could definitely take notes from her. Pink in the center with blood-red juices dripping out, spilling into the side of green beans and garlic-herb mashed potatoes. Oh, and the wine.

"Honestly, you guys might have the best food in town," I said around mouthfuls.

"I haven't had good cooking like this in… well, I guess it's been a lifetime." Shivai kicked me playfully under the table. For the pun, I think—I hadn't meant any shade to Wynnie. If smirks could be apologetic, that's what Shivai's looked like. The farmhouse was homey on the inside. A few too many knickknacks and decorations cluttered everything. Children's toys scattered across the floor, presenting a chaotic maze of well-loved tripping hazards. I almost expected to step on a Lego or two.

Yvonne tucked a strand of hair behind her floppy ear and smiled broadly.

"Cal loves a steak that's nearly raw. Sometimes I forget that guests prefer things cooked through."

"Not me! This is incredible. Everything is, really."

"It's super good," Shivai agreed, chewing loudly with her mouth open.

"Top-notch stuff." Yvonne leaned over and whispered something to her kids. I couldn't hear it, but if I had to guess, she was telling them not to grow up to be uncouth with poor table manners like Shivai. Or maybe that was just my inner monologue. Most of our conversation stayed surface-level and polite while we ate. It was all traders from the south this, crime in Northridge that, plus vague rumors about stirrings in the deeps.

Soon, it devolved into juicy gossip from the kids's school, which the rest of us gamely played along with in mock, wild-eyed interest. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The steady clinking of silverware on porcelain did most of the heavy lifting, though. The occasional slurp of wine punctuated throughout, and by the time the second bottle was open, I could feel the fuzzy edges of comfort make me cozy in the same way that Wynnie did when she smiled at me.

As the eating portion of dinner wound down, the mood shifted from casual to intimate. Cal and Yvonne exchanged apprehensive glances—the kind that typically signalled a wordless conversation. After a beat, Cal sighed.

"Okay, my turn, I guess." He set down his napkin. Yvonne mouthed, Thank you, then cleared her throat.

"Okay, kids! Time to go to bed!"

"Aw, Mom!"

"No! We want to finish our game first!" She pointed toward the living room, where any number of walking hazards could've been the game in question.

"You can finish it tomorrow. We'll leave it out for you, untouched," Yvonne assured them.

"Now, go on. If you're not in bed in fifteen minutes, we're putting away the game and you'll have to start it over tomorrow." Both kids began to protest, but Farmer Cal cleared his throat, said, "That's it, then," and rose as if to return their toys to the open chest in the living room right then. That shut them up.

"Well, since I'm already standing, I guess I'll tuck them in. Yvonne, do you want to entertain our guests while I put the knuckleheads to sleep?" Ten minutes later, our plates were cleared, leaving little more than a candle and the necessities on the table. Farmer Cal had just returned from putting the kids in their rooms, and the four of us sat comfortably around the table, seats pushed back, wine glasses half full in front of us. Another bottle sat nearby.

Yvonne eyed it and picked up her glass, swirling the last sips. I knew that look. She was preparing to finish hers so she could have an excuse to open the third. And now that I was a few deep, that's what I wanted, too. I'd started the night by telling myself that a single glass of wine would be fine, and then later that two wouldn't hurt. Now that I was on number four… well, you know how things go. Yvonne leaned in.

"So, tell me, then, Drew, you're with Wynnie?"

"I am." Even just the confirmation made me smile.

"So sorry for the confusion. We really thought that you and Shivai were an item." She took a few healthy sips of her wine and finished the glass." With the way you two steal glances at each other, and how she's constantly touching you, you can see how we might've gotten a different idea." Shivai showed off her best guilty smile.

"So, is this your first date, then?" At least that wasn't a question I needed to overthink anymore. Shivai had made her desires abundantly clear, and Wynnie had more than given her blessing. And despite a lifetime of conditioning back on Earth that painted this arrangement in a negative light, I was finally following my heart instead of my brain. I swirled the last of the wine in my glass and noted its deep, rich color. It reminded me a bit of a young Bordeaux blend, but with milder tannins.

The nose was heavy with fruit, and the palate lingered. It was pure indulgence, and I wanted to lean into that feeling completely.

"Yep. It's our first date," I said.

"How sweet. I hope it's going well," Yvonne started. But Shivai cut her off.

"This isn't our first date! By my account, it's our third!" My brows shot up of their own accord. Shivai straightened herself in her seat, as though her very posture were gearing up for debate.

"Our third?"

"We stayed up drinking that one night, remember? I… I kissed you on the cheek before you went to bed. That made it a date."

"It did?"

"Well, in my head, yeah. Retroactively. Whatever. I'm counting it."

