A Demon's Guide to Wooing a Witch (Glimmer Falls #2)

by Sarah Hawley

“Being strong doesn’t mean winning every battle. Sometimes it means surviving to fight again.”

“I’m sorry that bastard hurt you. Is he still alive?” That didn’t sound enough like a joke for her comfort. “You’re not allowed to murder him.” Astaroth pouted. “Why not?” Ridiculous demon. “Because we’re working on your redemption arc.” He sighed dramatically. “Redemption sounds boring.”

She swallowed, feeling the giddy lure of the cliff edge. This time, she jumped. “I want this,” she said. “I want you.” The grin that lit up Astaroth’s face was a wonder to behold. “Then take whatever you want. It’s yours.”

“You really leaned into the British thing, didn’t you? You probably have a collection of rare tea bags.” The horror! “I would never steep tea from a bag. Loose leaf is superior in every way.” “You probably have a kettle, too.” Calladia smirked over the rim of her mug. “Of course I do.” Both an electric kettle and an old-fashioned ceramic teapot. His forehead furrowed. “Wait, do you not?” Calladia raised her mug in a toast. “Microwave, baby.” “No!” Astaroth was appalled. “That’s a crime against gastronomy.” “What can I say? I like to live on the edge.”

“I have a safe full of gold doubloons,” he offered. “Doubloons?” Calladia asked incredulously. “Who are you, Blackbeard?” “No, but I did enjoy a brief stint in piracy.” Talk about a group that understood the importance of branding. From their flags to their wildly original methods of execution, pirates had nailed the creative brief.

“She’s off-limits,” he snapped, standing as well. Calladia shot him a damning look. “So are other people. You do not get to hop off the redemption train just to get on the murder train.” That seemed unfair. “What if I only kill annoying people?” “No!”

Maybe identity was just a story people told themselves. When Astaroth’s past had been stripped away, it had put an abrupt end to the narrative he’d told himself for centuries, and a new story had begun.

“Loving my potential isn’t the same as loving me. I’m done letting you tear me down. I suggest you get therapy to address your anger and your impossible expectations, but I’m not going to wait for that. We’re done.”

Astaroth raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. His eyes were glistening, too, and in them she saw something equally terrifying and amazing. Possibility.

Love wasn’t trying to force someone to be who you thought they should be. It was loving them as they were while supporting them on their journey toward becoming their best self.

“I’ll never get enough of you,” he said against her lips. “The sun could die and the stars could fall and the earth could rip itself apart, and none of that would matter, so long as you were in my arms.”

The world and its worries still waited, but right now, there was nothing in the universe but the two of them. “Calladia Cunnington,” Astaroth whispered as she drifted off, “you’re my miracle.”

When Calladia emerged from her shower to see coffee and a breakfast sandwich waiting for her, she looked like she might cry. “You angel.” He nearly choked. “Not quite.” “You terrible, wonderful demon,” she corrected, rushing for the caffeine.

At the top, he knelt before Calladia. “I choose you,” he murmured, cupping her cheeks. Tears shone in her beautiful brown eyes. “Please, no,” she said, voice breaking. He would not be deterred. After a lifetime of manipulation and lies, Astaroth had found something more important than power. “I choose love,” he told her. “I love you.”

Maybe it was because human lives were brief. They crammed in so much meaning that each day was an adventure. They cared so fiercely that their love stories echoed through time.

Words could do a lot, but not everything. His truth was a feeling, precious and warm, held safe within his rib cage. His truth was also in his arms, his equal in every way.

“Calladia Cunnington,” Astaroth said, “my warrior queen. I love you, and I want to spend a life with you. The good and bad and annoying and sublime. I want you to shout at me and kick my arse. I want to tickle your feet and tempt death. I want to live with you, as fully and aggressively as we can.”