[/Oops! I wrote an main character version earlier today when it was supposed to be a secondary character version, so now you must read the same scene from the other perspective! BTW, this is a female-run society. —RS/]

The sky didn't brighten properly: Those /little/ weirdnesses that remind you that you're working for the greatest thaumaturge ever to live! That and that when I arrived in the botanical garden, the surprise the Director of Home had coquettishly told me she'd gotten for me turned out to be the second strongest thaumaturge in the world—the only woman I'd had a crush on, whom I'd fallen in love with the night we'd met, when we'd still been newbies in the mob. I'd ascended the ranks, always her dependable lieutenant, always too in awe of her capabilities and perfect lean-and-muscular devil-girl looks to /not/ stutter or blush any time the idea or opportunity arose to ask if we might hook up.

There she stood. Confident. Dangerous. Adorable.

In the year since I sacrificed myself in hopes she could escape the dragon, I'd grown up. I'd practiced, got rid of the stutter, made sure I'd be ready to please were we to ever meet again. I'd become a Praetorian guard (in training), at Rainy Day's insistence. 

The Director of Home had tricked me. Used me as bait.

Seeing my crush didn't disappoint. Breathtaking. /Sexy./ I walked up to her where she stood, stunned as if seeing a ghost. I took her chin in hand. She let me, so I kissed her deeply.

She approved so viscerally, I had to steady her with a hand. When she took the time to breathe, she gave Rainy Days the full elbow dis and kissed me right back. I'd have trouble walking afterwards.

My devil-girl told me to attack Rainy Days. I can set anything on fire—my only salable miracle—and instantly set the grasses and trees ablaze before Her Highness could flinch. That battle, that day the sky broke, was one for the records. Dunno how we survived, but then that's my devil-girl for you. If there's a solution, she's all over it.

We now work for Director Rainy Days, however.  Loooonnnngggg story.

That evening, after all the healing, dress-up, press conferences, pomp and puffery, we snuck off to her roommate's place, an ivory tower. Talk about having hid under your enemy's nose; her roomy was the Director's adoptive daughter! Another devil-girl. Plumper. Subjectively a lot more feminine. Mopey, depressed, taking medicine to suppress withdrawals.

My devil-girl told me to take care of her friend. She was "giving me" to her. 

Not entirely surprising to me, since my devil-girl had made no bones about bedding the mob boss' lieutenants (male and female, day angels and saints, too), when she'd had to tame them. She'd found her own teacher when she'd decided she needed to learn how her body worked, and reputedly tamed him, too. Her roomy understood this. Definitely. Unmistakably. One way to work through one's depression was to take control of a guy, to tame him. 

Me? Okay with me. All night. Proved I could take care of my devil-girl's friend in a way that'd make her proud.

Um...

Apparently this freaked out my devil-girl. She left before I could cook breakfast, and I'd not see her for days, except at "business" events where I was employed as one of her bodyguards.

It's not that she turned cold, or started to hate me. That's not it. It's just that she gets this confused look on her face, even when she's around a diplomat she's taken a fancy to.  It's like... dunno... like maybe she imagines me in her head together with her roomy when she sees me?

[Author retains copyright.]

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