Three Demons Ch. 02

I appreciated the comments and feedback on the first chapter more than you all could possibly imagine! I ask for the same responsive nature in my readers with this chapter as well.

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I woke to the feeling of something nuzzling my neck and licking at the skin. I giggled and tried to ignore the way my body responded to the touch. My neck had always been a sensitive spot of mine. "Felix, stop it," I happily groaned. The licking didn't stop. To add to the torture, he started nibbling. Tiny, harmless bites that made me ticklish. I burst out in giggles and finally opened my eyes - it wasn't Felix's form hovering over me, but a man's. The man had brownish red hair and what felt like a beard. I froze and tensed as the man raised his head and my gaze finally met his. Uncanny doe brown eyes stared at me.

"Sorry, love," he whispered with an almost bashful smile, exposing cheek dimples. "You just wouldn't wake up. This was a last resort." We stayed like that for a moment, staring into each others eyes. I was still stuck in place, shocked at the scenario and unsure how to react. I felt fear rise within me at the audacity of the man, how he felt no social boundaries. A strange man so very present in my very personal space - even licking me! But his eyes had such a sincere look to them and I felt no malice in the gaze. His straight and picturesque nose twitched slightly, and I wondered if he might be sniffing me. His mouth tightened into a line, his dimples denting his cheeks. He had a strong jaw and pointed chin covered in blonde stubble. His light brown eyebrows furrowed in worry. He batted his eyes at me calling them and their blonde eyelashes once more to my attention. I placed both my hands on his chest cautiously. His face seemed to relax but his nervous brown eyes held a more intense look to them now. I pushed at his chest harshly and he got off, slightly frowning and sighing with what was unmistakeably disappointment as he made his way to the arm chair and slumped into it.

I sat up immediately and heard a chuckle from behind me. My head snapped in the direction of the sound and I saw another man, this one was a little paler than the other one. He had glossy black hair that was short and heavily styled, but in a way that complimented him. He held a large tray of food which he focused on. He was tall, but had a thinner build. His muscles were toned but very lean. He had a full set of lashes that stretched over his cheeks as he looked down at the coffee table before me and set the tray upon it. He looked straight at me as he did and I held my breath when I saw his brilliant, twinkling green eyes. He raised an eyebrow at me, which I noticed were well groomed. His cheekbones were high and shallow, he had a straight nose with a wide bridge, as well as a fairly squared jaw line. He was clean shaven and had supple lips which stretched into a flirtatious smile as he winked at me and walked to the couch adjacent to the one I was seated on. I stared at him for a moment as he lounged on the couch, stretching out his long legs and put his hands behind his head. He was wearing a tight navy dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the pocket and sleeve ends had gray trim. He also wore a pair of gray jeans that fit him very well with dark brown dress shoes. His look was very polished and everything he wore screamed designer.

I dragged my eyes away from his form to look at the red head. Even sitting down he looked tall but about the same height as the one with black hair. I could tell that he was a little bigger in build than the one with black hair but not overly bulky. He was wearing a light gray Henley shirt that exposed his neck and collar bone beautifully. I could already see the start of his muscles around his neck which undoubtedly stretched into his broad shoulders. I always liked the way Henley shirts seemed to exhibit the muscles of the man wearing them and this man was no exception. The sleeves were long but pushed up to his elbows and the dark jeans he wore fit him just as nicely as his top. His legs were longer than his torso and dark brown suede boots were on his feet. He had a bracelet on his right wrist that had an intricate weave pattern with a few dark, shiny beads.

My eyes trailed back up his form and my eyes shifted between them a few more times before I finally fixed my gaze on the tray of food before me. I blinked a few times as I took in the large meal. There was a small vase which housed a singular pink rose in full bloom, parallel to a glass of orange juice accompanying a plate of scrambled eggs with bacon and hash brown. There was another plate next to it with two pancakes and a bit of butter, smothered in maple syrup. There was also a fork and knife neatly placed to the right on top of a napkin. I swallowed nervously. "Aren't you hungry?" asked the black haired one to my right. My eyes shot up to look at him where he watched me with expectation.

