Good thing I’ve built up a tolerance to most toxins. She won’t kill me, but damn, it could be one hell of a fun ride watching her try.
“Looks fine to me,” she argues, still frowning. “There isn’t even a scar. Do you have feeling in it? I didn’t think it went deep enough to affect the nerve endings, but I suppose-”
She cuts off with a yelp when I thrust my phone at her. “Let me take you to dinner. To thank you.”
Silence surrounds us in an oppressive blanket, but I refuse to drop her gaze. We’re going to dinner regardless; my girl’s growling stomach has cemented that fact. It’s just a matter of whether she’s going to come willingly or not.
“Are you serious?” she asks, looking adorably confused for some reason.
“As the plague.”
She searches my gaze for the longest time. “How did you know I worked here?”
“You nearly gave yourself hypothermia to save an octopus. Wasn't really that much of a leap to guess you worked with animals.”
That only serves to deepen her frown. “Why were you even looking for me in the first place?”
I match her frown. Whywouldn’tI search high and low for my dream girl? “Because I wanted to see you again.”
A look of genuine surprise flashes across her face that enrages me. That this stunning woman thinks it’s shocking that someone wants to be around her is a scathing indictment to everyone else in her life failing her beyond redemption.
Kiara’s gaze darts down to my inner wrist. “Don't tell me that when we crashed into each other,” she trails off, but I can gather what she’s wondering.
This day and age most people tend to choose their mates, grabbing a potion to cement the bonds and force matching marks to appear. Fated mates are rare, but theydostill happen. All it takes is a center touching their mate’s skin for their mark to appear as a match on their wrist. Cases like that? You don’t spit in the face of the Fates for bringing you together.
“I don't need a damn mark to tell me you’re mine,” I growl. “But if you do…” I snatch a permanent marker off the front desk and start sketching. Soon, the crescent moon compass that’s haunted my dreams appears on my skin. “There. Now that that's out of the way.” I cap the marker and toss it in the general direction of the counter. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”
Bright blue-green eyes blink back at me, stunned silent, but eventually, she reboots. “Before I answer, you should probably know,” she chews on the corner of her lower lip. “I have a fated mate, but we’re not bonded. I don’t think he’ll be a problem, but figured you should know what you’re signing up for.”
My heart stutters in my chest. Not from disappointment. From complete and utterrage.
“Why the hell isn't he here taking care of you, then?”
Her shoulders slump, and I’m about to apologize when she whispers, “He didn't want me.”
If she hadn’t already rewired my entire being, those four words would have done it.
“Well that settles it then, I'm just going to have to kill him.” As her eyes widen in surprise, I continue, “Does seven sound good for dinner? I have a couple of things I need to take care of first.”
She peers up at me in confusion. “You still want to date me? Seriously?”
Is she high? Maybe she's delirious from hunger. That's the only rational explanation.
“Sweet thing, there's nothing I've ever wanted more.”
Chapter 12
Kiara
“What do you think, Jules?”
After agonizing about it for far too long in the shower, I decided that simple was best. Comfort over style. It’s winter, and it’s just dinner. I’m not going to freeze my ass off trying to impress anyone. If Devlin actually wants to date me, better off making sure he doesn’t have high expectations from the get go. Sure, I can dress up once in a blue moon, but 95% of the time I live in leggings and t-shirts. I’m not going to wear something I care about getting dirty when I work with animals all day, and I’m sure as hell not dressing up to lounge around my house in the evenings. So a clean pair of fleece lined leggings, a casual, grey sweater dress, and a bit of eyeliner it is. Nice, but stillme.
And if this isn’t good enough, I’d rather find out now.
Julius Squeezer slithers down from his current nest on the ledge of the window about ten feet above my head. Whoever lived here before me must’ve been some sort of avian shifter, because the entire house is high ceilings with wide, bench seat window ledges perfect for a full-sized person to curl up andread if they can find a way up there, or an animal to make a comfortable nest on. I really shouldn’t have stolen Jules from the hatchery I worked in before I ran away from home, but in my defense, his egg had been abandoned and I was the only one trying to save him.
It wasn’t until he hatched that I realized why his parents dipped out, and that it was averygood thing I stole the egg when I left. He wasn’t a phoenix at all, his parents pulled a cuckoo and snuck their egg into one of the nests. That, or one of the phoenixes brought it back from the tunnels without realizing. Either way, it’s a good reminder that life throws us curveballs, and sometimes embracing them can be a blessing in disguise.
