Exquisite Torture
It’s not until we’ve been back for about an hour that I remember something important.
I walk into the kitchen, curlers in my hair, and find Rowan on his favorite perch. “What do you mean your name is Rowan Neilfellow?”
He blinks his golden eyes at me. “Why do you look like Medusa?”
“They’re not snakes—they’re curlers.”
“Did you forget what decade you were born in?”
“I need you to focus.”
“Yes, I’m related to Ash,” he admits, but it doesn’t sound like he likes it.
“But Ash is high fae.”
“I’m aware.”
“And you’re a mage.”
“I think we’ve established this already.”
Undaunted, I keep pressing. “What are you to the family? An uncle? A cousin?”
He stares at me, not impressed with the conversation. Finally, he says, “Cousin.”
“How distant?”
Before Rowan can answer, there’s a knock at the door.
My hands fly to my hair. “Who’s that?”
“How should I know? I’m in here with you.”
“I can’t answer the door like this!”
“I certainly wouldn’t.”
“Go see who it is!” I hiss.
“Am I your butler now?” he grumbles, but he disappears out the owl door.
While he’s gone, there’s another knock.
I begin pulling hot rollers from my hair, leaving them on the buffet at the side of the room.
Rowan returns. “It’s Ryder.”
“Ryder?” I ask, surprised. “What’s he doing here?”
“Why do you insist upon asking me questions I cannot answer?”
Rolling my eyes, I leave Rowan in the kitchen and open the door.
The handsome elf’s gaze moves to my hair. “I like it. Very vintage.”
“What?”
He glances inside, noticing the mirror on the hall tree, and gestures toward it.
My hair is in tight, fat curls all around my head, making me look like the pixie version of a 1930s Hollywood starlet.
“I wasn’t finished,” I explain. “I took the rollers out in a hurry, worried you might be—”
I cut myself off, not wanting to feed the town’s rumor mill.
“I might be Ash?” he guesses with a smirk.
Well, so much for that.
“Never mind,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you might like a ride to the meeting.” He gestures toward the waiting horse and small carriage just outside my gate.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” I say.
He chuckles. “You will after a while, but you’ll probably miss a car heater in winter.”
“How did Laverna get to town when it was snowy? Surely, she didn’t ride her bike in that.”
“She usually came into town with Ash.”
Speaking of Ash, he appears through the trees, heading this way down the lane on foot.
“Uh oh,” Ryder jokes quietly. “My competition has arrived.”
But there’s no competition. I can already feel the glow of my magic responding to the councilman.
Ryder notices too. “What’s this? Are you sparkling for him again?”
“Shut up,” I mutter.
“I’m jealous.” He grins, turning toward the lane to wave a friendly greeting. “From the way he’s scowling at me, I assume the rumors must be true.”
“What rumors?”
“That ice-cold Ash is taken with our pretty new summer pixie.”
That doesn’t help with the glowing situation.
“I can tell when I’m about to be a third wheel.” Ryder walks down my garden path. “I’ll see you at the meeting. Don’t forget you promised to sit by me—you’re not getting out of that.”
The elf pauses at the gate to talk to Ash, but the brief conversation is too quiet for me to hear. Whatever Ryder says chases the scowl from Ash’s face.
Ryder drives down the lane just as Ash reaches me at the front step.
“Hi,” I say, my arms suddenly feeling awkward, like I’m not sure what to do with them.
“Good evening.”
Ash is dressed in a gray waistcoat this time, and his blond hair is back as usual. He looks fussy.
Hot fussy.
“Hudson mentioned you went to Albany today,” he says. “Did you have a good drive?”
“I did.”
He smiles, but his eyes are slightly narrowed. “I trust your tea shop will be ready to open by the festival?”
I beckon him forward, inviting him in. “That’s a polite way to call me a slacker.”
“It was an unrelated question.”
“Sure.” I lead him into the kitchen, noting that Rowan is already gone. “Do you want tea? We still have some time before we need to leave for town, and I owe you today’s cup.”
“Tea would be fine.” He sits at the table. “Would you like to accompany me to the meeting?”
“I was hoping you’d ask since you chased off my ride.” I fill the kettle with water. “What did Ryder say to you before he left?”
Ash looks down at the table, hiding a smirk. “Nothing important.”
Pretty sure they were talking about me, I walk over to him. “No answer, no tea.”
I smile so he knows I’m joking.
