I rolled my eyes.Everythingannoyed Anna, including my habit of pinning up only half my hair. The worst part was that she was incredibly vocal about the annoyances. She’d even offered to show me how to do my hair, like I was a clueless teenager or something.
And of course, if it frustrated Anna , then she’d be less likely to boink Albus in his office. My inability to perform miracles of sanitizing was impeding Albus’ sex life.
Heaven forbid.
“You got it, sir. I’ll do my best.”
Sherwood’s eyes drifted to my lips and back up to my eyes. “You know, therearebetter options than working for Albus.”
Slowly, Sherwood’s hands lifted to my face, and I steeled myself. He tucked a lock of my sandy brown hair behind my ears. “A fox with emeralds like those . . . you’d pull in a fine profit. You know I only invite the women who I believe are good investments into my establishments, and you’re part of that lot. Many of my girls even grow to like it.”
I forcibly repressed the shudder crawling up my spine. I’d heard stories of “his girls”. Honestly, whatever someone wanted to do with their body was their business, but I didn’t buy for a second that Sherwood allowed his sex workers flexibility and choice. Maybe at first, but eventually they all seemed to end up hooked on coke, meth, heroine, or some other illegal substance. Drugs, that it was rumored, Sherwood kept in supply.
“I’m good where I am,” I replied, as I’d done a million times before. Would he ever stop asking?
“Better be getting back to work then, Marian.” He turned and drifted down the hall of his empire.
When the hotelier disappeared around the corner, my hand went straight to the pendant hidden beneath my shirt—an inch-long silver arrow that had been my mom’s. Once, a tiny bow had accompanied the arrow on its chain, but the people who had cleaned up after my parents’ death had never found the bow.
The arrow comforted me so much that I never took it off. I even wore it at the hotel, although the vampires forbid that their employees wear silver. I suspected that they were paranoid someone might try to cram an earring down their undead throats.
At first, breaking the rule had terrified me, but for the last five years, no one had noticed. The pendant hung low enough that my uniform always covered it. Now, I didn’t even question putting it on every morning.
It was an easy risk to take when I was invisible to most people.
I set my groceries on the counter and did a few neck circles to release the tension seizing my muscles. I needed to go for a run soon. My job gave me the worst aches and pains but running the sand dunes in my fox aspect always alleviated them. But it was too late to do so now.
Maybe tomorrow, Ada would let me take the children into the desert. Perhaps we could even practice archery. The tyrannical heat had let up, which meant outdoor activities were an option again.
The thought of watching the children run wild and free brought a smile to my face. Despite the orphanage being specifically for shifters, the poor things weren’t allowed to shift inside. They made too much of a mess. So, when they got a little freedom, theyreallywent for it.
I hummed as I put the groceries away, setting aside the massive box of chocolates I’d bought for the kids. Once that was done, I cranked up the heat in the oven and without waiting for it to finish preheating, slipped a frozen pizza inside. The door shut noisily, and I flipped the electric kettle on, moving around my kitchen like a well-oiled machine.
A whistle pierced the air a few minutes later, and I poured the steaming hot water into a mug prepped with a teabag. Lavender and honey filled my nostrils. Like a drug, the scents calmed me and urged me to slow down. The ache in my muscles eased a teensy bit. I cupped the warm mug with both hands and sighed as I went to take a seat on my sagging couch. What a day it had been. Amidst my normal floors, there were twelve bachelor party rooms, each one grosser than the last.
The novel I’d been reading sat on the end table. I reached for the book, ready to dive into a light romantic comedy, but it was just out of reach. I huffed, not wanting to put weight on my aching feet again but wanting to read my story even more. When I stood to retrieve the title, I cracked the window to let in fresh air. The heat made my home so musty sometimes.
I collapsed back onto the couch and tilted my head over the back, relishing in the stretch up my neck. A breeze flew in from outside, and I stiffened.
I’d caught a whiff of a sweet aroma. Something out of place in my home. An old and familiar scent that enlivened every cell in my body. One that had the power to break my heart.
Toffee.
I shivered as memories of Robin and me flashed through my mind, unstoppable and vivid.
The time we’d started a rock collection and placed our treasures in Robin’s single, prized possession: a beautiful mahogany box much too pretty to hold dusty rocks.
The day we’d first ridden our bicycles, and I’d had to hold on to his handlebars before he’d even get on the bike.
Sneaking out of the orphanage and running the dunes of Nevada in our fox aspects.
The time that he’d convinced me to help him steal candy bars from the corner market. And when Ada subsequently caught us and made us return them with a hand-written apology.
Our first kiss beneath a star-filled sky in the desert.
I sucked in a breath. Thirteen long years later, that kiss still warmed my heart. It was a kiss that had led to countless others, and then more intimate explorations.
He’d been my first in every single way, and despite being apart for four years, a disturbing number of things still reminded me of Robin Hood.
