Chapter 10
Dinner for Two
I’m setting the table for two and trying not to panic.
Plates. Cutlery. Napkins folded into triangles because I watched a YouTube tutorial and it seemed romantic.
A small vase with supermarket flowers that cost me eight pounds that I couldn’t really afford.
Two glasses of water because I don’t have wine and even if I did, I have no idea if shadow creatures drink alcohol.
The flat smells of vegetable curry. I’ve been cooking for the past hour, following a recipe on my phone with the kind of intense focus I’m pretty sure is usually reserved for defusing bombs.
I’ve skipped all the salt bits, so it’s probably terrible, especially since I’m not a good cook to start with.
But it’s the thought that counts, right?
Right?
I step back and survey my work. The table looks nice.
Cosy, even. The fairy lights I strung up yesterday cast a warm glow over everything.
I swept and hoovered up all the salt from the protective circles, though I keep finding stray crystals everywhere.
One just crunched under my foot. I wince and bend down to pick it up.
At least the crystals didn’t seem to hurt Hex. Unlike the salt. I shudder at the memory of his scream, the way his form splintered. I still feel terrible about that.
I place the crystal on the windowsill with the others I’ve collected today. My flat is slowly becoming a crystal museum.
The curry is bubbling away on the stove.
I give it another stir and check the time on my phone.
Seven forty-five. I’m being ridiculous. For a start, I’m definitely making dinner far too early, because Hex usually shows up much later.
Though “usually” is a bit of a stretch considering I’ve only known him for less than a week.
Less than a week and I’ve let him feed on me. Less than a week and I’m cooking him dinner like we’re in some kind of relationship.
Are we in a relationship? Is that what this is?
I don’t know. That’s the problem. I don’t know what we are or what he wants or if last night meant anything to him beyond a meal.
My stomach twists anxiously. What if he doesn’t show up? Despite saving me today. What if he got what he needed and now he’s done with me? What if I’m sitting here with my stupid curry and my stupid flowers waiting for someone who isn’t coming?
I’m spiralling. I know I’m spiralling. But I can’t seem to stop.
The temperature drops.
I freeze, wooden spoon in hand. My breath mists in the air. The fairy lights flicker.
Oh thank god.
Shadows pool in the corner of my kitchen, gathering and twisting. But this time they’re different. Faster. More controlled. They coalesce into a familiar shape with practiced ease.
Hex materialises, and my heart stops.
He’s more solid than I’ve ever seen him. No flickering. No translucent edges. He looks completely real, completely there. And he’s gorgeous. Stupidly, unfairly, devastatingly gorgeous.
His hair is the color of the darkest night sky, falling in thick waves to his shoulders.
His face is still made of shadows, but also all sharp angles and high cheekbones.
His eyes are still glowing red, but softer now, more like embers than flames.
He’s wearing black leather trousers and boots and a fitted black shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he has the body of someone who was carved from marble by a sculptor with very specific fantasies.
I’m staring. I know I’m staring. But I can’t help it. How is someone this attractive? How is this real? How did someone who looks like a dark prince from a fantasy novel end up in my tiny flat wanting anything to do with me?
“Hello, My Love.” His voice is warm. Amused.
Heat floods my face. “Hi.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “You cooked.”
“Yeah.” I turn back to the stove because I can’t look at him anymore without combusting. “We’re having dinner. Together. Like civilised people.”
“Are we?”
“Yes.” I dish up the curry with shaking hands, focusing very intently on not spilling it everywhere. “Because whatever this is, whatever we’re doing, I’m not going to be a situationship or a booty call or friends with benefits or whatever else people call it these days.”
I can feel him watching me. My face is burning so hot I’m surprised the curry isn’t evaporating.
“If you’re going to keep showing up in my flat and feeding on me and protecting me from thugs and calling me ‘My Love’, then we’re going to do this properly.
” I carry both plates to the table and set them down with more force than necessary.
“We’re going to have dinner. We’re going to talk. We’re going to be civilised.”
Silence.
I risk a glance at him. He’s grinning. A wide, delighted grin that makes him look younger and even more unfairly attractive.
“You find this amusing?” I demand.
“I find you adorable.” He moves to the table with that fluid grace and sits down. “Very well. Let’s be civilised.”
I drop into the chair opposite him, my heart still racing. “I didn’t put any salt in it, but I still don’t know if you can actually eat human food. But if you can’t, you can just sit there and pretend.”
