My many names flooded into my mind, but the one standing out the most wasFather of Lies. “No, Anna. It is just as I said.”Lucian the Liar.
Her shoulders dropped and she grimaced. “Okay.” That one word became a soft breath on the wind. “Well, I’m still happy to be with you and for this.” She spread her hand outward. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome.” Whatever had been building between us seemed to recede, and our comfortable, easy peace crept back in place. “Now, I’ve stowed the fish for safekeeping with my power, so let’s grab something to eat, then check out the Ferris wheel. Does that sound like a plan?”
“Definitely.” She held a hand toward me, and I took it, my heart full and light.
How ironic that my only loyal friend is a human.I resisted a glance toward the stars, knowing God must be having a grand old time at my ridiculous predicament.
Chapter 13
Anna Sill
One Year Ago
Inibbledonanear of roasted corn skewered on a stick, relishing the butter and salt while Lucian and I strode down the busy midway.
Voices rose all around me. Some people laughed, others chattered, and children screamed with excitement. A myriad of smells—from oils used for frying, the sweet scent of powdered sugar on funnel cakes, to smoky barbeque—mixed in the air and became a heady scent.
The evening temperature remained warm with a mild breeze licking my bare arms and sliding across my T-shirt to lift the hair from my neck.
Warm butter slid down my chin as I bit into the food. “This is so good.” Sweeping my cane in front of me with one hand, and holding the corn in the other, I laughed at the sensation of the sliding butter as it trickled down my skin.
Lucian bit into his with a crunch. “It tastes like corn.”
“Oh, stop being such a grumpy pants. Besides, do you even need to eat?”
“No, but you seemed so taken with this peasant fare I couldn’t pass it up.” He swallowed, then the sound of something hitting a metal object rang out. “Ugh. I put it in the trash where it belongs. And I stand by my first opinion. It tastes like burnt paper.”
“Not to me.” I nibbled the last bite and stopped, turning in the direction of where I heard the can. The end of my stick thwacked it with a metallic clang. “It tastes like freedom and happiness and love.” Tossing the empty cob toward the trashcan, I smiled when it plunked inside. I used a spare napkin to wipe my hands and chin.
“You missed a spot.” Lucian’s smell wafted closer, his cinnamon-smoke fragrance wrapping around me like a hug. “May I?”
I nodded and lifted my head. If anyone else had asked, I would’ve adamantly refused their help, but this was Lucian. He didn’t do it because he felt sorry for me, he did it because he cared.
The paper napkin slid over my chin gently, and the heat from his body engulfed mine.
If I reached out, my fingers would have encountered his waist or stomach.
How I longed to touch him. The temptation to feel his body—not just his hand, but his chest, his arms, his face—was a sweet ache I tried to ignore.
“There,” he said, the pressure of the napkin disappearing.
His body heat didn’t move away. Rocks crunched under his feet as he shifted closer. His breath washed over me, the scent of butter and cinnamon mixing together to fan against my face.
I lifted my chin upward, wondering how far his lips were from mine.
Just one kiss. Please.I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss another person, not as a friend or surrogate family member, but as a man and a woman.
Unable to fight the temptation, I raised my hand to touch his cheek.
His fingers wrapped around mine and stopped the movement. “The Ferris wheel is just over here. Come.” He slid his hand around my shoulders and pulled me along the path.
Disappointment washed over me. I’d been so close, I knew it.Why does he always have to be so gallant?The devil wasn’t who people thought. With me, he’d always been kind. A bit surly and cold at times, but he’d never treated me with anything but respect.
The weight of his arm around my shoulders felt good, and I swallowed, wishing he would see me as a woman instead of the poor, lonely waif he’d always known.
Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.
