Felix’s eyebrows rise towards his hairline. “And?”
“And he thought it was adorable that I tried to keep him out.” I grab the coffee beans and start refilling the grinder, the familiar routine soothing my frayed nerves. “He said I have claws and he wants me to use them on everyone, not just him. He also explained what feeding would involve.”
“Oh my Satan.” Felix’s eyes widen and he leans closer, practically vibrating with curiosity. “Tell me everything.”
Heat floods my face and spreads down my neck. “I’m not telling you everything!”
“Come on! For research purposes!” He’s grinning now, shameless and eager.
“You just want to know if it’s spicy.” I give him a flat look, but my lips are twitching, fighting a smile.
“Well, yes. Obviously.” He doesn’t even try to deny it. “So?”
My face is burning now, and I focus very intently on measuring out the coffee beans. “He said he would need to touch me. Kiss me. Make me feel good. And he would feed on the energy from that.”
“Holy shit.” Felix leans against the counter, looking fascinated and maybe a tiny bit envious. “That’s actually really hot.”
“Felix!” I protest, but it comes out weak.
“What? A powerful supernatural being wants to give you orgasms? Sign me up!”
“He’s a shadow creature!”
“What? I’ve dated worse.” He waves a hand dismissively, his many silver rings catching the light. “Remember that guy with the ferret?”
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and my stomach immediately sinks when I see the caller ID.
“I have to take this,” I mutter, already dreading what’s coming.
I step into the back room and answer, trying to inject some cheerfulness into my voice. “Hi, Mum.”
“Adam! Finally! I’ve been trying to reach you all morning!” Her voice is shrill with irritation, as if I’ve committed some terrible offense by not answering immediately.
It’s seven-fifteen. She’s been trying to reach me for maybe twenty minutes at most, but I don’t point this out. “Sorry, I was getting ready for work.”
“I’m hosting a dinner party next Saturday, and I need you to be there.” She doesn’t ask. Never asks. Just tells me what I need to do and expects me to comply.
“Mum, I work Saturdays.” I keep my voice even, reasonable. Already knowing it won’t matter.
“So get the day off.” She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like jobs are disposable and bosses are always understanding.
“I can’t just get the day off. We’re short-staffed as it is and my boss…”
“Adam.” Her voice takes on that sharp edge, the one that makes me feel like I’m seven years old again and have disappointed her in some fundamental way. “This is important. Your cousin James will be there with his new fiancée. The whole family wants to meet her.”
“That’s great for James, but I really can’t…” I try again, already feeling myself starting to cave under the pressure.
“You’re just being difficult.” She sighs heavily, as if I’m the greatest burden in her life. Like my existence is nothing but an inconvenience. “You know, James just got promoted again. Senior analyst now. Making very good money.”
Here we go. The inevitable comparison. I close my eyes and press my free hand against the wall, trying to ground myself.
“That’s great for James,” I repeat, my voice flat.
“He’s your age, Adam. Same school, same opportunities. But look at the difference between you two.” She doesn’t even try to soften the blow. The implication is clear. James is successful. James is doing something with his life. And I’m not.
I close my eyes tighter. “I’m happy for James.”
“Are you though? Are you happy serving coffee for minimum wage? Living in your uncle’s flat like a charity case?” The words hitlike physical blows, each one landing exactly where it hurts most. She knows my weaknesses, knows exactly where to press to cause maximum damage.
