Bramble paused in her bottle arrangement, wings stilling momentarily. "Has he said he's firing you?"
"Not explicitly, but—"
"Has he given any indication that last night meant nothing to him?"
I swallowed hard, remembering the intensity in his eyes this morning. "No."
"Then maybe," Bramble said, turning to mist a particularly vicious-looking orchid whose teeth snapped at the water droplets, "just maybe, you're creating a disaster before it happens because that's safer than hoping for something good."
I sank onto a moss-covered bench, suddenly exhausted by the weight of my own defenses.
"When did you get so insightful about relationships?" I asked, deflecting with weak humor.
Bramble flashed a smile that was all teeth. "I'm two hundred and seventy-three years old, honey. I've seen more beings fall in and out of love than you've made lattes." She darted close enough to tap the end of my nose with one finger. "And none of them were any good at hiding it either."
"Is it that obvious? Can everyone see through me?"
"Silas knows. I know." She shrugged, wings creating tiny rainbows in the greenhouse light. "The customers are too self-absorbed to notice, mostly. But Krampus?" Her smile turned knowing. "He sees everything about you."
The thought was terrifying and comforting in equal measure, being truly seen, even the scared, scarred parts.
"I don't know what to do," I admitted softly, the confession easier here among the strange plants than it would be anywhere else.
"Yes you do." She fluttered back to her hydrangeas, effectively dismissing me. "You're just not ready to admit it yet."
Chapter twelve
Krampus
Itracked her through the café like the predator I am, following the subtle scent of roses and sugar that clung to her skin beneath the more obvious smell of espresso and cinnamon. My hooves clicked softly against the wooden floors as I moved between tables. When Simone slipped through the vine-draped doorway to Bramble's greenhouse alcove, I allowed myself a smile that revealed the points of my fangs. The little manager thought she could hide from me? Foolish. Delicious.Mine.
I paused at the threshold, observing her through the curtain of vines. Her pink dress clung to the curves I'd marked with my claws just hours before. Her hands twisted nervously at her sides, fingers brushing absently against her neck where my collar had been. My collar. The memory of leather against her throat, of her surrender in my arms, sent heat surging through me. She was marked as mine now, whether she admitted it or not.
The pixie fluttered nearby, her tiny voice carrying warnings about poisonous plants. I waited as Bramble delivered her blunt assessment of our situation. Smart creature. I'd have to remember to leave her extra honey in her pay next week.
When Bramble departed deeper into her jungle, I moved. Flowers turned toward me like worshippers to a dark sun. Even in this small piece of creation, nature recognized what I was, a force of judgment, of consequence, of inevitable reckoning. Simone didn't notice me until my shadow fell across her, her back still turned as she gazed at her reflection in a collected pool of water on a broad leaf. She startled, a small gasp escaping her as she spun to face me. The sight of her tightened something in my chest that had nothing to do with lust.
"You're hiding again," I stated flatly, blocking the only exit.
"I'm not hiding," she countered, chin lifting in that stubborn gesture I'd come to anticipate. To crave. "I'm just... taking inventory of Bramble's tea supplies."
The lie was so transparent I nearly laughed. Instead, I took a step forward, noting how she instinctively retreated until her back pressed against the warm glass wall. Trapped. Just where I wanted her.
"Tea supplies," I repeated, letting my disbelief color each syllable. "How convenient that this inventory became urgent the moment I arrived at the café."
Her pulse jumped visibly at her throat, that delicate hollow I'd tasted with my tongue, marked with my teeth. "Pure coincidence," she insisted, though her voice lacked conviction. "The holiday party will need special blends, and—"
"And you're avoiding me." I closed the distance between us, bracketing her face with my claws against the glass. Not touching. Not yet. Just containing, surrounding, claiming the space around her as mine. "Running from what happened. From what you want to happen again."
Her breath quickened, the sweet scent of it washing over me. Coffee and cinnamon and desire she couldn't hide. Her eyes, warm brown like the earth after rain, darted away from mine, focusing on my chest instead.
"I'm not running," she whispered, another lie that sat awkwardly on her tongue. "I'm working. You're my boss."
"I'm not your boss right now," I said, leaning closer. The heat of her skin radiated through the thin fabric of her dress, calling to me like a beacon. "I'm the monster who's going to make you beg and stop pretending you don't want me as much as I want you."
A shiver traveled through her, visible in the fine tremor of her shoulders. She looked down, studying the moss beneath our feet with sudden fascination. I waited until her stubbornness forced me to act. With one claw, I tilted her chin up, demanding she meet my gaze. Golden eyes locked with brown, predator to prey, male to female, monster to the woman who'd somehow crawled beneath my skin.
"Why do you feel the need to deprive yourself of pleasure?" I asked, genuinely curious. The question had been building since I'd first noticed the pattern, how she offered comfort but rejected it when extended to her.
