“Friends also talk,” she continued.
“We are talking.”
“I mean honestly.”
“What do you think I’m dishonest about?”
“Archer.”
I tensed and commented, “I saw you speak to him at the bar.”
“He keeps finding me. He said you took something from him and that if I wanted to know more, I should ask you.”
Archer would plant little seeds of doubt everywhere. God of secrets. The pool should have gifted him powers for shit stirring since he had a penchant for the art.
I couldn’t tell her. I wouldn’t have wanted to tell her before we found out her status, but now that I knew what she was, I’d never be able to speak to her about that part of my past. Not if I wanted her to keep thinking of me the way she did.
“You obviously don’t like each other,” she pressed.
“I’ve got years on you, Scott. I’ve done a lot of things in my lifetime. He’s taken some of those decisions more personally than he should have.”
“Such as?”
“It’s divine business, Scott. And it’s the past. I don’t really want to bring it all up again.”
She bit her bottom lip.
“He’s trying to stir up trouble,” I told her firmly. “Don’t let him. He’s bitter he hasn’t made it to the elites.”
Quen considered this quietly, and I tried to pull her mind from it.
“Any other questions?” I asked her.
Her lips quirked into a smile. “Millions.”
“Fire away.”
“What’s your flower?”
“Millions of questions and you start that?”
“My brain is a little fried right now. It’s been a long week.”
I lifted a hand, closing my fist tight and opening it again. In my palm was a single Odessa calla lily. Slender and black, it stood out against my skin.
“That’s beautiful,” she breathed. “I don’t think I’ve seen them before.”
Archer could fuck off with his yellow tulips. Quentin was drawn to my colour, just like she was drawn to me. I let the flower disappear and settled an arm over her waist.
“Gray,” she said.
“I’m getting comfortable. Will you let me ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
I knew what I wanted to ask her, but I wasn’t sure she’d answer. Intensely private, Quen kept her cards close to her chest.
“That ring,” I started, and she tensed under my touch, body rigid as I touched on the uncomfortable topic. “What’s the story?”
