The Demon's Half

Chapter 14

Logan said learning how to breathe was as important as learning how to wield a weapon— doubtful.
He said it had something to do with the life force energy. "It connects with the energy within," he said. And I was too dumb to even pretend to understand what he was talking about so I nodded and got to the breathing-posture.

Later, dinner with them was a rare kind of comfort. With my dad, food was always canned.
This was different. It felt like home. It tasted like home. How was that even possible if I've never had a real home? Ni pinche idea.
Fresh salad, rich duck stew and creamy mashed potatoes that melted on my tongue. And for dessert, Elena had made chocolate flan. Gods.
For the first time in my life, I felt full. Not just my stomach, but something deeper. Sadly, that feeling didn't last.
Elena's endless chatter about spirits took over as we sipped tea, and my stomach felt heavier.
Logan told her everything about the coffee shop. Surprisingly, he left out the part where Ozias almost killed him.

She insisted our safest bet was to head to Jessica's party, promising to stay near just in case things went south.

Logan tossed out a casual, "I could take him down," earning an eye roll from both of us. She assured us that her group—the council—would be stationed outside, ready to intervene if things went a la mierda. My stomach was not having any of it. The duck I'd eaten felt like it was staging a rebellion.

Logan caught the way my hands clenched in my lap, soothing them as he stood. "We should get ready," he said.

Grateful for the out, I gave him a small smile, then turned to say goodnight to Elena.

I went straight to the shower and stood under the stream, rinsing away the familiar scent of coffee.
Coffee had always been one of my favorite scents.
It reminded me of the mornings when my father wasn't home and my mom would watch cartoons with me, coffee on hand. And the demon apparently knew it. He was branding me with it. Twisting something I loved into something tainted, something his.
I pressed my palms against the tile, exhaling slowly. His soul would be mine.

Elena lend me a dress that belonged to her daughter. Somehow, it fitted perfectly. The deep green fabric skimmed my knees, cinching at my waist, the color making my hazel eyes look almost gold. My usually dark hair took on a slight reddish glow under the light. Thankfully, the dress covered my entire back. The last thing I needed was for anyone to see the scars.
I put on tights for the cold and my boots... aaaaand the boots definitely didn't go with the outfit but there was nothing to do about it. I wouldn't ask Elena for more pieces of clothing.

My lashes were swept with mascara, when there was a knock on the door. Logan stood there, mouth parting slightly.

"Wow. You look... wow." His expression disarmed me in a way I wasn't prepared for.

"Thank you," I said.

It had been so long since I felt anything like this. Beautiful. Alive.
Since David's touch, I hadn't worn anything that showed a shape. I drowned myself in my father's clothing. Fabric that didn't smell like me. Fabric that said, 'I'm not yours. Don't look.'
But tonight, standing in Logan's gaze, I felt exposed in a way that wasn't terrifying.

I smiled. "Your sister has great taste."

Logan's smile stayed, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Does she live somewhere else?" I pressed, desperate to fill the silence. "I haven't met her yet. I'd love—"

He stepped closer. "You're beautiful, Morgan."

The words felt like a wrecking ball tearing through walls I hadn't even realized I'd built.
Did he really mean it? Or was it pity, the way people look at broken things and call them pretty just to make them feel whole?