“I didn’t think you had any.”
His mouth unlatched, and he laughed, a deep throaty sound that made my already rapid pulse strike my neck harder.
I crossed my arms, matching his stance. “Fine. Tell me. What type of girl gets an invitation into your harem?”
He sobered up. “My harem?”
“Back in the Duciba, your grandfather mentioned you needed to break up withallyour girlfriends.”
“Right.” Color crawled along the edge of his jaw. He rubbed his chin, as though trying to rub the blush out.
“So, Remo Farrow, what are your standards? Besides busty blondes.”
His head jerked back, and his hand fell away from his chin. “Busty blondes? What in Neverra are you talking about?”
“Lydia.” I wrinkled my nose at the memory of the waitress who’d all but thrown herself at Remo. “I think she drooled on my wine orb at our engagement revel.”
“Lydia’s a sweet girl, but nothing more.”
I racked my mind for other women I’d seen Remo out and about with but couldn’t come up with any. “Have you ever dated anyone?”
“Dating isn’t my style.”
“Whatisyour style?”
“No strings—or Cauldron—attached.”
I bobbed my head. “Commitment-phobic, then?”
“It’s not a phobia; it’s a life choice.”
I bobbed my head some more, not in understanding. On the contrary, I didn’t understand his life choiceat all. I’d always wanted what my parents had.
“Dating isn’t your style either, is it?”
I stopped nodding. “Why would you assume that?”
“Because I’ve never seen you out with the same guy twice. Well, besides your cousin, but you’re not dating him. Are you?”
“Um,yuck. And my not-dating isn’t by choice.”
He frowned.
“I’d like to have a boyfriend, but I have trouble relating to human men, and fae ones”—I lifted the hair off my neck and twisted it into a long rope . . . well, this was a weird conversation—“find me intimidating.”
“Intimidating?”
“I knowyoudon’t think I’m intimidating, but my dust scares Unseelies, and my blood scares Seelies off, thanks to you.”
He neither flinched nor apologized for his nasty rumor.
“And Daneelies, well there aren’t many of them, and they’re sort of a sect. They don’t mix.”
“Josh looked plenty happy to be around you.”
“Not that I was ever attracted to him, but now that he sent me here”—I gestured to the kitchen even though I obviously meant the world outside this kitchen—“he’s really at the bottom of my list of potential candidates.”
His arms loosened from their tight knot. “Good. Because he’s a scumbag.” He turned and pushed open the flap door, then held it open for me to step through. “If we ever get out of here, I’ll introduce you to a couple of guys who’d give up their dust to go out with you. And the only reason they haven’t asked you on a date is because you’re way out of their league, not because they’re scared you’ll inadvertently poison them with your blood.”
