Page 14 of The Unseelie Wish
“Do you…want me to take her a letter or something?” There was concern in Puck’s voice. And if Izael had the energy to pay any real attention to the bastard, he might have been a little bit flattered.
Instead, all he really felt was that same, chewed-up-and-spat-out hollowness in his chest. “Go away, Puck.” The order was half-hearted. Izael was tired. He needed to sleep.
“Yeah. ’Kay.” Silence. Blessed silence.
Izael lifted his arm to see that the deranged imp had, in fact, left him alone. Good. Shifting his form back into his true shape, he slithered up the tree that sat at the center of his home and crawled into the boat he used as a bed.
It still smelled a little of her.
Whether that made everything better or worse, he didn’t know. Both at the same time, it seemed. With a heavy sigh, he curled up under and over the pillows and willed himself to sleep.
Alex didn’t love him.
And he didn’t know if anything had hurt so badly before in his life.
“Gah!” Alex jumped back in shock as she rounded the corner into her kitchen. She put her hand over her heart. “Holy shit.”
“Forgive me.” Bayodan smiled and bowed at the waist. “I thought perhaps you knew we would be here.”
“I knew, I just wasn’t—” She let out a breath. “Shit. Sorry. An eight-foot-tall Goat Dracula standing at the fridge was not what I was expecting to see today.”
Cruinn, the collection of broken glass, was sitting on her sofa, idly playing with the TV remote. “Goat Dracula?”
“It’s a compliment.” Alex went to pour herself a cup of coffee. It seemed Goatula liked to drink tea. “Dracula’s a vampire.” She paused. “I wonder if he’s real.”
“Would you like to know, or would you prefer it to remain a mystery?” Bayodan didn’t seem the tiniest bit offended by the comparison to the bloodsucking Count. His little knowing smile made Alex really suspicious of the answer.
“Maybe someday later you can tell me. I don’t need more to think about.” She walked over to an armchair in the living room—her living room. It was still weird to think about it that way. Izael had stolen it from some rich guy after turning him into an oil painting and had just gifted her an enormous, five-story brownstone in the heart of Boston. The building would be worth millions of dollars. And now it was…just hers.
Pumpkin—I’m sorry, Lord Pumpkin, Destroyer of Worlds, Ender of Kings, Devourer of Vermin—the previously-stray orange tabby cat Izael had found for her, crawled into her lap a second later, not wanting to miss the opportunity to use her like a heated blanket.
She petted him, happy for the company. She was glad Puck kept his word and the animal seemed very well cared for. Pumpkin yawned widely, turned around a few times, then flopped down to begin cleaning himself.
Sitting in the chair, drinking her coffee with her cat, and being babysat by two incredibly bizarre Unseelie…things. It left her with a really important question—what now?
She’d asked for a week to figure out what to do and to take stock of her feelings. But now that she had that break, she knew her little pseudo “vacation” was going to go by way too quickly with almost nothing to show for it, if she didn’t get to work.
There had to be a way to out-scheme Izael and Valroy. She didn’t know if she stood a chance, really—they were thousands of years old, and she was just…a singer-turned-barista. She had to think.
But every time she dwelled on Izael, she remembered just how mesmerizing he was—especially in his true form. She remembered their bouts of passionate sex and fought hard not to blush. That was the last thing she needed.
Cruinn was smiling at her in a strange way. Okay, fine, they were made of glass—like, bits and pieces of glass, which made them extremely weird to begin with—but the smile seemed almost like…she wasn’t sure. Proud? Envious? No. It was like the smile an old woman would give a young couple in love. Something like smiling at a memory of themselves back in their prime.
“What?” She had to ask.
“Nothing.” Cruinn smiled a little broader.
“There’s something.”
“Yes, but I do not think you want to hear it.” They chuckled. “You seem to be in quite the cross mood.”
“She has every right, my love.” Bayodan finished making himself a cup of tea with his one hand. Alex felt like a little bit of a jerk for not asking if he needed help, but she also didn’t want to insult him. He seemed like he knew what he was doing. “Izael has been unkind to her.”
“By her standards,” Cruinn replied with a shrug. “By his standards, he has been quite the gentleman.”
“He eats people whole. His bar is pretty low.” She rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee. Blessed caffeine. She cringed at the memory of the teal line that bisected Izael’s chest splitting open, revealing rows of teeth, as he had swallowed that fae spy alive. She paused and forced herself to change the subject. The more she thought about him, the more confused she became. “Also, sorry for lying about my name. And pretending I was Unseelie.” She’d met the two weird Unseelie when she was “Alaeni,” Izael’s Unseelie date.
“I knew,” Cruinn smiled brightly, “but I did not tell a soul.”