Black Arts, White Craft (Black Hat Bureau 2)

“No.” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from sounding too eager, and I instantly regretted aggravating the sore. A good reminder it was a habit in need of breaking. “I can’t turn down a chance to test a new product. Your hair is gorgeous, and there’s so much of it. You’re the perfect guinea pig.”

There. Totally valid excuses. Professional even. I was proud of me.

“Ah,” he said simply and relaxed as I began spritzing the long strands.

“So…” I fumbled for conversation. “Fae or daemon tradition?”

“Daemon.”

One of the first things Asa told me about himself was that his daemon father had raped his fae mother. I hadn’t dug any further into his personal history after that explosive revelation. I had tiptoed around him, too afraid I might step on another landmine. But it puzzled me to learn he honored his daemon heritage.

As was often the case with Asa, I couldn’t help myself. “You have a relationship with your father?”

“Not as such.” He tilted his head back and closed his eyes when I began to comb. “I’m his heir.”

“What does that mean?” I ran my hands through his hair to my heart’s content. “Or is it rude to ask?”

“It means my father is Orion Pollux Stavros, High King of Hael, Master of Agonae.”

The casual namedrop left me choking on my own spit. “What?”

A subtle tension entered his shoulders. “Does that matter to you?”

“Um, yes?” I fumbled my comb. “I have enough problems without adding that to them.”

“The title makes me less desirable to you?”

“Much.” I was, sadly, almost done with his hair. The detangler worked too well. Dang it. “Sorry.”

The tension in his shoulders eased once more, and a faint vibration moved through his chest.

“Are you…purring?” I froze on the spot. “Daemons purr?”

“Only when they’re happy.” I heard the smile in his voice. “And you make me happy, Rue.”

“We’re a terrible idea.” I kept my tone light. “You know that, right?”

“I’m aware.” He chuckled. “Clay reminds me at least once a day.”

“He’s like a big brother.” An urge to defend him rose in me. “No brother wants his little sister to date.”

“He loves you very much.” Asa twisted to see me better. “Do you know how rare that is for him?”

“Clay is a social butterfly. He likes everyone. He was my partner for a long time. That builds bonds.”

“Clay is a very old thing who has become exceptional at acting any role assigned to him by his master.”

A cold spot opened in my chest that hadn’t chilled me in far too long. “What are you saying?”

“That you’re a singularity. That’s why he worries about you.” He glanced away. “And your heart.”

For as long as I had known Clay, he had been the hand I gripped to hold my head above the waterline.

We were friends, I knew that, trusted it, but I had never stopped to wonder if I was his only true friend.

“He cares about you too.” I toyed with his hair. “He doesn’t give nicknames to just anyone.”

“He likes me well enough, or he did.” He laughed softly. “Until I showed an interest in you.”