Silva recovered from her mirth, sobering instantly. Back to the resort, to the little town, where Tate was.You can’t tag along, they don’t want you as a third wheel.“Oh,” she said in a small voice, feeling her heart thump in her chest, the bruise on her shoulder pulsing in response, “and you’re leaving tonight?”
“Well, Khash is leaving this afternoon, he’s only working this morning. I’m not going to get out of here until this evening, so he’s going up with his dog today to open up the cabin. He lives in the city, so it’s not like we’d be going home together anyways. I’m going to leave early tomorrow morning.”
“Could-could I go with you?” Silva bit her lip as soon as the blurted request left her lips. “I mean...I don’t want to put you on the spot, and I don’t need to be entertained or anything, I-I have someplace to stay. It’s just…” It would be a built-in excuse to go, if her family questioned where she was for the weekend; she was taking a girls weekend with her friend, and she wouldn’t be around to field Wynn’s calls, if he bothered. She’d see Tate and his laughing eyes and dagger-toothed smile; would fulfill her promise and get to feel the security of his arms.Freedom…
“If you have a place to stay, I’d be happy for the company,” Lurielle smiled, glancing up as several people shuffled into the room, lining up at the coffee machine. “But I’m going to want to hear everything on the drive.”
There was a spring in her step as she marched back to her desk. A department email to forward, several files from her boss she needed to parse through, several clients to contact...but her cellphone was there, an inescapable presence on the edge of her desk, calling to her from its ice cream-colored case. Scooping it up, Silva flipped open her contacts before she could overthink her actions.
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” she said calmly, in a voice that was not her own, with bravery she must have leached from Lurielle during their talk. “You don’t seem happy with me,” Wynn’s voice sputtered denial, but she continued steadily, “and I’m not happy with the way things have been going. I think it’d be best if we end this now.” When his sputtering turned to anger, Silva disconnected the call, blocking his number. Another layer of the heavy weight sliced away, leaving her with a giddiness that made her bounce in her chair. The rush of adrenaline she felt directed her movements before she could stop herself, and then she was thumbing open her contacts once more, swiping until she reached the number she’d saved for Clover Bistro. She’d leave a message with the beautiful mothwoman today, she decided, would let him know she was coming.
The moth did not answer the phone. Instead, Tate’s lilting accent froze her in her chair, completely unprepared. Still jocular, she was able to envision his cocky smile and messy bun, leaning behind the polished bar, or perhaps in his tidy office. Amusement colored his voice as he repeated his greeting, and Silva jolted, realizing she’d remained silent, unable to force her throat into action.
“Dove, is that you?”
♥♥♥
The dining room was a bustle of activity.
Silva beamed as she took in full tables, the gleaming dark-wood bar, the familiar sight of the pretty glassware, and pierced staff. The beautiful mothwoman was at the hostess stand, a small queue in front of her, and she saw several servers she recognized moving between tables.
Tate was nowhere to be found. She suffered a momentary flutter of self-consciousness that he wasn’t there and that she wasn’t welcome after all, but shook her head firmly, clearing the doubt away. If he wasn’t here, she would go to the bar, would read a book at the restaurant across the street until he made his presence known; she would spend the weekend in his arms and demand something more from him before she left Sunday, something more tangible and significant thantil the next time. A promise, she thought. She’d extract a promise from his lips, one that he’d be bound to keep.
She sensed him behind her before she could even turn around. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose, and Silva shivered, feeling as though she was being stalked; a pard with great jaws, creeping on her steadily, heat at her back and a whisper of sandalwood in her nose. The noise in the dining room was suddenly a distant, white noise, and she wondered, as she allowed herself to be easy prey, if this moment existed in some liminal space, between what was and what would follow, in the faerie realm.
“You look lost, little dove.”
Silva stood stock-still as he raised a long-fingered hand, dragging lightly up her arm to her neck. Tate pushed the heavy curtain of her hair over one shoulder, exposing her neck, the spot where he’d bitten her just out of sight, beneath her silk shell. A shiver moved up her spine as he bent his head to move his nose up her neck, breathing her in, ending in a soft kiss behind her ear.
The room hummed in a blur, and Silva was certain they were invisible where they stood, on the dining room floor.
His hands dropped to land on her hips as she turned in the circle of his arms. His almond-shaped eyes were lit with mischief, honey gold and dancing as he took her in, his mouth pulled into its ever-present cocky smirk.
“Not lost,” she corrected with a smile, gratified when his mouth split and his smile stretched, revealing the long spikes of his teeth, longer than she remembered, but perhaps that was only here, in this non-space where they stood. Sharp and crowded, she wanted to feel their drag upon her skin. Silva rested her hands against his leanly-muscled chest, a gesture of pushing him away...until she fisted her fingers in his shirt, preventing him from escaping her, and his smile widened impossibly further. Lovely green skin and Elvish manners, but more fae by far.
“I’m exactly where I meant to be.”
♥♥♥
The sunset was a crimson smear at the tree line at the crest of the hilltop, bathing the valley below in pink shadows, thin tendrils of golden light barely touching the rich green vegetation. Lurielle stretched and sighed, rubbing her face to the broad forest-colored chest beneath her cheek, completely at peace.
When he’d announced he was putting up a hammock, she’d thought he was kidding.
“Darlin’, my granddaddy wants me to have a hammock, you don’t understand. ‘You work hard, boy, you deserve to put your feet up at the end of the day!’ He’s telling me right now!”
“I don’t disagree,” she laughed, “but isn’t that what your butt massager chair is for?”
The first time she’d been to his apartment, she’d been introduced to the giant leather club-style chair. Sleek and expensive-looking, the mahogany leather was accented with a brass nail head trim, and a full control panel on the inside of the arm. Heat, vibrations, a reclining back and rolling knobs that massaged her shoulders and, as she learned with a squeak, lower half.
He’d regarded her with a frown. “I can’t take my chair to the cabin, Bluebell.”
Her boyfriend was, she’d learned, far from perfect. His winsome smile and Old South persona meant she was often left cooling her heels, tapping her fingers impatiently as he worked to charm virtually every server, mail clerk, usher, and sanitation worker they came across on a weekly basis. He drove too fast, snored like a foghorn. Stubborn as a bull, she questioned whether he had minotaur blood often, for once he latched onto something, there was nothing she or anyone else could say that wouldn’t make him dig his heels in.
The hammock was orc-sized and had taken several trial-and-errors, resulting in her hiding her giggles as he picked himself off the ground, cursing in Orcish and kicking the giant ball of netting, to determine the proper tension required to secure it between two great trees. Climbing into it was still terrifying, as was rocking out of it, but Lurielle had to admit, as they swayed in the golden sunset, it was one of his better flights of fancy.
“Granddaddy did a good job picking this one out,” she murmured across his chest, smiling against his skin when his rich chuckle rumbled beneath her cheek.Pantless Time with Bluebellhad become something she’d become gradually more comfortable with, as long as they weren’t doing anything more taxing than laying in the hammock or swimming in the lake.
She was concerned about Silva, even more since telling Khash that she’d dropped her co-worker off that morning in town. “She said she has someplace to stay,” she’d shrugged, when he’d questioned the whereabouts of her travel companion. “I think she fooled around with a server at that cute little bistro on the corner of Main Street the last time we were here, I’m pretty sure that’s who she’s staying with. He’s cute, but...I don’t know, there’s something a little creepy about him. He has too many teeth.”
