“We almost sold out of everything!” she’d squealed, throwing herself into his waiting arms as Holt came in behind her with the box.
“She did amazing. Chatted with customers, sold her behind off.”
Holt removed the bag of sushi from the box, and Ladybug quickly extricated herself from Anzan’s grip to take the bag from the familiar, before he scarfed down an entire tray, which he’d already threatened to do several times as they waited for the order. Pulling plates from the cupboard, she lined up the takeout trays, opening the small containers of pickled ginger and wasabi, and pointedly putting the extras she had ordered for Anzan’s lunch in the refrigerator.
“Funny, that,” Holt went on, as if she’d not interrupted him. “I seem to remember saying that’s exactly what would happen. You know, it’s very hard being right all the time. A bit of a burden, to be honest.”
“And do these witches sell at the market every week?” Anzan demanded, once they relayed the story of her confrontation with Ismerelda Lattimore.
“I suppose they do,” Ladybug groaned. “I just have to get used to putting up with them.” Holt grumbled from where he sat perched on the edge of the counter once more, as she chewed thoughtfully. Seeing them had been the one dark spot of the day, and the realization that she would have to see them every week would put a bit of a damper on her future at the Makers’ Mart.
“It would be terribly unfortunate if someone were to vandalize their vehicles next Friday, preventing them from arriving at the Community Center Saturday morning.” Anzan’s voice was mild and musing, as if he were discussing something as inconsequential and dull as the weather, but for several moments no one said anything.
Holt broke the silence with a strangled burst of laughter. “He’s my favorite. Without question.”
“No one is going to be vandalizing anything!”
Holt continued to laugh, ignoring her, and Anzan had chosen that moment to become thoroughly absorbed with his rice.
“You arebothterrible!”
Now Holt was gone, and they were back in the attic, and she was suspended in the air like the most graceful of acrobats. He’d had flowers waiting for her, a beautiful bouquet of early spring blooms. Ladybug decided that the thought behind the gesture mattered more than where exactly the flowers had come from. The bouquet had been disassembled, the blossoms fed through the fastenings at her wrists and ankles, her neck and waist, braided down her torso, like the May Queen herself.
“My perfect little reina,” he murmured against her throat, nipping at her skin. “I am so proud of you, little bug. I am not at all surprised to hear of your success, of course, but I have never before felt such pride.”
Ladybug gasped when he rose above, hooking her knees over his arms and stretching her open, mounting her. The spot on his abdomen that concealed his cock was yet smooth and unopened, but her pressed it to her slick center, thrusting against the mouth of her cunt. Closing her eyes, she willed the smell of her to ignite his heat, to keep her trapped in his web and use her body for his pleasure . . .
“Do-do you need to —“
“Not yet,” Anzan groaned, not needing her to finish the thought. “Although I suspect we are close. This is how you smell the nights you worship your moon mother, my Ladybug. So beautiful and confident. My little queen ruling her kingdom, with no doubt making her second guess herself.”
With a grunt, he dropped, lowering himself to kiss her, his mouth leaving a hot trail down her throat. Perhaps it was not some pheromone trick she needed to work on, Ladybug thought. Perhaps the only thing needed to trigger his heat was her. “I’m supposed to thank you,” she remembered, grinning.
Anzan pulled back with a raised eyebrow, leaving the nipple he’d just sucked into his mouth wet and tight in the exposed air.
“A beautiful elf. She was the best customer of the day. She said to thank you for harvesting the roses.” Though the moonlight was dim, she was able to make out the rapid blink of his small black eyes and the confusion on his brow. “I talked about you,” she explained. “I talked about you tosomany people! A-and Holt’s right, I think. Most of them are just curious. We’re going to show them the basket weaving.”
Anzan harrumphed and she tugged on his hair as his mouth moved down her body. He paused when he reached the juncture of her inner thigh.
“They did not seem frightened?”
“No!” She beamed, uncaring if he could see her smile. Adrenaline still coursed through her, her pulse thumping, still punch-drunk over the day. “I think . . . I think we need to start going out more. Even a bit in the day. Slow at first, as much as you’re comfortable with, but . . . I don’t know that we have much of a choice. And I’m going to start using your venom in products. We’re going to introduce Cambric Creek to Araneaen culture, one bottle at a time.”
He chuckled against her heat and her head fell back against the springy confines, her heated skin already quivering in anticipation.
“Your ingenuity knows no bounds. I shall give this plan some thought . . . let me have you, little bug.”
Her eyes fluttered closed when his mouth descended, the tip of his tongue carrying single potent drop of his venom where she needed it most as she buried her fingers in his hair.
“You can have me whenever you want . . . I’m already yours.”
“Howoldisyourgirlfriend?”
She hadn’t meant to be as blunt as she was, but once the question was out, hanging between them, Ladybug decided what was done, was done.Best to speak plainly in the first place. Everyone could take a lesson.
Across the kitchen, Holt’s dark eyebrows drew together, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“I don’t think I like what that question is implying.”
