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Ethan’s smile widened. “I was thinking more along the lines of an overprotective cat, but golden retriever works too.”
The café door opened again and Fiona rushed in fifteen minutes late, her coat half-buttoned and her hair escaping from a ponytail. “I’m so sorry! The bus was late, and then I got off at the wrong stop, and…Ethan!”
She launched herself at their booth, pulling Ethan into a hug that made Rook’s shadows tense before he forced them still. Ethan returned the embrace stiffly, his shoulders rigid in that way that meant he was tolerating touch for social obligation rather than comfort.
Fiona released him and slid into the booth beside Ethan, effectively trapping him against the wall. “You saved my life.”
“My friends handled the actual rescue operation,” Ethan said immediately. “I provided logistical support.”
“You tracked down a trafficking ring and got me out of that warehouse.” Fiona’s eyes were bright. “Don’t minimize that.”
“I’m not minimizing. I’m accurately attributing credit to…”
“Ethan.” Fiona grabbed his hand. “Thank you.”
Ethan’s face flushed, and he adjusted his glasses. “You’re welcome.”
Rook liked Fiona instantly. Anyone who made Ethan smile like that – with genuine warmth - deserved points.
Fiona turned her attention to Rook, and her expression shifted from gratitude to curiosity. “You must be Rook.”
“That’s me.” Rook offered what he hoped was a friendly smile. His shadows were currently wrapped around the table leg, vibrating with the effort of not investigating Fiona’s purse. “It’s good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Ethan’s told me basically nothing about you, so I’m going in blind here.” Fiona flagged down a server. “What do you want? Coffee? Food? I’m buying. You saved my life, this is literally the least I can do.”
“You don’t need to…” Ethan started.
“I’m buying your coffee, and Rook’s coffee, and we’re getting pastries because I insist.” Fiona ordered for the table with the confidence of someone who’d worked in the service industry long enough to know exactly what she wanted. When the server left, she leaned forward. “So. How did you two meet?”
Rook froze, his mind blank. In nine hundred years, he had never, not once, needed to explain himself to a human who wasn’t his mate.
“We met outside the Garrison,” Ethan said smoothly. “Rook intervened when Brad was being difficult.”
“Brad Hutchins? Hedge fund Brad?”
“The same.”
Fiona’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”
Rook’s brain caught up to the conversation. “I suggested he leave.”
“Rook works in private security consulting,” Ethan added. “He’s very effective at conflict resolution.”
Private security consulting? That was…actually perfect. Rook filed that away for future use.
“How long have you been together?” Fiona asked.
“A few weeks,” Ethan said.
Rook felt the understatement through their bond. A few weeks. Not “we’re cosmically bonded and separation causes physical deterioration” or “the light in his soul literally anchors my darkness.” Just a few weeks.
Fiona got a dreamy expression. “That’s so romantic. He stepped in to protect you, and now you’re dating. That’s like something from a movie.”
Under the table, Rook’s shadows preened with smug satisfaction. One tendril stretched toward the sugar dispenser, knocking it sideways. Rook caught it before it hit the floor. But it was too fast and too smooth. His hand moved at speeds humans couldn’t track, and Fiona’s eyes narrowed slightly because she’d noticed…
“So you’re not going back to the Garrison?” Ethan asked, his voice pitched perfectly to reclaim Fiona’s attention.
Fiona blinked, refocusing. “Gods, no. I did a couple of shifts back there because I had rent to pay, but once I heard you quit, I was out. I recently got a job at Third Street Books. It’s quieter, the pay is better, and nobody tries to traffic me. That’s really my only requirement right now.”
