We are finally walking to the train station. Mabon is back in his human form and is a lot calmer now. There is a bounce in his step and his bright blue eyes are taking everything in with eager curiosity.
I’m glad he has managed to pull himself together. I’m terrible at providing emotional support. I never know what to do. I just get distraught too and that’s no good for anyone.
I cast another worried glance over him. He seems a little subdued, but I genuinely think he is okay now. As for me, I have no idea how I’m feeling. Conflicted, mostly. With a fair dollop of distress. Last night was incredible. Easily the best sex of my life, even though it feels like I say that after every time I sleep with Mabon. I think every time it gets better. More meaningful. More intimate.
At least that is what I thought. But if Mabon only did it out of misguided necessity, then last night meant nothing. Except that Mabon believed he had to give himself to me. Which makes me so much worse than a pimp.
“Oh!” squeals Mabon suddenly.
He stops walking and bends down. He picks up a key from the pavement and brushes it off on his jeans. Then he holds it up and twists it in the sunlight. The alloy metal gleams weakly.
“Pretty,” coos Mabon.
He wasn’t like this in the palace, but I guess nothing there was new. He wasn’t like this in the bunker, but there definitely was nothing to coo over there. A shudder wracks my body and I shove the dark thoughts down.
He admires the dirty old key for a moment longer and then carefully puts it in his hoodie pocket, along with his other pieces of junk. I suppose it is okay. The key looks like it has been lost for a while and I very much doubt we could find its original owner.
I shake my head but say nothing as we resume walking. The crowds start to thicken as we get nearer to the centre of town. Mabon steps closer to me. Then he tentatively takes my hand. The feel of his cool fingers against my own tingles, and it sets butterflies off in my stomach. Mabon shoots me an apprehensive glance, and when I don’t snatch my hand back, he smiles.
A beautiful, dazzling, sweet smile. Complete with dimples. He tightens his grip on my hand and starts all but skipping along beside me. I feel lightheaded and dizzy. My heart is doing strange things. Is this what a swoon feels like? Am I swooning?
He stops walking suddenly. “What are those?” He points through the open door of a small convenience store. I squint into the gloom of the shop.
“Chocolate bars?” The crowded display is the only thing I can see.
Mabon tugs on my hand and the next thing I know, we are standing in a rather grimy shop. Mabon runs his hand over the selection of chocolate and makes a noise that sounds like a purr.
“That’s chocolate. It’s food,” I explain.
Mabon turns to me with wide, bright eyes. “It is for eating?”
I nod and then hastily add, “Once you take the wrapper off!”
Mabon snatches up a chocolate bar with a shiny purple wrapper and then another one that’s covered in dark blue. He goes to put it in his pocket, but I stop him.
“Let’s pay for it first.”
I feel a strange sense of loss as I pull my hand away from Mabon’s. But I need both of my hands if I’m going to get these treats for him.
He watches with fascination as I pay the wizened, slightly grumpy shopkeeper. And then he beams with delight as I give the chocolate bars back to him. We walk out of the shop and I show him how to open the wrapper. He gasps in outrage when I tear it, and he snatches it back from me.
He cradles it to his chest like it is a wounded animal. He mutters something under his breath. Then he very carefully eases the chocolate out.
I’m standing here with bated breath, desperately keen to witness Mabon’s first taste of chocolate. Nothing has ever felt so important. So monumental.
He takes a big bite with gleaming white teeth. A huge smile stretches across my face as his eyes light up with wonder. His pupils widen and darken. A rosy glow tinges his pale cheeks.
“Mmmm,” he says with enthusiasm.
I force a swallow down my throat. Dear lord. I need to focus on how adorable Mabon is being, and not turn it into something sexy. My brain is observing all the pleasure signals and getting confused. That’s all it is.
He quickly devours the rest of the chocolate bar and then very daintily opens the next one without tearing the wrapper. He consumes the second bar with unrestrained joy, and I’m turned into a quivering mess.
I watch helplessly as he neatly and diligently folds the wrappers up and places them in his pocket, amongst his othertreasures. I shake my head in a vain attempt to clear it from my very inappropriate thoughts.
“You’re like a magpie,” I tease. There. Light-hearted and entirely innocent.
His head snaps up, and he gives me a sharp look. Oh crap, please don’t tell me that’s insulting in fey culture?
