“Drop the ‘my lady’ thing. Call me Skye.” She turns to face the approaching head pixie, a grin blooming across her face as she raises her voice. “Blue! I believe we have the table in front of the window reserved?”
“Of course!” the pixie squeaks, leading us across the restaurant.
If I thought there were a great deal of decorations last time, it’s nothing compared to now. Red and pink hearts cover every surface, and so many hang from the ceiling it’s asif we sit under a willow with a new leaf shape. There are also several more posters about the town’s Valentine’s Day Dance.
Blue asks, “Will you want the bitter brew?”
“Yes, please,” Skye says. “Allthe coffee.” Then she orders us each a sweet pizza with an additional spicy meat pizza for me.
The pixie darts away, whistling instructions, and a flock of her brethren flies an insulated carafe to our table.
Skye fills our mugs and takes an appreciative sip.
I drink my coffee black, enjoying the bitter earthiness and the way the caffeine makes my heart pound more quickly.
Or perhaps that’s from watching Skye wrap her lips over the rim of her mug. I remember all the hints the other men drop about humans and their adventurous sexualities. Similarly to how I pleasured her with my mouth, would she do the same to me? The thought is electric, and my internal fire roars higher. My cocks swell, and I shift in my chair, trying to ease some of the pressure.
“Be chill.” Skye’s eyes flick toward the window. “We’re being watched.”
I turn my head.
Half the town stands on the sidewalk outside Slice of Life. Most of them look away as soon as they see me staring, but Mrs. Greely stands right in front, propped up by her cane. She lifts one hand, points two fingers at her eyes, and then points them at me.
“I told you to be chill!” Skye’s toe nudges my shin.
I turn back to her. “Isn’t it considered normal to look out the window?”
“Usually, yeah, but this breakfast is about as far from normal as you can get. The only reason we’re not inundated with rubberneckers at the other tables is because I called in backup.”
I noted there were other people in the restaurant when we came in, of course, but none registered as a threat. Looking again, I see that several of the witches occupy all of the tables next to ours, keeping anyone else from getting close. Behind them, the people filling the other tables hold their phones in our direction, necks craning.
The pixies return with our food, a group of four flying each individual plate to us. They set everything down and cry, “Pizza!” in unison, and the rest of the restaurant echoes them.
“I got us each the Valentine’s special, which is a waffle topped with strawberries and chocolate syrup.” Skye points to the final plate with her fork. “That’s a sausage patty. They’re usually not that big, but I didn’t think you’d mind the extra meat.”
I use my fork and knife to slice off a section of the sausage and take a bite. Sage and thyme add an interesting herbiness to the rich, salty meat. “Thank you.”
She grins and cuts into her waffle, making sure to get berries and chocolate syrup in every bite.
I try mine, the bright acidic fruit offset nicely by the earthy chocolate and the bready waffle. I’m about to tell her how much I like her choice when the head of a cane slams down on our table.
My wings lift and half spread, ready for flight, and Skye jumps, pressing a hand to her heart. “Mrs. Greely. Youstartled us.”
The elderly woman spears me with her eyes. “I meant to.” She shuffles past us to an occupied table, elbowing away a couple just starting to rise. The pixies haven’t even removed the dirty dishes yet. She settles into the chair facing our table and stares.
As we continue to eat, I ignore the older woman’s scrutiny—I’m well used to being treated with wariness.
The sweet Skye, on the other hand, suffers under Mrs. Greely’s withering gaze. The little witch shifts in her seat, berries falling from her fork with every bite. After a good five minutes of this, she whispers, “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I do,” she sounds morose, her expression miserable. “I kept telling you to be chill, and here I am, being about as far from chill as possible.”
I reach over and take her hand. “Do not apologize for an inability to deceive. I find your open nature very refreshing.”
A smile breaks across her face. “You do?”
“It can be hard to live as long as I have. You get somewhat… jaded. I find your candor and love for life invigorating.”
