“It is,” she said. “As a teen, I loved trying out differentstyles of clothing, and my favorite was this blend whimsical and dark. Flowing fabrics, long skirts, velvet and lace. But since I lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska, there were no stores like this anywhere. I had to put everything together myself. There was a lot of scraping together money to go thrifting and recycling old hand-me-down clothes. My classmates didn’t exactly appreciate my fashion sense.”
Nyte swept his eyes over the mannequins and made a hum that sounded a hint more intrigued than dismissive. “What was their fashion sense?”
“For most of them, just practical clothing. Jeans and T-shirts, button downs, tennis shoes or sturdy boots. A lot of kids also lived and worked on family farms. But my style was what people call witchcore these days. Not really a popular trend back in my hometown.”
He arched a brow, settling his intense gaze upon her. “Witchcore.”
“I swear I didn’t know I was a witch! I still don’t believe I am one.” She wiggled her fingers at him, envisioning sparks flying from them. “See? Nothing.”
By his expression, he was neither impressed nor convinced. “And yet here we both stand.”
Ember lowered her hands and shrugged. “Doesn’t change the fact I didn’t know and didn’t summon you on purpose.” Looking down, she made sure her point of sale system was up and running before walking to the door and flipping the sign to OPEN.
“I…don’t blame you, mortal.” There was an odd hesitance in his voice that added sincerity to his words.
When she looked at Nyte, his back was to her as he drifted toward the small section of men’s attire. He hadn’t been looking at her when he’d said those words, but hearing them relieved apressure in Ember’s chest she hadn’t even realized had been there. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her.
Though she’d done her best to remain positive in a situation that was beyond either of their control, she’d feared that he hated her for it…or that her innocent wish had brought about his torment.
“I’m not that bad to be around, am I?” she blurted, her face immediately heating.
His gaze flicked toward her. During his brief silence, that pressure returned to her chest, and the warmth in her cheeks intensified. There were so many scathing things he could’ve said in response, so many ways he could’ve cut her down, diminished her, destroyed her.
But when he finally replied, the two most unexpected words came from his mouth. “You’re not.”
Ember let out a long, slow, relieved breath.
So maybe a month in her presence wouldn’t be so bad for him, after all. A girl could hope, right?
He lifted a black poet’s shirt from the rack, dangling it from his finger by the hanger. “This looks somewhat closer to the popular fashion from when I last walked amongst your kind.”
Ember made her way toward him. She plucked a long, black button-up coat from a rack, took the shirt from him, and slipped the hanger within the coat, pairing the garments before holding them up to Nyte. She smiled. “You would look rather dashing in this.”
Nyte looked down at himself and flattened a hand against the clothes, pressing them to his body. The corner of his mouth quirked. “You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you? Seeing me dressed like a human?”
“I just think you’d look handsome in it.”
He raised his eyes to meet hers, and his brow furrowed. For the second time today, something softened in his face. Shecould almost feel it in the way he was looking at her—a hint of curiosity, tempered by lingering wariness.
The front door opened, and new voices accompanied the tinkling bell as customers entered.
Ember yanked the hangers away from Nyte, alarm flaring within her before she recalled that others couldn’t see him. He was smirking at her, a playful gleam in his otherworldly eyes.
“Behave,” she whispered before turning toward the customers. “Welcome to Darkly Romantic.”
Chapter Seven
As the sun sank and evening deepened, Nyte realized that he had never in all his long existence spent a day with anyone. Before seeking isolation in the Pit of Despair, he’d spent plenty of nights with company—often with Starling—but his days had always been times of quiet seclusion, awaiting the next sunset.
Though daytime was not the bane of nocturni, it was a mild hindrance. Everything required a little more effort for him during the day, a little more energy, and given that he had eternity stretching before him, he’d always chosen to spend his days in respite.
He never would’ve believed that a day, any day, could be enjoyable. Tedious? Absolutely. Taxing? Most definitely. Irritating? Without a doubt.
But the time he’d spent with Ember, the day he’d spent with her…
It…hasn’t been unpleasant.
From his place in the corner, leaning against the wall beside shelves that held an excessive number of handbags, he watched Ember chat to a patron who was purchasing garments.Though the sign on the shop’s front door clearly stated it would close at six bells past noon, it was now a quarter past six, and the silver-haired proprietress was as warm and friendly as she’d been upon opening.
