Werewolf musk mingled with banshee perfume and something spicy an eagle shifter had smuggled in from a street vendor outside.
He should have been going over points and scripted answers in his head.
But all he could do was keep gazing over at Iris.
What happened in that bathroom?
Sure, she’d been in a bit of a grumbly mood when she’d gone in there with Arden. But she’d been tired. And Henry had been his usual self toward her.
When she’d emerged, though, she’d looked gorgeous. But pale. And those lovely eyes of hers? Haunted.
Had Arden said something to her?
He got the impression that the two of them were close. Maybe not as close as she clearly was with the witch, butclose enough that he didn’t think Arden would do or say something to make Iris look like that.
He tried to catch her gaze, to mouth her some reassurances.
Before he could untangle himself from Henry, though, he was being announced.
They had to go out.
To her credit, Iris slipped a mask over her face, hiding all that vulnerability behind it.
Even if he hated that she had to do that.
They moved out in sync toward some enthusiastic—and just as many reluctant—claps.
Finn waited for Iris to be seated in the chair on the raised stage before he took his own.
He glanced at her once again, finding her sitting exactly how Henry had told her to.
But her spine was ramrod straight.
Her smile was plastic.
He started to address the crowd even as he reached out, placing a hand on her knee and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
When he glanced around the crowd, he noticed her smile had relaxed slightly. Though he wasn’t sure if he could take credit for that, or if she was just fascinated by the crowd.
Living in the ocean, she’d had a very sheltered life, only being exposed to other sea-dwelling creatures. She’d never gotten a chance to meet all the paranormals that he’d known all his life.
She’d met fae and a gargoyle with him. The witch from the bookstore, Arden the demon, and a vampire dress shop owner. But it still left so many other paranormals she hadn’t been in direct contact with.
She was trying to be subtle, but he could see her looking at the people gathered, likely trying to figure out what kind of paranormals they might be. Her gaze caught on a man near the front—tall and fit in his casual gray tee and jeans, his sable hair styled kind of shaggy.
He was a werewolf, but Finn couldn’t help but wonder if Iris’s interest was just because of his shifting abilities or if it was a different kind of interest.
A cold pit formed in his stomach, heavy and undeniable. For the first time in his life, he felt the urge to get up and square up to a stranger. For no other reason than he suspected that Iris might find him attractive.
“Yes, Miss …” he prompted, pointing toward an ethereal high fae with white-blonde hair and a sharp triangular face.
“Folk. Hi. I actually come with an issue my kind and I have been struggling with for our whole lives.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What is the issue I can hopefully help with?”
“The fences,” Miss Folk said.
“Which fences?”