Hex picks up his fork and takes a bite of curry. He chews thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving mine. “It’s delicious.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” His smile softens. “It’s very good, Adam. Thank you for cooking for me.”
I don’t know what to do with that sincerity. It makes my chest feel tight and warm and strange. I look down at my own plate and start eating just to have something to do with my hands.
We eat in silence for a few moments. It’s awkward. Painfully awkward. I have no idea what to say. No idea how to do this. I’ve never had dinner with a shadow prince before. There’s no etiquette guide for this situation.
“How was work today?” Hex asks, breaking the silence.
I blink at him. “You already know. You were there. Sort of.”
“I know what happened. I don’t know how you feel about it.”
Oh. That’s surprisingly thoughtful.
“It was terrifying,” I admit. “Those men were going to hurt me. Maybe worse. I’ve never been in a situation like that before.”
“But you stood up to them.” There’s pride in his voice. “You said no.”
“And then you saved me.” I meet his eyes. “Thank you. For that.”
He inclines his head. “Always.”
The word settles over me like a promise. Always. As if this isn’t temporary. As if he’s planning to stick around.
I take another bite of curry, feeling slightly less anxious.
Hex is easy to talk to once you get past the whole otherworldly beauty thing. He asks about my day, about Felix, about the customers. He laughs at my descriptions of the weird orders people make. He listens like he actually cares.
Eventually, I work up the courage to ask what I’ve been wondering. “Are you okay? After feeding last night?”
His eyes gleam. A filthy grin spreads across his face. “I’m much better. Though I’m going to need to feed several more times before I regain my full strength.”
Heat floods through me. Several more times. Right. Of course.
“How many more times?” I hear myself ask.
“Mmm.” He leans back in his chair, considering. “Hard to say. It depends on how thoroughly you let me feast.”
I choke on my curry. He’s doing this on purpose. He has to be.
Hex chuckles and mercifully changes the subject. “This is nice. Having dinner together. Being civilised.”
“It is,” I agree quietly.
We finish eating, and I clear the plates. When I come back to the table, Hex is still sitting there, looking completely at home in my tiny flat. Like he belongs here.
I sit back down and take a deep breath. “Can I ask you about the curse?”
His expression shutters slightly. The playfulness dims. “What do you wish to know?”
“Everything. You said you pissed someone off. What happened?”
Hex is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is carefully neutral. “There was a war. In the Shadow Realm. My father was the king. He made choices that not everyone agreed with. There was a coup. He was overthrown.”
“I’m sorry,” I say softly.
“Don’t be. My father was not a good king.” Hex’s jaw tightens. “But those who overthrew him are worse. They bound my powers. Stripped me of most of my strength. Cursed me so I couldn’t feed normally. Then they exiled me here. To this realm. To slowly fade away.”
Horror washes over me. “They were going to let you die.”
“Yes.”
“But then you found me. The bond. The loophole.”
“Yes.” His eyes find mine. “You saved my life, Adam.”
Guilt crashes over me like a wave. “And I threw salt at you. And I was scared. And I made you wait behind wards while you were starving.”
“Adam…”
“I’m sorry.” My throat is tight. My eyes are burning. “You went through all of that. You lost everything. And you still kept smiling. You still called me adorable and protected me, and made me feel like I matter. And I just…”
“Stop.” Hex reaches across the table and takes my hand. His touch is warm and solid, and real. “There is nothing to apologise for. You were frightened. You were protecting yourself. Those are reasonable responses to a shadow creature appearing in your bedroom.”
“But…”
“No.” His grip tightens slightly. “You gave me exactly what I asked for when I needed it most. You broke your protections. You offered your hand. You let me in. That took courage, Adam. Real courage.”
I stare at our joined hands. His fingers are long and elegant, and his skin is so surprisingly warm for someone made of shadows.
“You’re too nice to me,” I mumble.
“I’m exactly as nice as you deserve.”
We sit like that for a moment, hands clasped across the table. The fairy lights cast dancing shadows on the walls. The curry pot is still warm on the stove. Everything feels surreal and domestic and impossible all at once.
I swallow hard and force myself to ask the question that’s been nagging at me. “So you’re going to feed on me until you get your full strength back. Then what?”
Hex’s expression changes. The warmth drains away, replaced by something cold and sharp and dangerous.
His eyes start to glow brighter, that ember red intensifying until they’re burning like coals.
A smile spreads across his face. Not the amused grin from earlier.
This is something else. Something predatory and fierce and absolutely terrifying.
When he speaks, his voice is low and rough. Almost a growl.
“I’m getting my throne back.”