Sidelined by L. L. Frost

Author:L. L. Frost [Frost, L. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Small Bites
Published: 2018-10-05T04:00:00+00:00

(un)Concerned

"Jesse, did you already give Torch the Pink Ivory?" I special ordered the expensive wood shavings, and when I arrived to work today, the box was already open. "You know he's on a strict Thorn wood diet while we're baking."

Liquid eyes wide, the little gray imp ducks out of sight behind the kitchen island. Not a hard thing to do when it stands little over four feet tall. I really wish it would choose a form already, but none of the magazines I brought in piqued its interest.

My other imps have all settled into their chosen human guises and can now move about freely without raising suspicion, but Jesse has to stay hidden. No one would look at its gray skin, large brown eyes, and androgynous body and mistake it for human.

Sighing, I crouch next to the oven and open the little hatch on the side to check Torch's food supply. Wood pellets form a dome its metal bowl, with little curls of pink wood mixed in with the pale gold rounds. I'm seriously going to have to lock up Torch's food.

The little ignis demon comes running from the opposite side of the bank of ovens. He glows a nice, steady red that flares to a happy blue for a second as he spots me.

I smile and wiggle my fingers at him. "Hey, buddy, you doing good today?"

He flickers and pats his round belly.

Does he look bigger than yesterday? I eye his overfilled dish. Maybe I need to put him on a diet. We can't risk him growing too big and escaping his oven again.

"Okay, let's both work hard, little guy."

He flickers again and runs to his food dish, pellets spilling over the side as he digs out a pink curl and shoves it into his stomach. He flares blue again and reaches for another of the expensive shavings.

Closing the hatch, I stand to check the temperature on the oven and adjust a couple dials. Definitely need to lock up his food supply. We can't have him burning the cupcakes.

"Master, we are low on bumble bees," Iris calls as she pulls small cakes off the cooling rack and moves them to the decorating counter.

I try not to flinch at the honorific. Since I took over their contract, I can't get them to stop with the whole Master business. At least, they're not calling me The Protector of Imps. I cringe with the knowledge that, somewhere in my history book in the Library, that title has been permanently stamped on record. Offer a little freewill to the imps, and suddenly, I'm titled.

"Okay, I'll be right there." I reach into my chef coat pocket and pull out a hairnet, fitting it over the bun I put my hair up into.

Nothing says sexy succubus like a hairnet, right?

With a deep breath of sugary, buttery air, contentment temporarily washes away the troubles of the last twenty-four hours. The bakery is my dream, and somehow, surrounded by all the happy energies brought on by humans indulging in sweets, it's hard to believe there are hunters out there who want to harm me.

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