I narrow my eyes. “Why, Daffy Dear, are you asking if my case study has found its happy ending?”
“That was one of the possible conditions for its fulfillment. Two, actually. Either we completed your case study or I entered a committed partnership.”
I wince. “I don’t know if anyone would consider me a favorable match.” I chuckle as she jabs a weak punch at my ribs. “But you’re right. We’ve completed my case study. You’ve won my heart, and there’s no giving it back. And you no longer have a model problem.”
She gives me a coy grin. “Does that mean you’re my permanent model? Even when I want you to do dirty stuff in front of the mirror?”
“Especially when you want me to do dirty stuff.” I give her ass a squeeze. She squeals as my palm rounds its curve, and again when my fingers slide along the seam of her cheeks. “We have a lot of exploring to do.”
Her eyes go wide, her expression a mixture of fascination and apprehension.
“Don’t worry,” I say, giving her ass a playful slap. “No exploring tonight. If we don’t sleep soon, we won’t at all. And you probably want the ability to walk this weekend.”
She sinks back down on my chest. Her voice comes out with a little pout as she mutters, “I don’thaveto walk.”
We fall into a comfortable silence. I trace patterns up and down her arm while she breathes softly against my chest. I think she might have fallen asleep until she shifts, staring up at me again.
“Can I ask why you stopped drinking?” At my puzzled look over her sudden question, she adds, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I never thought much of it until Briony told me you used to drink quite a lot. She hadn’t a clue you’d stopped.”
My heart sinks. I’m not too proud of the man I used to be, but I’ve already resolved to let Daphne see all of me. “Not long after I found out about my lineage, I turned to liquor. Angie’s mother was quite the lush, so there was always a bottle hidden somewhere. It was an escape. Harmless, mostly, save for the damage to my reputation. I was a sloppy obnoxious drunk. The life of every party. But every now and then, I would drink too much. And when that would happen, I’d get sad. A sadness that often shifted to anger.”
Daphne’s brow wrinkles with concern.
“I never hurt anyone,” I say, putting her worries to rest. “The problem with my anger wasn’t my actions, it was…the result. I told you already there are certain emotions that generate heat for a fire fae. Anger is one of them. It strengthens my magic. Magic I haven’t a clue how to utilize. Magic I wasforbiddento utilize. Yet the one time I shifted into my unseelie form, I was drunk and angry. Thankfully, I was alone. Well, not entirely alone. Father found me and gave me a verbal lashing so strong, he startled me back to seelie form. I wish I could say that was when I stopped drinking, but that was hardly the end.
“I kept drinking, knowing the danger I posed to my father’s reputation should I ever accidentally shift in public. I was too much of a coward to out his secret by shifting on purpose, mostly because I wasn’t certain it would cause me to break the bargain I’d made—if it would constitute aslettingsomeone find out. But I figured if I did it unintentionally, it wouldn’t count.
“Part of me hoped I’d be freed from my burden that way, even if it meant taking the blame for my family’s ruin. Then, shortly after I was disinherited, I visited Angie. I wanted to ensure Father was treating her well now that she’d taken my place as his heir. If he was acting even remotely awful to her, I wouldn’t need to feel guilty about destroying our family. But that wasn’t at all what she relayed. She was thriving in her new role. She’d gained confidence at home and school. She’d finally stopped getting bullied and made friends. True and genuine friends, not self-serving assholes like Cosette.
“I couldn’t take that risk anymore. I couldn’t be the cause of Angie’s downfall. It’s the same reason I smoke relaxing herbal substances—merely another form of mood control. When my anxiety builds into rage, smoking or boxing helps take the edge off.”
Her eyes are full of sympathy as she traces the line of my jaw with her forefinger. “You’ve really worked so hard to keep this secret.”
“I have,” I say, lifting her hand from my jaw and laying a kiss across her fingers. “But you were right. It’s time I let it go and took this burden off my shoulders.”
As Daphne rests against me once more, her hand pressed over my heart, I come to terms with what I must do.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
DAPHNE
Ican’t believe I’m admitting this, but I can’t wait until I see Araminta. I’ve never been more desperate for a friend. As I walk to work Monday morning with a skip in my step, a weekend of great sex and love confessions behind me, I know a friend is exactly what I need. This isn’t the kind of thing I can discuss in a letter to Edwina or bottle up until we meet in person. No, I need to tell my annoying book sprite friend. Otherwise, it’s only a matter of time before I blurt outGuess how many orgasms I had last night?to the next stranger who smiles at me.
If only I knew when or where I’d next see Ari. She didn’t show up at my apartment over the weekend, though I did spend half of it at Monty’s, and I don’t know where her new place is located.
I arrive to work in a love-addled daze, shocked when I find the editorial floor bustling with so much activity. It appears I’m the last assistant to arrive. Having a skip in one’s step must not equate to an increase in speed.
I pull open the drawer to extract my pen and ink pot, eager to get started like the rest of my colleagues. I bite back a yelp at the tiny body curled up on my stack of papers. The lights overhead illuminate her paper wings, and I realize I won’t have to wait long at all to see Araminta.
“No,” she says, wincing at the bright light, “just leave me in this dark hole to wither alone.”
I arch a brow. “Did you and David break up again?”
“God, no,” she says, pushing up to sit with lethargic moves. “We’ve been over for ages.”
I wouldn’t call last weekend ages ago, but to each their own. I’m still brimming with excitement over everything I want to tell her, but I doubt she’d give me the response I want if she’s in such a somber mood. Besides, I may have admitted I was looking forward to seeing Ari, but that doesn’t mean I have to act like it. “What’s got you crawling into dark holes to die?”
She flutters out of my drawer, allowing me to extract my writing supplies. There’s a missive on my desk, so I set it aside, organizing my blank sheets of paper, my pen and ink pot, and the queries I need to read today.