"I'm-" I blurted nervously. "I don't know if I'd be able to finish it all," I explained, eying the pancakes warily. I never have been a fan of anything too sweet. Beside that, my upbringing made me feel obligated to finish everything that was offered to me out of respect but I was too nervous to feel hungry.

"That's totally fine. You don't have to push yourself to eat more than you want to. And if it's disgusting just let Erik know. A little criticism would be good for him," the red headed one said, gesturing toward the black haired one - Erik.

"As much as Oliver likes to tease me," Erik began, flashing the red head - Oliver - a smile while his eyes sparked at the challenge. "I'm sure you'll like it. I swear I'm not a bad cook."

I bit my bottom lip, still a little nervous. The introductions and generally easygoing nature that these two had calmed me down a little but I still felt...shy. I wasn't an insecure girl but there was something about being catered to by two very attractive young men that made me more aware of everything I did and even a little embarrassed by the bed head I was sure I had.

I picked up the knife and fork and started to cut into the eggs, slipping a cubed cut of egg into my mouth and chewing slowly. I looked up at Erik and smiled, the food wasn't half bad. He smiled back, seeming genuinely pleased that I liked the meal and turned to face Oliver. They were talking but it was all white noise to me as my mind raged with internal monologue.

What was going to happen after I finished breakfast? Were they going to ask me where I live and drop me off or would I have to call my mom and have her pick me up? I winced. Not looking forward to that, I thought. I didn't want to have to explain this to my mom. It wasn't like me to not come home. In fact, it wasn't like me to leave the house in general. I only went outside to walk Felix or pick up groceries in town but never anything more. I didn't even have friends to hang out with; so leaving one evening and coming back the next morning would not only be out of character, but probably earn me a lecture from my controlling mother.

I looked down at the food before me and thought about how I should eat it. I was genuinely worried that Erik would think I didn't appreciate the meal he prepared for me. I'd never had a homemade meal prepared for me, solely, from someone who wasn't in my immediate family and I was grateful for the effort. I knew I'd prefer to eat the eggs and hash brown, perhaps half a strip of bacon, but I didn't want the juice or pancakes. Should I just suck it up and eat a bit of everything so it gave off the impression that I liked everything but didn't finish because I was full? The anxiety started to well within me and I was reminded of the exact reason why I didn't like social interaction.

I was generally charismatic around adults, the elderly, and people of authority - but there was something about talking to men around my age who I found attractive. When anxiety sparks within me, my reaction is to go stoic. I stop caring and am completely void of emotion within the moment, which is a positive effect as it gives me what I need to fake interest and confidence until the activity is over. But around those I find attractive or interesting, there is a genuine sense of fear that they might not approve of me. I was loath of the feeling.

I steeled my nerves and gathered every bit of confidence I could muster. I won't lie. I don't like pancakes or orange juice so I won't have any, I told myself. I nodded, if only to myself, and finished the eggs, hash brown, and as much bacon as I could eat before I was full. I exhaled deeply and sat back on the couch, my hand resting on my stomach without me realizing it. "How was it?" Erik asked. I looked up and his face was just inches from mine. I stiffened, having been startled, and quickly relaxed. I hadn't even seen him coming!

"Delicious," I replied with a quaint smile. That was an exaggeration, but I needed to be polite, "Thank you."

"No problem, sweetheart," he responded. The pet name made me flush. I looked down to hide my embarrassment. When I looked back up, Erik had this intense look in his eyes as they slowly went up and down my form. When his eyes returned to my gaze, he gave me a sultry smile that didn't reach his heated eyes.

"So, what's your name?" Oliver asked. I jumped and looked at him. I'd been so focused on Erik and his flirting that Oliver's question had startled.

