The urge to confide in him felt authentic. He was only half fae. How much of my confessions were simply my awkward attempts at navigating an undeniable attraction to a man whose opinion mattered to me? I wasn’t sure how much to blame on his nature versus how much to blame my failure at flirting etiquette.
“There you go.” She pinched a fresh cigarette between her lips without lighting it. “Question answered.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Ah.” She gave a slight nod. “You want me to tell you what to do.”
“That would be nice.”
“As I said, not my forte.” She studied me. “Only you can decide what—and who—is right for you.”
“We got off topic.” I rolled the bracelet between my fingers. “I only meant to ask about my dad.”
“This is my parting salvo.” She held up a lighter with her initials engraved on the front. “If you didn’t care about your daemon, would you still be so curious about having daemon blood? Aside from how this may affect your relationship with him, does it otherwise impact your life? Will that knowledge change who you are?” Her eyes grew shadowed in the flame summoned by a flick of her thumb. “At the end of the day, does it matter?”
The short answer was no.
The more complicated one was yes.
A knock on the door drew my attention from Meg. “Come in.”
Expecting Colby, who had an uncanny radar for when I was talking to Meg, I startled to find Asa.
“Hello,” he said slowly. “I heard voices and came to make sure everything was all right.”
Given his excellent hearing, I was willing to bet he heard more than that if he had been listening in.
“Who is this delicious morsel?” Meg wet her lips. “You’re lucky my biting days are done, tidbit.”
Asa slid his questioning gaze to mine in a clear plea for rescue I was reluctant to give.
Meg was fun when she lit into someone. As long as the someone wasn’t me.
“Megara Baros, this is Asa Montenegro.” I gestured between them. “Asa, this is Meg.”
“I’m her godmother.” Meg rested her chin on her palm. “You gave Rue the bracelet.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Asa made an elegant gesture at his waist. “I apologize for intruding.”
“I was about to go.” Meg faked a yawn. “Why don’t you tuck in my darling girl for me?”
Heat splashed my cheeks, and I wished I could reach into the ether and strangle her.
“Good night, Meg.” I pulled the plug on our connection then turned to Asa. “Sorry about that.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt…” He quirked a brow at the bowl. “What were you doing?”
“Meg was Mom’s best friend.” I set it aside. “I figured if anyone had the scoop on Dad, it would be her.”
Leaning against the doorway, he let his keen interest show. “Did she know anything?”
“No more than Clay.” I rolled a shoulder then noticed his hands. “Hey, what does your bowl do?”
Black glaze cupped the base and lightened to a vibrant crimson at the lip. A deep notch pierced its side, shaped like an old-fashioned spit curl, and a noodle was escaping through it. No. Not a noodle. A length of cream-colored yarn.
“It’s a yarn bowl.” He dipped his chin to hide the flush in his cheeks. “I was about to start a new project.”
This was not the next High King of Hael or anywhere else. Sure, he could be terrifying, but it cost him. He was more at home like this, with his yarn bowl cupped in his palm and his glasses hanging from the neck of his dress shirt. I couldn’t picture him ruling over a people who relished destruction and chaos, who let their worst impulses act as their conscience, when he preferred creation and quiet.