We slipped into the car, and he started the engine before peeling out of the place. My heart thudded hard, the need forhim rising again. I’d spent all day with him, but now that we headed home, my mind slipped toward the darker proclivities that dwelled there.
A few blocks away from the Slumbering Gardens, Cillian slowed to a halt in front of a coffee shop, Midnight Café. With the black banner out front and the neon white lighting for the sign, it felt like a perfect choice for him. The streets around here bustled, so different from the quiet oasis we’d escaped.
“How long has Mal been in Peregrine City?” I asked, as if I knew the person who owned the garden.
“His whole life. And he’s lived a long one,” Cillian said. “There’s a reason he owns that much acreage in the city. It’d be impossible if it hadn’t been in his family already.”
“Damn, I can only imagine.”
We stepped out of the car, and the moment we did, Cillian’s alertness kicked in. His shoulders tightened the slightest bit, and the feral air around him increased. My body responded in turn, and I paid attention to my surroundings a bit more. Around every corner, someone terrible could lurk, a reality I was more aware of now I had a mark over my head as Cillian’s personal assistant.
When we walked into the coffee shop, a smooth jazz swept through along with the quiet chatter of the customers inside. The décor was equally dark, black walls offset by painted star and moon motifs, and the globe lights around the shop gleamed like moonlight.
“What can I get you?” he asked me as we stood in line. His palm pressed against my lower back again, and I fought the urge to swoon. It made my stomach flip-flop in the best way.
“A latte would be great,” I said. This was all so normal in a way that fucked with my head, and I found it far too easy to pretend we weren’t stuck in the Spires, that this was just our normal life and we were out in the city together. The yearning that rushedthrough me grew fiercer than anything I’d ever experienced before.
He strode up to the register and placed our orders—a latte for me and a black coffee for him.
The barista set to work on the espresso machine, and we moved to the handoff pane.
The tension emanating off Cillian hadn’t abated.
“You really don’t go out in public much, do you?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
His expression darkened. “I used to. But that changed.”
After her, I assumed. His ex-girlfriend who jumped ship to Thorin’s business. Whatever was going on regarding that situation seemed to be a lot more dangerous and complex than I was aware of. I couldn’t lie that I’d become more curious than ever.
The door creaked open, and my glance traveled that way.
I froze at the sight of a familiar face. What the hell was Damian doing on this side of town? He was perfectly coiffed, as usual, wearing a crisp button-down and a smarmy attitude.
His gaze landed on me, and his eyes widened in surprise—to be expected, since I’d all but disappeared. Part of me hoped he’d ignore me, pretend I wasn’t here, but then his hands balled into fists. He marched in our direction, his footsteps determined, and I couldn’t withhold my groan.
The slice of my past was jarring here with my present, as if I were two merged into one. The old me, the one who’d known Damian, who’d lived in the same complex as him, felt further away than ever, and I found I didn’t hate that.
“Beau,” Damian said as he closed the space between us. His voice echoed too loud in the coffee shop for my liking. “Is that you?”
“In the flesh,” I commented dryly. My feet itched for escape.
He reached out and placed a hand on my arm. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you.”
I tensed at once from his touch, not wanting him in my space, same as ever.
“Get your hand off him,” Cillian rumbled, and his palm pressed harder against my lower back. He loomed over both of us, his presence multiplying, if that were even possible. A silent thrill rose up my spine at Cillian’s command, at the way he stepped in and defended me, when in the past I’d tried to avoid persistent assholes like Damian. I’d simply deflected and endured when all I wanted was them to be gone.
“Who’re you?” Damian asked, his upper lip curling in a sneer. As he scanned Cillian up and down, I recognized the flash of his gaze for what it was—not jealousy but disgust. If anything confirmed I’d made the right call about avoiding Damian, that did. Many humans in the city hid their monster hating under polite veneers, unlike in the countryside where people brandished those attitudes like weapons.
“Remove your hand, or I’ll remove it for you,” Cillian responded with his usual tactfulness. In this instance, I could admit to being amused. Damian’s persistence had always unnerved me slightly in the past, since he knew where I lived, but with Cillian’s hand at my back, with him at my side, I felt no fear. This was addictive.
I gave a slight tug, and Damian thankfully let go before he unleashed carnage. He’d never seen “The Beast” feral, but my god, it was a sight to behold.
“Latte and a black coffee,” the barista called at the handoff pane, and I stepped past Damian to snag my latte.
“The landlord ended up renting out your place,” Damian said, pointedly trying to ignore Cillian, as if that were possible. “Are you going to come back? I can always try to put in a good word.”
“No, I’m not returning,” I said, and for the first time since I thought about the prospect, I wasn’t sad. That apartment never felt like a home, more just a place to rest my head. Stale blank walls, strangers behind every door, a view of the city that didn’t feel familiar in a cozy way, just dull. I passed the black coffee over to Cillian, who accepted it with one hand while refusing to remove his other from my back. “I’m not at the library anymore either. You’ll find your way.”