"I'm sorry?" I asked.

"We introduced ourselves earlier, but you forgot to do the same," Erik said, his voice low and dangerous and...seductive. My eyes slowly made their way to his form. He pushed the tray out of the way and sat on the coffee table, leaning back on his hands. My throat was suddenly as dry as a desert.

"F-Fre-" I tried to say, but my voice broke. I turned my attention to Oliver, as Erik was too distracting with all those innuendos written on his face. I cleared my throat, louder than I would've liked, and tried again. "Freya! There we go," I smiled and let out a nervous laugh.

Oliver smiled with obvious amusement, though there was sympathy in his eyes. I felt my cheeks heat and averted my gaze to the floor. I'm making a fool of myself, I thought mournfully. "Did you not like the pancakes?" Oliver asked, calmly. I looked up at him and smiled, thankful he'd changed the subject.

"I'm sure they're delicious, but I've never been big on sweets," I explained.

"Do you prefer salty or savory meals then?" Erik asked. I was about to answer right off the bat when I realized he was making a joke. There was obvious intent in his words and a gleam in his eye that exposed the taunt in the statement. I was silent, feeling too spiteful to respond. "I think you like it salty," he murmured with a predatory grin. I narrowed my eyes at him.

Oliver cleared his throat and stood at once. "Erik, could you check on the dog please? See if he's hungry?" He asked with an authoritative edge in his voice.

"Yes, sir," Erik said quietly, his eyes still on me. We maintained eye contact as he rose and until he had walked past the living area. Oliver and I were still until I heard the front door shut.

"I'm awfully sorry," Oliver blurted, "That's just how he is. I swear its not because of you, and I'm sure he means no disrespect." He fidgeted and twiddled his thumbs. His lovely eyes grew large and his brow knitted with worry .

Poor thing, I thought. I felt bad about him worrying so much but it was still nice to hear an apology. "No need to apologize," I said, sincerely. "Quick question though," he nodded, "Do you know where my phone might be?"

"I think it's in your coat pocket," he replied. "You probably want to call your parents, right?" he asked.

I winced. Ouch. He just plainly asked if I wanted to call my parents, like it was normal. Did I look like a child to him? I didn't know why it bothered me so much, but it did. "Yeah."

"Go ahead, I don't mind," he said with a smile. I got up from the couch and headed to the room I'd slept in the night before. I was about to pass him when he said, "You've got something on your cheek."

"Oh," I said, touching my face, "What is it? Food?"

"Its," he said, the word soaked in hesitation, "It's drool, probably from when you were asleep." His face twisted with sympathy and his tone was apologetic.

I looked down in shame and was about to walk on when he took my hand and ushered me to the bathroom. He took hold of a small towel from a linen closet on the way there and wet it in the sink. "This really is unnecessary," I protested. He started rubbing the soaked towel over my face anyway, washing it. Again he was overstepping boundaries, but I began to realize that that might be his way of doing things. "When you told Erik to check on 'the dog,' were you talking about my dog? Felix?" I asked.

Oliver set the towel down on the edge of the sink and looked at me, his mouth twisting into a tight smile. "Exactly," he responded.

"Well, where is he?" I asked.

"We kept him in the shed overnight," he responded. At my incredulous look his eyes widened in fright and he started explaining, "He was a little violent with us. He attacked Everett-"

"Everett?" I interrupted.

"You'll meet him in a second, he'll be home any minute now. He was actually the one who found you. When he tried to pick you up, your dog - Felix - attacked him," he continued.

"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry," I began, "You can't really blame him for misunderstanding, dogs are very loyal and protective creatures. I hope Everett wasn't hurt."

"Oh, no," he said with a laugh. As if the very thought was inconceivable.

"That's good," I contributed, trying to avoid an awkward silence. It seemed there was no avoiding it though, as we both stood silently fidgeting, neither sure how to continue.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Everett said he found you asleep in the middle of the forest," he paused just after he said it, looking at me expectantly.

