“Yeah,” I whisper. “Yeah, I think he does.”
He grins and starts sweeping up the glass. “Told you he’d be back. Because damn, your booty is so fine he gotta protect it.”
I cringe, but despite Felix’s crudeness, I realise I’m smiling. A real, genuine smile that reaches my eyes and makes my chest feel warm and light.
It wasn’t a one-night stand.
Chapter 10
Dinner for Two
I’msettingthetablefor two and trying not to panic.
Plates. Cutlery. Napkins folded into triangles because I watched a YouTube tutorial and it seemed romantic. A small vase with supermarket flowers that cost me eight pounds that I couldn’t really afford. Two glasses of water because I don’t have wine and even if I did, I have no idea if shadow creatures drink alcohol.
The flat smells of vegetable curry. I’ve been cooking for the past hour, following a recipe on my phone with the kind of intense focus I’m pretty sure is usually reserved for defusing bombs. I’ve skipped all the salt bits, so it’s probably terrible, especially since I’m not a good cook to start with. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
Right?
I step back and survey my work. The table looks nice. Cosy, even. The fairy lights I strung up yesterday cast a warm glow over everything. I swept and hoovered up all the salt from the protective circles, though I keep finding stray crystals everywhere. One just crunched under my foot. I wince and bend down to pick it up.
At least the crystals didn’t seem to hurt Hex. Unlike the salt. I shudder at the memory of his scream, the way his form splintered. I still feel terrible about that.
I place the crystal on the windowsill with the others I’ve collected today. My flat is slowly becoming a crystal museum.
The curry is bubbling away on the stove. I give it another stir and check the time on my phone. Seven forty-five. I’m being ridiculous. For a start, I’m definitely making dinner far too early, because Hex usually shows up much later. Though “usually” is a bit of a stretch considering I’ve only known him for less than a week.
Less than a week and I’ve let him feed on me. Less than a week and I’m cooking him dinner like we’re in some kind of relationship.
Are we in a relationship? Is that what this is?
I don’t know. That’s the problem. I don’t know what we are or what he wants or if last night meant anything to him beyond a meal.
My stomach twists anxiously. What if he doesn’t show up? Despite saving me today. What if he got what he needed and now he’s done with me? What if I’m sitting here with my stupid curry and my stupid flowers waiting for someone who isn’t coming?
I’m spiralling. I know I’m spiralling. But I can’t seem to stop.
The temperature drops.
I freeze, wooden spoon in hand. My breath mists in the air. The fairy lights flicker.
Oh thank god.
Shadows pool in the corner of my kitchen, gathering and twisting. But this time they’re different. Faster. More controlled. They coalesce into a familiar shape with practiced ease.
Hex materialises, and my heart stops.
He’s more solid than I’ve ever seen him. No flickering. No translucent edges. He looks completely real, completely there. And he’s gorgeous. Stupidly, unfairly, devastatingly gorgeous.
His hair is the color of the darkest night sky, falling in thick waves to his shoulders. His face is still made of shadows, but also all sharp angles and high cheekbones. His eyes are still glowingred, but softer now, more like embers than flames. He’s wearing black leather trousers and boots and a fitted black shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he has the body of someone who was carved from marble by a sculptor with very specific fantasies.
I’m staring. I know I’m staring. But I can’t help it. How is someone this attractive? How is this real? How did someone who looks like a dark prince from a fantasy novel end up in my tiny flat wanting anything to do with me?
“Hello, My Love.” His voice is warm. Amused.
Heat floods my face. “Hi.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “You cooked.”
