She didn’t immediately return the embrace, but after several seconds, her arms rose to circle Glyma’s waist. Her hands were small but firm on Glyma’s back, and she sank into her with a small sigh, like she’d been waiting years for Glyma to hold her like this.
“Thank you, Quin,” Glyma said against the base of her horn.
“You’re—you’re welcome,” Quin stammered, breath hot against Glyma’s neck.
They stood like that far longer than was appropriate, but Glyma didn’t mind. She could have stayed that way for the rest of the afternoon, but when Quin dropped her hands and stepped back, Glyma let her go. Their tails remained coiled for a second longer, the only connection between them as they stood two feet apart. Then that link, too, fell away.
As they made their way to the front doors, Marci feigned interest in her computer, though her eyes tracked them every few seconds when Quin wasn’t paying attention.
“Any evening plans?” Quin asked as she opened the door, making the bell chime.
“I always see my mom on Thursdays,” Glyma said as Quin leaned against the open door.
“That’s nice. I bet she likes that.”
The words were innocent enough, but they sliced through Glyma’s chest all the same. “Um, yeah. She… does. What about you?”
“I wasn’t sure how long we’d be, so you’re my last appointment for the day. Going to finish up some stuff, then probably head home early.”
Marci snorted from behind her computer, covering it with a cough. Glyma and Quin dutifully ignored her.
“Must be nice being your own boss.”
Quin smiled, sharp and beautiful. “You’ll know soon enough, won’t you?”
With a wiggle of excitement, Glyma stepped out into the late afternoon light, bringing a chuckle from the Daemon. They held eye contact for a moment before Quin lifted a hand in goodbye and started to shut the door.
Driven by desperation more than logic, Glyma blurted out, “Do you wanna come with me? Since you don’t have plans, I mean.”
Like an animal caught in headlights, Quin froze. “Come with you? To see your mother?”
Was it insane? Probably. Did Glyma care? Not so much. She was going with her gut on this one, and not the Succubus one that wanted Quin to ride her face until she passed out. Well, not entirely.
She fully expected Quin to refuse. Judging from the genuine surprise on Quin’s face as she said, “O-okay?” so had the Daemon. But then Quin was opening the door again, causing another chime, and Glyma was reentering the office. “I have a few things to—”
“Take your time.” Glyma sat down in one of the plushy waiting chairs and balanced her purse in her lap. “I’ll be here.”
“Alright,” Quin said, sounding confused, as if she truly didn’t know why she had agreed to accompany her.
Glyma didn’t understand it either, but she wasn’t going to question it. More time together meant more opportunity for Quin to realize what Glyma had: that they were, for better or worse, destined for each other. She hoped it would be enough to change Quin’s mind, to give them a chance.
Because she knew a chance was all they needed to be something more, something incredible. One chance, and they could beeverything. She just needed Quin to realize it, too.
Chapter six
Puzzles and Palm-Readings
Quin
What was she doing?No, really, what the actual fuck was she doing?
The question reverberated around her brain as Quin collected her belongings and sent her assistant home an hour early. Glyma sat in one of the waiting chairs, scrolling on her phone, still wearing Quin’s cardigan—which Quin liked way more than she should. Not only was itherclothing Glyma was wearing, but it meant she smelled like Quin now.
Their scents combined in, what Quin thought, was a lovely mix. Warm spices, peppery but sweet, mixed with smokey char and scorched earth. They shouldn’t have worked together, but they did. It was intoxicating. And so very, very dangerous.
Her possessiveness made no logical sense. They’d known each other for a week? Less than? But the mere suggestion that GlymawearMarci’ssweater instead of Quin’s had made her stamp her hooves in irrational rage. She’d even imagined, for a split second, headbutting poor Marci across the room. Which was just… It was just ridiculous, okay?
Quin never acted like this. She never felt like this. She was calm. She was collected. She was marble and stone and titanium! At least, she had been. Now? Now, she felt… mushy. Soft and gooey. She was rippable flesh and brittle bone, and she feared one touch of Glyma’s soft hands would shatter her right apart.