"So this is our second date, then."

"Third! I also taught you knife stuff today." As if she needed to remind me. My palms were still blistered and sore from practice. It hadn't seemed romantic at all to me, but I guess not all dates have to be romantic. Still, it felt like she really, really wanted there to be some kind of history between us. I wasn't sure I wanted the same—the early stages of a relationship were magical, after all. Why rush them?

"You two already bicker like an old couple," chuckled Farmer Cal.

"Pretty soon, she'll ask you to tell a story, correct the way you're telling it several times, and then finish it for you." Yvonne laughed, but there was a tone of warning underneath it.

"Might as well open up this last bottle, hey?" she asked, brushing aside the playful dig.

"Definitely. We ate. We're drinking. Next step is to make merry, right?" Shivai's spaded tail curled up my back like a sensuous caress.

"What do you think, Drew? Are you ready to make merry to me?" Blood rushed to my cheeks. And elsewhere. I gulped. Our hosts looked similarly shocked, though not mortified. Which was a relief. I actually really liked them. They had a few years on us still, but they were close enough in age that they could be actual friends. I didn't want to scare them away with the lusty flirtations of a sex demon.

"Well, what do you say, Drew? You know what they say about third dates," said Farmer Cal, winking as he began uncorking the wine.

"Oh! Eat, drink, and be merry! Took me a second," Yvonne giggled.

"I'm ready to take things as they come," I said, hedging a little.

"Or do you want me to watch you and Wynnie make merry first?" Shivai licked her lips. Her smile was gone, replaced by a luscious, heated expression.

"Maybe it would help if she marked her territory. Keep me in my place." More blood rushed. So much blood. It was a wonder I didn't pass out then and there. Cal and Yvonne barely batted an eye. They'd been drinking, too, and their kids proved they more than understood the concept of sex. I buried my blushing face in my glass and drained it.

The slender fingers of Shivai's purple hand slid effortlessly into mine as we wove our way home. We carried only a small jug of cream in a pack slung over my back. The rest would follow by donkey in the wee hours of the morning, they assured us. For the moment, we got to enjoy a walk together unburdened by the sloshing weight of work. Moonlight illuminated the pathways, but we still stumbled occasionally as our feet struggled with the debuff of drunkenness. She giggled every time I lost my balance.

When she lost hers, she giggled harder and hugged me close for stability. With her body pressed up against mine, somehow both slender and squishy at once, I could make out details I usually couldn't in the light of day. Her scent, usually light and floral, carried a brisk undertone of brimstone and musk. Her breath hit my chest hot, like a lick of untamed flame. She felt small in my arms, probably no more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. And every time she hugged onto me, she let out a contented purr.

"I meant what I said, you know? Back there, I mean."

"About what?"

"I want you to make merry to me." The clouds rolled past the moon overhead, casting us in darkness. It felt private, as though whatever happened in the umbral light didn't actually count. Nobody could see. Nobody could know. Old Drew, drunk Drew back on Earth, might have taken the invitation for what it was. After all, Wynnie had given me a general go-ahead. Whatever it was—a green light, a hall pass—I knew that she was okay with whatever came next with Shivai. But she'd never said that explicitly.

And here, I was different. Not impulsive. More careful. Better. And as Shivai clung to him tightly, even with a full bottle of wine in his belly, he knew what to do.

"I want to, Shivai. But I needed to make sure that Wynnie was okay with this. And I mean actually okay." Shivai whined, wrapping herself around me so tight that it felt like I was dragging her back to the inn. Her tail coiled around me possessively.

"I know. I know. And that's why I want you so bad. You're a good man, and you have people's best interests at heart." She rested her head on my chest.

"But I want you to know, I meant all of it before. Not just the part for me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you're okay with it—if she's okay with it—maybe I could watch." My mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. My head was too filled with ideas. A jumble of chaotic pictures sprang to mind. Something else sprang up, too. Shivai finally climbed off me, walking on her own strength again. Her hand still rested ensconced in mine.

"And maybe, if it's okay, I could join in. When she's ready. Or when you are." It came out as a whisper. Like a child's wish offered to the first star in the night sky.

"But you? You're ready?" I asked.

"Succubi feel emotion fast, and strong, too," she reminded me.

"When you're just interested, we're infatuated. When you have but a crush, we're already deeply in love." I was interested. I did have a crush. It was almost as though she could read my mind. Or my heart. I squeezed her hand. It was hotter by degrees than anyone else's I'd ever felt. A demonkin thing, most likely. Her infernal legacy made manifest in the flesh. She and Wynnie were fire and ice. A potent combination, to be sure.

And I knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I wanted to experience them at the same time. But what did Wynnie want?