Page 17 of The Devil’s Feather

My skin burst into flames, and my mouth fell open. “You⁠—”

Rafael smiled sweetly and shut the car door in my face.

1 “All I Really Want” – Alanis Morissette

2 “Chokehold” by Sleep Token

5

AMBROSIA PLANS

Icould not concentrate on anything the next day. Every time I tried, Rafael’s words pierced my brain. His lips captured mine. “Think of me”—his arms tightened around me—“when you go home”—his voice buzzed in my sternum—“and touch yourself.”

I kept imagining his hard body. The swell of his muscles under my hands. The fiery intensity of his eyes. A man that size had to be well-endowed if he was at all proportional. He certainly carried himself with that kind of confidence. Goddamn, if this was a play, Rafael was indeed the maestro.

He seemed too raw for those kinds of games, though. Too honest. God, I hoped so. It was too soon. Way too soon. But there was no stopping the flood of feelings I had for this man.

Nor the flood of desire. It was a fever that refused to break. The visceral buzz of his voice in my ribs, that kiss… My vibrator got a solid workout. So did my favorite monster dildo.

I went on the offensive and texted him. At least this way he couldn’t see my furious blush.

Me: i did wshat you told me

Rafael: Oh? And did you dream?

“I dreamed of you, asshole,” I told the phone screen.

Me: thats for me to know. what did you do after I left? did you take your own advice?

“Do you want me as much as I want you?” I asked aloud. “Is that even possible? What do you see in me, Trickster God? Will you steal my soul and feed it to your music?”

The typing bubble stilled long enough to make me anxious.

Rafael: This place feels empty without you.

Rafael: Dinner tonight instead?

Me: depends. am i on the menu?

Rafael: Do you want to be?

Goddamn it. How was he making me wet with so little effort?

Me: …maybe

Rafael: 6pm then. No tomatoes, I promise.

Apart from letting Deandra and Annie know I was taking another swing at being axe-murdered, I did nothing but flutter in circles until it was time to leave. Dee steered me into putting on a soft, white, cropped sweater and high-waisted jeans.

“Make him work for it, since he already got the booby dress for free,” she insisted, handing me my Doc Martens and the wallet I’d already misplaced three times that day. “Just be careful, ok?”

She had every right to be concerned. Not only over a strange man, but for my history with assholes. Sensitive, tortured artists sucked me right in with their wounded-bird earnesty. And the vast majority were cheating pieces of shit.

Was I upping the ante only to fall farther and be hurt worse than ever when Rafael Nazim inevitably tired of me like the others had?

6

THE WINDUP GIRL