"I was lost," I explained.

"We figured as much, but we couldn't understand why you'd fallen asleep," he countered.

"I was exhausted," I squeaked, feeling the pressure of his interrogation.

"From trying to find your way back?" he asked with a sense of confidence, as if he'd finally cracked the case.

I swallowed. "Not exactly," I replied.

He didn't say anything for a moment, just looked at me with a puzzled stare. I didn't try to explain myself and instead looked at the floor with conviction, as if it would have the answers. I heard him inhale, words lingering on his lips, but just before he could form them into another one of his questions I so desperately wanted to avoid, I heard the door open loudly and a deep voice boom, "I'm home! Ollie, where are you?"

"In the bathroom, give me a minute," called Oliver, turning his head to the doorway. He exposed his neck and I saw the muscle and vein strain beneath the skin. He turned to me and said, "That's Everett. Come on, you can meet him."

We made our way back to the living room and laid my eyes upon the infamous Everett, more than anyone he deserved my thanks as he'd been the one to find me and bring me back here. He was enormous. I'm sure he was over six feet as he towered over me at my unimpressive five feet and four inches. His hair was long and a white blond in color, but cut in a frankly messy fashion. It was shaggy, layered, and choppy. The end was braided and tied with a black hair band. His skin was tanned from undoubted sun exposure, his cheeks burned red from the chill outside, and his eyes were a golden hue of hazel. His almost white eyebrows were thick enough to give off some definition and the light dusting of white stubble on his strong jaw and pointed chin made him look like, well, a man. He had a straight nose, though it wasn't as delicate as Oliver's. His overall appearance was that of ruggedness though he had an honest nature about him that had me assuming he was sweet.

"Hello, doll," he said to me with a smile as he slipped out of his jacket to reveal his powerful, packing body contained in a flannel shirt, a pair or worn out jeans, and working boots. He took two stocky steps toward me and stopped when he was just inches from pressing up against me. I looked up at him looking down at me with a glow in his eyes. Must be a trick of the light, I thought.

"You're Everett, are you," I said with a smirk.

"That I am, miss," he replied, a wolfish grin forming on his lips.

"My name's Freya," I informed him. He simply smiled at me, the golden glow in his eyes swirling as if he knew something I didn't. I squinted my eyes and tried focusing on his eyes, that glow was too consistent. He blinked and it was gone. Must've been my imagination, I thought. I relaxed and held my hand out before him, he looked at it quizzically. "Thank you for, I suppose, rescuing me. I'm very grateful for your help," I said, sincerely.

He slowly took hold of my hand with one of his, before cupping it in the other one as well. He ran his fingers over my skin, sending heat waves up my body at the light touch. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and bit my tongue to keep from producing any embarrassing sounds. He looked at me with that same knowing gaze, the smile exposing the laugh lines I hadn't noticed before. He released my hand from between his startlingly large ones and said, "My pleasure." The tone was deep and so soothing I relaxed in an instant. But more than that, it was almost familiar.

He suddenly turned and grabbed a plastic bag from the couch, handing it to me. I held it close to my person. "It's some things I thought you might want. I know most girls like to feel clean," He offered as an explanation.

I looked in the bag and saw sample sizes of toothpaste and deodorant. As well as a travel sized toothbrush and hair brush. "Thank you," I said, looking back up at him. He shrugged as if it were nothing and nodded toward the hallway leading to the bathroom.

"As soon as you're ready we'll head out and get you home," Oliver chimed once I'd reached the bathroom's door way. I stepped in and closed the door, locking it behind me. I turned and leaned against it, exhaling with both dread and relief. I was happy to be going home, even if I had to endure a lecture when I got there, but oddly felt sad that I was going back as well and I didn't know why. I'd better get cleaned up, I thought. No use in stalling the inevitable.