Crimson Truth (Onyx Assassins 4)

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cricketfire,” John said as he reached our table, a harried expression on his normally calm features. “But Ms. Jocelyn mentioned the window by—” he shot me a pleading look.

“Benedict St. James,” I said, putting out my hand and introducing myself to the—I took a sniff—yep, he was a warlock.

He glanced at my hand like it was a snake, and then turned to Jocelyn. “I don’t understand why you would bring us over here to...them?”

I slowly lowered my hand.

Jocelyn’s cheeks pinkened, but she lifted her chin. “Well, Clarence, right now my skills have been assigned to the Onyx Assassins for Conclave business, and it seems rather unfair to make Benedict responsible for my safety if we sit all the way across the room.” She motioned toward the center of the room, where the four-tiered fountain sat.

He’d wanted to sit there? Where everyone could see him and there was no clear path to an exit? He’d be a sitting duck for any attack, and worse, he’d make Jocelyn one, too. And why was she with this sniveling little shit, anyway?

Wait.

“You’re on a date?” I questioned, my gaze narrowing on the beautiful little witch.

“So are you!” She grinned, mischief sparkling in those violet eyes. “So, it’s perfect!” She spun, the hemline of her dress swishing against her upper thighs.

Clarence—whatever kind of fucking name that was—blatantly ogled until he caught me glaring at him.

“John could we just pull these tables together?” Jocelyn asked. “I’m sure she doesn’t mind.” She smiled at Isabel. “Do you?”

“Um.” Isabel’s wide gaze flew to mine. “Do we?”

“Or would you rather me sit over there by the fountain?” Jocelyn asked, raising her eyebrow at me. “I mean, it’s in the open, so you can keep an eye on me.” She shrugged like it didn’t matter, but the sparkle in her eyes told a whole other story.

“You live to torture me,” I muttered.

“Maybe I just want your opinion on my potential consort,” she whispered, low enough so only I heard her.

For fuck’s sake.

“Isabel, if you don’t mind? Jocelyn and Clarence would like to join us.” I gave her my most apologetic smile.

“Whatever you want,” she answered with a placating turn of her lips.

Holy shit, did the female truly have no opinions?

John and a couple of waiters moved the closest empty table, putting it flush with ours, and I gestured to the seat next to mine. “Let’s all have a seat.”

“I’m not sitting next to him,” Clarence hissed. “He probably thinks I’m dinner!”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not my type.”

“Big baby,” Jocelyn muttered, sliding into the chair I held for her.

“You chose him,” I countered quietly as menus were handed to Clarence and Jocelyn. Waiters carried our half-eaten appetizers away.

“My mother chose him,” Jocelyn argued.

I studied the guy as they gave their orders. His fingernails were buffed, polished, and slightly long, which told me they hadn't been inside a female for a hot minute. His hands were soft, uncalloused, but he wasn’t completely without muscle tone, given his posture.

But he definitely wasn’t a match for Jocelyn. She’d break him just for the fun of it.

“Isn’t it a little late for a date?” I asked, sipping my water after the waiter left.

“Pssh.” Jocelyn waved me off. “It’s one a.m. and you made me adjust to these god-awful night hours. It’s still early! If we finish quickly I bet we can still hit up one of the clubs down the street. We are on maritime, you know.”

I cursed myself for making reservations on the only street where witch and vampire territories intersected as our drinks were refreshed and theirs were delivered.

Let the awkwardness commence.

“Why are you eating here, anyway?” Clarence asked, rolling his wine glass between his fingers, then taking a huge drink.

Guess he wasn’t driving Jocelyn home.

“Because it’s the best restaurant in town,” I answered.

“No, I mean—” he shook his head, sending his limp brown hair across his eyes. “You guys don’t...you know...eat.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Clarence, yes they do.” Jocelyn glared at him. “Step outside coven lands every once in a while. You might learn something.”

I almost choked on my water and simultaneously wished I’d ordered something much, much stronger. “So, Clarence, what do you do with your time?” I asked.

He straightened his shoulders. “I’m the son of Gemma Cricketfire.”

Cricketfire—half the goat incident yesterday. Right.

“Right, but what do you do?” I prodded. If Jocelyn was really going to choose this guy, he had to be able to stand on his own. She’d never consider someone her equal who didn’t have the same work ethic.

“I…” He shook his head. “I don’t understand the question. I’m a warlock and son to the coven leader of the Cricketfires. I practice and hone my craft until such time that the princess chooses me for her consort.” He aimed a slimy smile at Jocelyn. “We’re the same age, you know. We’d have years together.”