“Maurice,” Njáll murmurs.
Vlad squeezes my hand tightly.
Maurice rolls his eyes. “It’s not about that,” he says. “I just figured you might have eloped while you were away.”
I huff, and they all laugh again, and warmth settles in my chest, my magic wrapping around the room, around all of us.
“You know we’ll still be training you,” Paxton says to me. He levels Vlad with a look.
Vlad nods. “Give us a few days first.”
“We have that,” I say. “Four days before everything goes to shit, apparently.”
Maurice gets to his feet. “That’s our cue then,” he says and drags Njáll over to the door. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I intend to spend the time before we get dragged into the middle of a fae civil war having the time of my life.”
They leave, and Asher and Quinn follow them out, then Jeremiah and Paxton head upstairs not long after. Vlad drags me onto his lap once the room is empty and I loop my arms around his neck.
“That is not all he told you.”
“It’s not.”
“Can it wait until later?”
“It absolutely will,” I say, and a second later, his mouth descends on mine. I smile into our kiss. Four days and shit will hit the fan, but for now, I have everything I need.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lark
ThereisareasonI have no opening hours posted for Hallowed Grounds, and it is for nights like these. Nights where I usually would have locked the doors an hour before and made my way to the cramped flat I occupy, but instead, I remain, wiping the counters over and over, all so I can enjoy simply being in his presence.
Not that he is alone. Not tonight. Tonight, Ophelia is with him, leaning into Dante’s space and speaking in low, urgent tones.
His hair is pale pink today—has been all week. The kind of pink that reminds me of cherry blossoms, which is why I added cherry blossom tea to the menu two mornings ago and ignored Drew’s soft smile.
I do not mind having an employee, especially one so diligent. I do not require a friend.
Dante shakes his head at something Ophelia says, lines marring his brow, and then glances at me. Even with his olive-toned skin, his cheeks flush. He looks quickly away.
I see all the signs of his attraction. It is not about that. It is about time, about waiting, about having him truly understand what he would be entering into, aside from the obvious. I know a great deal about him, and he knows very little about me and that is not his fault, not at all, but I simply need more time to pass, so in the meantime, I will remain close and wait.
A flash of light hair draws my eye to the door. He does not enter, just stands there long enough that I know he will not be dissuaded.
I sigh. It is time to stop staring, to close, and then see why the Huntsman has deigned to visit me after all this time.
Neither Dante nor Ophelia is looking at me now, Ophelia showing Dante something on her phone, so I approach them. I will need to clean their empty mugs anyway, and that will give me something to do with my hands during the no doubt unpleasant conversation that will follow their departure.
“…just swipe this way, and then if he does the same, it’ll match you together.”
“Yeah, thanks, I know how dating apps work.”
I come to a stop a few feet away, my heart beating so loudly that I am certain they will hear it. Dante frowns down at Ophelia’s phone, swiping one way, then the next.
“Oh, don’t match me with him, Jesu—” Ophelia looks up and spots me standing there. Her eyes widen when she glances at the time. “Shit, sorry! You should’ve closed ages ago.”
Dante blinks at her, then at me before he mutters his own apology, too. I can do nothing but stand there as he hurries their mugs over to the counter.
Ophelia watches me the whole while, and I get the sense she is puzzled, but I do not know why. “You could’ve said something,” she says. “We’d have gone home.”
