I’m tempted. I’ll admit that much.
Even spoken so harshly, I’m tempted.
But deep down, I don’t want my first time to be prompted by anger and jealousy, and in my heart of hearts, I don’t want it to be with Antoni. Dante and I may not be dating, and I may not mean all that much to him, considering the company he keeps, but he means something to me and my silly heart.
Antoni and Dante may be able to dissociate their bodies from their hearts, but I cannot.
“I take that as a no.” Frustration beats down the harsh line of Antoni’s shoulders as he jumps onto his deck. Before disappearing through the door that leads down to the single cabin, he calls out, “He’s going to break your heart.”
Maybe.I choose to believe he won’t, though. I choose to believe that the only reason he’s still entertaining other women is because he doesn’t think I can beitfor him. “What do you care about what happens to my heart, Antoni?”
His fingers are on the handle, the door half-open. His spine stiffens. “You’re right. I don’t. We established that earlier, didn’t we?”
What I hate above his bitterness is that I’m the reason for it.
“All I care about are fish and pussy.”
“Don’t say that. It’s not true. You care, and one day, you’ll find someone worthy of all that love you have to give.”
His blue eyes sear a path to mine. “I wish you the same.”
Although it sounds kind, his parting words are bladed reminders that he doesn’t believe Dante a worthy recipient of my love.
He steps into his cabin and shuts the door with such force, it makes his boat rock from side to side. I raise my face to the tapestry of stars shining over Luce, waiting for the burn of my lids and throat to subside.
It was the right decision.
If Dante hadn’t come home . . . if Bronwen hadn’t spoken of our tangled future, I may have succumbed to the charming fisherman, but the fact is, Dante is home.
Before rising, I lean over and dip my hands inside the water. In spite of its murkiness, the desire to glide beneath the surface clangs inside my marrow.
Ripples swell around my hands, and I blink because I think . . . I think—
A scaled pink muzzle pokes out, followed by a long neck ringed with white.
“What a strange creature you are.”
Minimus snuffles my palm, on the lookout for a treat, and I laugh. I scratch under his cheek, then lift the top off my casserole dish and pinch a soft leek. I hold it up to him, and he snatches it from my fingers.
That rattling noise he makes when happy agitates the water, and his dorsal scales fold in on themselves.
Glancing around the pier to make sure no one is watching, I give him one last stroke, then straighten, heft up Defne’s pot, and head south to the first of the six bridges I must cross to reach my island.
As I walk along the water, I catch the glimmer of scales. Minimus is following me like he does most nights, as though to keep me safe. And maybe he is. Or maybe he’s just strolling the waters for the pleasure of my company.
Whatever his reason for shadowing me, I’m grateful for his presence. Halfway home, I pass a gondola filled with Fae chanting bawdy songs. One of them offers to escort me the rest of the way to my house. I turn him down, knowing gallantry isn’t his intent. He asks again, his voice louder. Again, I say no.
My rejection makes him call me something distasteful.
“Gorbellied clotpole,” I mutter under my breath, willing the water to churn around his lacquered boat and rock it.
When wavelets form, I stop walking and hold my breath.
“What the bloody underworld?” the man sputters, clutching the sides of the boat along with the rest of his now silent friends. “Did you just use magic, scazza?”
Did I? I stare at my hands. No blue sparks scamper along my palms but perhaps some appeared earlier?
I uncover the answer a second later when a long pink tail slaps the water beside the boat, propelling it into the embankment.