Ash looks up at me, his dark brown eyes studying my face. “He said you started glowing when you saw me.”
“Oh.” I avert my eyes, sighing because this is far more of a problem than it ever was back home.
And then I spot the rollers on the buffet and remember I look like Medusa.
I turn away from the councilman. Quickly, I run my fingers through my hair, hoping to soften the curls.
“What’s the matter?” Ash asks.
I can feel his eyes on me even though I’m not looking at him. “Nothing. I was just in the middle of doing my hair when Ryder came to the door, and I need to comb through the curls.”
Ash rises. “With your fingers?”
“You make do with what you have.”
He steps close, towering over me, and then runs his hands through my hair.
I go still, and my arms fall to my sides. Swallowing, I look up at him.
Butterflies riot in my stomach, and I know he’s very aware of the way he’s affecting me.
“You seem embarrassed by your magic,” he says, his eyes on my unruly hair, “but I don’t think you realize what you do to me. You wouldn’t be self-conscious if you knew.”
“Do to you?”
He lowers his eyes to mine. “Your summer sunshine is already nearly impossible to resist, and then you sparkle for me—just for me. It’s going to be my undoing.”
I blink at him. My stomach tightens as he moves his hand to the back of my neck.
“I missed you today,” he says.
“I was only gone for a few hours.”
“Every time I saw the closed sign on your teashop, I felt despondent.”
“And how do you feel now?” I whisper.
“Happy.” He leans down, his mouth close to mine. “So happy.”
“Imagine how happy you’d be if you kissed me,” I say, breathless. As I wait for him to respond, I revel in the cool, crisp feel of his magic.
Ash backs up just enough our gazes meet, and he smiles. His eyes crinkle as he studies me. Softly, he runs his thumb over the back of my neck.
Then he angles his head, leans in, and…
My eyes flutter shut when his lips meet mine. I reach for the back of a dining room chair, so wobbly, feeling like I’m going to scatter into a million effervescent pieces. Ash’s magic twines with mine, hot and cold, so perfect it makes my skin tingle.
His warm mouth lingers only a few seconds, and then he pulls back. Eyes closed, he winces.
“Are you all right?” I whisper, fear suddenly dousing my mood. “It wasn’t terrible, was it?”
And then he chuckles, warmly, like that’s the most ridiculous question. He opens his eyes and caresses my neck again. “Far from it.”
I swallow, nodding, hating that I feel so vulnerable. “You looked like you were in pain.”
“More like exquisite torture.” He brings his other hand to my shoulder. “I’ve never experienced anything like you.”
I search his face. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
“I think you’ve lied to me.” A smile plays at his perfect, sharply angled lips.
“What?” I breathe.
“You’re a siren, aren’t you?”
I laugh at the ridiculous question, my nerves ebbing somewhat.
He draws in a deep breath and then slowly exhales, nodding once to himself as he steps back, making sure I’m steady before his hands leave me. “We should go.”
“What about tea?” I ask, my voice wobbly.
“I don’t trust myself to linger here any longer.” His words stir up more sparkles, and he smiles as he watches them shimmer around me. “I have to lead the meeting tonight, and if you keep glowing, we’ll never make it into town.”
“You like it that much?” I ask, my magic making me feel strangely powerful—maybe for the first time in my life.
He makes a dark noise. “I like it very much.”
I try, but fail, to contain my ridiculous grin. “What about my summer sunshine? You don’t mind that I’m forcing joy upon you?”
He slides his hands into his trouser pockets, his subtle smile becoming an equally subtle smirk. “Manipulate me all you want.”
I shiver, liking that answer too much. “You’re right—we should probably go.”
He nods.
“I’m going to…” I walk backward, accidentally bumping into the kitchen island. “Finish my hair. You can wait here, if you like. Or in the living room. Or outside, if that’s more comfortable.” I’m starting to babble. “I’ll be right back.”
He glances at the time on the oven display. “Hurry, or we’ll be late.”
“Yes. I’m going now.”
Before I can make a fool of myself, I dart off to my aunt’s ultra-feminine, rose-covered bathroom. When I see my reflection in the gilded mirror, I nearly gasp.
Sparkles swirl in the air around me like a cloud of glittering gnats.
I look like an animated fairy in a children’s movie.
Pressing my hands to my face, I laugh quietly. Then I take a deep breath and try to salvage my curling mess of hair.