Neon Blue by E Frost (best big ereader .TXT) 📕

Next time? “You’re, uh, you’re not planning to get me drunk every time—”

He looks down into my face and there’s such sadness in those dark eyes that my breath catches. “Yeah, I am.”

I blink against a hot scratchiness and a tear rolls hot down my cheek before I even know I’m crying.

He leans in and licks the tear away. “Shh.”

“I—”

“Shh, sweet meat.” He presses his open mouth against my forehead. Breathes heavily against my skin. “Let’s go take a bath. You stink.”

“Oh, thanks,” I choke.

“C’mon.” He takes my hand. “Leave Iz down here. He’s too young to watch.” He laughs a ghost of his wicked chuckle.

I reach up and put the salamander on top of the fridge, expecting him to curl up into his usual torpid ball. Instead, he jumps onto the counter and then down to the floor. With an ungainly waddle, he scoots over to the kitchen table and begins batting at the blobs of melted plastic hanging off the edge of the table.

I squeeze my eyes shut against the ruin of my kitchen as the demon leads me upstairs.

In the bathroom, he sits me down on the closed toilet while he turns on the taps. When he goes to put the tub’s stopper in, I say, “I’m okay with a shower, really.”

“You don’t want a bath?” He rolls his shoulders like he’s sore. “I could use a soak.”

“I thought you didn’t like, you know, being immersed in water.”

“Gettin’ in your tub’s not gonna do me any harm.” He puts the stopper in. “You got any bubbles?”

I nod and retrieve my very small selection of bubble bath from the linen closet. He takes a Crabtree and Evelyn bottle that Linnie got me for my birthday and dumps half of it in the water. The sweet scent of lavender fills the bathroom.

I inhale, and smile. Lavender is one of those scents that immediately makes me feel better, no matter what’s going on.

The demon strips off his pajama bottoms and steps into the bath. Steam billows up, dotting his golden skin with moisture. I can’t help but stare.

He chuckles. “Glad you still like what you see. C’mere.”

I shed my robe and slippers and climb in after him. I’m not really a bath person. I always feel in danger of slipping and ending up on my butt while I’m getting in, and there’s that old childhood fear of going down the drain. The demon doesn’t seem to share any of my concerns. He sits down easily and draws me into his lap. It should be awkward, but it’s not. He positions me until I’m cupped by his chest and hips. I relax back against him, sinking into the hot water and bubbles. My eyes slowly close.

“This is nice,” I whisper.

“Yeah, not bad.” His chest flexes under me as he reaches for something, then the gentle scratchiness of a bath puff slides along my thighs. “It’s not quite the pools of the Styx, but it’ll do.”

It’s the first time he’s mentioned where he comes from without me asking. “Are you . . . homesick?”

“Homesick?” He’s silent for a moment, then he chuckles. “No, I’m not homesick. The only thing waitin’ for me back home is a fuckload of trouble.”

“Why?”

He sighs and strokes the puff over my knees. “No reason.”

I twist around to look up into his face. “Jou, please? I can tell something’s wrong. I’m not an idiot. Maybe I can help.”

He kisses my forehead. “You can’t.”

“How do you know? Maybe I could, if you’d just tell me what’s going on.”

He stops washing me, puts his arms around me and hugs me, slippery-tight. “You’re the softest little thing—”

“You keep saying that, and I’m not sure if you think it’s good or bad.”

“It’s . . . surprisin’. I think you’d take on the old man if you thought it would help.”

“Is he what’s wrong?” Because I’m definitely not taking him on. Not for anything.

“Yeah.” He strokes my hair, soap bubbles crackling. “I’ve never been one of his favorites. An’ his bitch queen’s been poisonin’ him against anyone born to my dame for a millennium. But he’s mostly ignored me, and I’ve mostly returned the favor. Today I asked for somethin’. Somethin’ he shoulda granted me without thinkin’ twice. Instead he took it as a challenge.”

“A challenge?”

“Schizoid fuck sees conspiracies everywhere.”

“You don’t sound like you like your father very much.”

His dark chuckle vibrates up my back, through the lavender-scented air. “Nope. I’d be fine with someone taking him down. Ain’t gonna be me, though. I got better things to do.”

I rub my hands up and down his knees, rising out of the pearly bubbles on either side of me. “He threatened you—”

“Yeah, he always does that. Havin’ a conversation with him’s like tryin’ to talk to a scorpion. Fuckin’ thing just keeps trying to sting you.”

I have to laugh at that. “Not exactly the paternal type.”

“That an’ his thing for eatin’ his get.”

“Charming. What did you ask him for?”

“Mmm, nothin’. You heard him. It ain’t gonna happen. I’ll have to figure out somethin’ else.”

The faintest thread of cigarette smoke sliding through the lavender-scented air warns me of my uncle’s appearance just before his ghost unrolls to perch on the toilet. “Lying beng,” the Billigoat spits.

Jou shifts, draping one arm across my breasts. His other hand slides between my legs to cover my groin. “This one of yours?”

I nod against his shoulder. Bemused by the Billigoat’s appearance and the demon’s reaction. “My uncle. Harman Faa.”

“And I know your name, beng!”

“Using it’ll get you a one-way ticket to the Flaming Tombs, so watch your mouth,” Jou growls, but his growl is laced with amusement. I don’t think he sees my uncle’s ghost as much of a threat. Particularly not after facing off against his father.

My uncle puffs furiously on his cigarette. “If you don’t tell her the truth, we will.”

“She knows I want her soul. I haven’t made any secret of that.”

“But not that you plot with your master to make her one of you!”

I glance up at Jou. His