“I’ll hold you to that.” He backed up, bumped into the girls, then blushed. “See you later, Rue.”
“See you.” I slammed the door in his face then felt warm breath on my nape. “What in the…?”
The daemon stood on my heels, the forgotten cupcake on his palm. “Eat.”
Not this again. “I’m not hungry.”
The spit-muffin thing had ruined my appetite.
“Eat.”
The daemon thrust the cupcake under my nose, leaving a daub of icing on the tip, which made him grin.
Smiling right back at him, I gripped his wrist, brought the treat closer to my mouth, then pushed out with all my might, smashing the treat between his burnt-crimson eyes.
Crumbs sprinkled onto my clean floor, and icing slid off his nose in thick plops, but it was worth the mess to see him blink out at me from behind a thick layer of chocolate.
A snort of laughter shot out my nose as the daemon wiped a hand down his face, which only made it worse.
But I shut up real quick when he smeared that chocolate-coated palm across my cheek.
“That’s how you want to play this?” I sucked on my teeth. “Okay, then.” I curled a finger. “Bring it.”
Scooping more frosting off his face, he grabbed for me, but I ducked his arm, palming fallen cake off the floor. I threw a glob at him, nailing his shoulder, and he broke into a smile that showcased thick fangs.
We flung crumbs until they were too small to pick up and hurled icing until there was none left.
The daemon balled up the pleated wrapper and chucked it at my head, which devolved into a dodgeball-style battle. I slid in a smear of frosting and spun into a skid across the floor…right into Clay’s open arms.
Dressed in his usual black suit, he looked good. The wig du jour, a neon-blue quiff, brought out his eyes.
“Um.” I clutched his broad shoulders to regain my balance. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
The daemon, wrapper in hand, walked up to us and bounced the paper off my forehead. “I win.”
“That’s cheating,” I protested, then bit my lip when Clay rolled his eyes heavenward in a plea for help.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered. “Food fights are daemon foreplay.”
Of course, they were.
What else would they be?