The deafening silence is hard to bear.
I don't know what to say, and Jordan isn't saying anything, either. In the end, it's the kids who break the standstill, probably because they have no idea of how exactly huge the blunder I've made is. Ah, innocence.
"Father," the girl pouts, her little wronged face sending a pang of guilt throbbing in my chest, "I thought no one could see us if we switched into our shadow forms?"
"Did we screw up?" the boy asks, tears welling in his eyes.
Stop it. Stop guilt-tripping me! If I'd known you were in your intangible forms, I'd have pretended not to see you! I swear, it wasn't on purpose. I'm just that tired.
Oh, please, don't cry.
Seriously, don't! I don't know how to handle crying brats!
"No, dear, you haven't," Jordan shakes his head, his voice calm and soothing. Thank God, the father is intervening right on time to save us from the tears, ruffling his son's hair as he explains, "It's just that Seers see everything, whether you're in your demon or human form, or in an intangible form. They see it all."
I avert my eyes, pretending I haven't heard that. Seers? What's that? A type of food? Ha, ha.
…Darn it, I'm fucked.
"Everything?"
"Yes."
The children glance at each other, then gasp. I don't like it. I really don't like that look on their faces. No, don't say it—
"Even your true form, father?!"
"…Yes."
Anyway. Where should I start digging that grave? Preferably, I'd like my resting place to be under the shade of a tree.
***
We've moved upstairs to the office.
It's just the two of us, sitting on opposite sofas. Jordan has tucked his kids in, and I've changed into pajamas in the meantime. The clothes are still too big for me, as they're from Jordan's closet. I have to roll the sleeves and the hems of my pants. But they're comfy enough. It's not like I can keep roaming around wearing nothing but my underwear and a vest now, can I?
Fiddling with the rolled-up sleeves, I look around the room. I stare at everything but Jordan's face.
In all of my meager twenty-five years of life, I've never screwed up this bad. I've always been careful, and no one has ever noticed something's off with me. Yet, with this guy, we've not even been married for a day, and my secret is already out.
Which also means that he knows his secret is out. He's said it: Seers see it all. Nothing can be hidden from our eyes, whether we like it or not. It's as much a blessing as it is a curse, since it's an ability that can't be turned off.
And I'm pretty sure he knows that.
"They didn't specify that my spouse would be a Seer."
I feel my mouth twitch. You want to play it that way, huh?
"They didn't specify that my groom would be a patriarch."
"Touché."
Jordan concedes with a light chuckle. I can't help but fidget on my butt. It's unnerving how calm the demon is. He's sitting with an upright back, a leg swung over the other, with his intertwined hands resting on his thighs. He's the epitome of serenity.
…Can he at least pretend to be surprised or something? Can this guy even get flustered?!
My ego's getting a little hurt here.
"Anyway," Jordan smiles, brushing off the matter aside completely, "your bedroom is connected to mine through a shared den, but you can lock it on your side. I hope that doesn't bother you too much. If it does, I can allocate a guest room for you instead. It's just that if you don't take a master bedroom, I fear some people might not show you the respect you deserve."
That's it?! No probing, no comments, and right into business?! Honestly, I'm too dumbfounded to even reply.
Seers are rare. Most hunters can feel intuitively that something is off when a supernatural being is in the vicinity, and those with a keener sense can tell a bit more. But the ability to see through everything, both from the hunters' and the supernatural beings' sides, is not common. Heck, there are only a few individuals recorded in the history of my clan whose capacity rivals mine.
And Jordan doesn't seem to give a—
"Also," the demon cuts my train of thought, again. "I know you've said you're not good with children, but I hope you can get along with Ellena and Elois. They were, let's say, excited at the prospect of getting another parent. It might be a contractual marriage between us, and I don't mind if we keep our distance and mind our own business, but I don't want the kids to suffer because of our grown-ups' issues."
He really doesn't plan to talk about me being a Seer, does he? Or him being a goddamn patriarch, for all that matters.
Well, I won't complain. Not aloud, at least. In the end, I also don't want to talk about it. We can simply continue pretending to be dumb; I'm good at that.
"I'll try," I sigh. No guarantee I'll do a good job as a parental figure, though. "But, y'know, the kids' mother…?"
"She comes over on the weekend. She has a room on the same floor as ours."
"Oh, I see."
Wait a second. What the hell did he say?! No frigging way!
Am I the homewrecker in this situation?!
I think my shock shows on my face because Jordan, that ass, has the nerve to smirk ever-so-slightly. Don't tell me, that guy… Is he having fun at my expense right now? Seriously?
The more I learn about him, the more I realize he's the playful type. The annoying kind who speaks with a straight face.
"Don't worry too much. We're in a co-parenting relationship; there are no emotional strings attached. But I guess, if you make the children cry, she's going to get a little upset."
"…Duly noted."
I have to keep the kids happy so they don't tattle to their mother. Got it.
It's not like I've almost made them burst out crying at our first meeting, right? I mean, the boy didn't cry per se, and the girl only looked wronged.
Ah, who am I kidding? I'm so fucked.
"While we're on the subject," Jordan continues, oblivious to the shitstorm anxiously raging in the pit of my stomach, "I don't mind if you get a lover on the side, or some friends with benefits. Just try to keep it clean. I have a reputation to uphold in the human world because of my work, and scandals could make things messy for me."
Well, good to know, I guess.
"Same here, for the lover part. And just so we're on the same page, I have no intention whatsoever to consume my marriage with you. I'm not into men, older people, and other species, so I'll pass on it."
"You've lucked it out with me, eh?"
His low chuckle echoes throughout the office, and I can't help but scratch my cheek. Because, to be honest, I think I've indeed lucked it out with this marriage, when considering everything. My partner could have been a blob of worms, for one thing.
Besides, from the little I've seen so far, this guy can be talked to and reasoned with. Only, that could also be a front. I don't know him. A few hours spent in his company won't tell me all that much about his personality.
At the very least, he has yet to throw a wine bottle or an ashtray at my face. It gives him some brownie points in my book.
Yes, I know, the bar is low.
But I don't need much to be content.