“I’m sure he will, but in the meantime…”
The tiny heart seemed nice. Too personal, too soon? The sunburst was a nice choice. He set it aside while he looked through the others. “After tonight he’ll be busy elsewhere.”
“Why?”
“I asked the girls to find someone to distract him. He’s in the way.” He picked up the gold sunburst. Later, it’ll mean more to her if she’s the one. He slipped it into his pocket. The sunburst it is.
CHAPTER 16
They transgress and commit Acts of Injustice, and Sin…. For the Inconvenience of their Succubi, who tryst with Men, it is abominable.
—The Secret Commonwealth by Robert Kirk and Andrew Lang (1893)
Seth stirred the pasta absently. He glanced at her. “You want to tell me what you’re thinking?”
He didn’t say anything else, just waited, quietly and patiently. Since their kiss—and the conversation afterward—he’d been as good as his word, waiting for her to make the next move.
She went over and watched him, trying to figure out how to tell him about the carnival. She’d tried to start that sentence several times since she’d arrived. It hadn’t worked. This time she just blurted out, “I’m meeting Keenan tonight.”
Seth didn’t look away from the boiling water as he asked, “You’re going out with the faery king? The guy who’s stalking you?”
“It’s not a date.” She was close enough to touch him, but she didn’t. “He asked me to go to a carnival….”
He did look at her then. “He’s dangerous.”
She took the spoon out of his hand and pulled his arm gently so he turned toward her. “If I don’t figure out what he wants, Grams is going to take away the little bit of freedom I still have. I need to figure out a way to make him leave me alone.”
Seth had that same strange panicked look he’d had after he heard about the guys—the human guys—outside the library. He nodded, slowly, like he was thinking, processing what she was saying.
She kept talking. “Maybe there’s something I can do or say…or overhear.” She leaned against him, needing his comfort, his support. She was afraid, but she couldn’t just sit around waiting for someone to save her. She had to try to save herself, try to figure it out.
He didn’t say anything.
So she said softly, “Do you have a better idea?”
“No.”
He sighed and pulled her close, holding her tightly. “His timing sucks.”
She laughed—because it was either that or weep. “You think?”
The pasta started boiling over behind them, hissing and spattering. She picked up the wooden spoon and stirred.
He stood behind her, his hands resting on her hips. “After dinner I wanted to check out some of the ointments in those recipes, so I can see them too.”
“Okay.” She looked over her shoulder at him.
He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek. It was sweet, tender.
His next remark, however, was anything but sweet. “You need to move out of the way.”
“What?”
He nudged her to the side. “No wonder you eat all that yogurt. Your cooking skills”—he sighed—“pitiful.”
She laughed for real then, grateful that he was teasing, grateful that he wasn’t letting her admission spoil what was left of their evening. She smacked his arm lightly. “I can stir pasta. It’s not a special skill.”
“Half of it will be stuck to the pan if you keep trying to do it. Come on. Out of the way.”