Chapter 32 Bad At Talking
Bad At Talking
“We’re not done talking about this,” Caelum murmured in her ear.
He fought the impulse to lick up the length of it.
They’d left the restaurant a few blocks behind them.
He’d ended up kissing her again before they left the rooftop, pinning her to the wall not far from the curtained door and leaning into her with his body and magic until he could barely make himself stop.
It hadn’t been enough. It hadn’t been anywhere near enough, and then it had been time to leave. Since then, every drop of blood in his body seemed to have found its way to his cock.
“We’re not done,” he repeated, softer, pulling her with him down the street, his arms wrapped around her in the wool coat.
“…Just so you know,” he added, licking her ear in spite of himself.
She shivered, but only glanced up at him as she walked, her eyes back to that near-obsidian color that made them nearly impossible to read.
He wondered again if she’d done that on purpose.
Maddening, frustrating, psychosis-inducing witch.
He wanted to take her back to his room, but he wanted to watch the fireworks with her first. He wanted to pull her into his lap while they were going off and snog and grope her and rub his cock on her. Fuck her friends.
Fuck Mocking and his disapproving looks and grimaces.
They’d only been walking for a little while down the cobblestone street when he realized they weren’t running late, at least not as late as he’d believed.
They’d rushed out of the restaurant when they saw fireworks light up the night sky down below, but now Bones looked around and realized those must have been smaller, likely private displays, not the big one over Academy Square.
Now that they were nearing the center of town, the stretch of the sky above the pointed roofs looked dark, empty of anything but stars.
He knew they’d likely used spells to clear away most of the clouds.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “We should have ordered another bottle of wine.”
He should have gone down on her while she ate a second dessert.
She snorted a faint laugh. “I’m sure Alaric will have plenty of alcohol waiting for us when we get back,” she remarked wryly. “No matter how fucked up you feel like getting, Bones, I’m sure he’d be happy to accommodate you.”
Caelum knew she was right. But he still wasn’t sure he wanted to be with the others yet. Something else crossed his mind then, and he frowned. He tried to remember if he had anything in his room at Malcroix that would sober them up enough to fuck properly.
He couldn’t remember.
He might have one dose left, but likely not two.
Switching directions, he pulled Leda with him towards a sign he saw hanging from a shop ahead, one with a twisted chimney, a round red door, and a red-tiled roof.
He hadn’t been in this particular shop before, likely because his father didn’t have an account there that he knew of, which only increased the appeal.
Leda changed direction with him, curiosity in her aura as he led her inside the alchemy and potions shop with the rune-covered sign. He felt like he was being heavy-handed with her again, but she didn’t seem to mind.
She followed him inside and wandered around the shelves while he talked to the alchemist, reading labels on bottles while he bought potions for purging the alcohol from their systems and to kill any hangover symptoms that might linger tomorrow.
He bought them four doses of each, since he was already thinking about taking her out somewhere again.
His mother had a lot to say about their lack of “formal outings” while he’d been staying with Leda at the Tower.
Before they’d even descended the stairs of the potions shop to resume their walk to the park, he could feel his anxiety returning as he wondered exactly how she’d interpreted everything he’d told her over dinner.
He exhaled, increasingly annoyed the longer he thought about it.
He was annoyed with himself, annoyed with his shitty communication skills, annoyed with her stubborn refusal to see him accurately, and now, even after all the walking and the detour into the potions shop, uncomfortably hard.
Drinking excessive amounts of whisky might be the only remedy.
They reached the square in three more blocks.
It didn’t take long to find the others, even with how much the crowds had grown. It seemed like the entire city was now slowly converging on the park, and Caelum could feel the growing anticipation in the air which likely meant the festivities would be kicking off soon.
Still, they had some time yet, he guessed. People were still coming, and the organizers would want to wait until more of them had purchased food and drinks and conjured pillows and blankets and found places to sit before they started.
Mocking and Nyx already staked out a pair of couches for them towards the center, but not too close to the fountain.
Right as Caelum and Leda showed up, Alaric was collecting money to buy drinks.
Walker and Elsbeth collected more money to round up snacks.
Caelum and Leda stayed to guard the couches with Luc and Nyx, and all four of them conjured blankets, pillows, footstools, and a long, low table for all the drinks and food they’d have once Alaric, Walker, and Elsbeth came back.
Once they’d finished making the area comfortable, Bones plunked himself down on the long couch opposite Luc, and Leda sat next to him.
Leaning his head on the couch’s back cushion, he adjusted his weight deeper into the cushions, and pulled more of his coat over his lap. He had to admit, the furniture the faire organizers provided to cover the lawn was surprisingly comfortable.
When the others came back, they covered the table with food and drinks and found their own spots on the furniture.
Caelum had taken the far left arm on the longest couch.
Leda sat to his right. She soon had Greythorne next to her, (of bloody course), with Minh and Mocking sprawled on the other side of Alec.
Only Elsbeth and her mage, Dervish Walker, shared the smaller loveseat across from them.
They shrunk it down even more to make room for those around them, and moved it so that both pieces of furniture pressed right up against the table.
Caelum was watching the two of them whisper to one another when Leda leaned into him, curling into his side like a cat.
His fingers slid reflexively into her hair, and he found himself thinking again about whether he should try to talk to her again tomorrow, when he was sober.
He’d talk to Forsooth first.
He tried to shove his worry out of his mind.
He should be relaxing. Leda seemed relaxed.
Well, not relaxed, exactly, but she at least seemed capable of being social.
Caelum still couldn’t quite let go of his memory of dinner. He couldn’t stop replaying his horrible, moronic attempts to talk to her, or stop wincing as he realized how much he’d left out.
He could have spent another hour kissing her on that balcony, but it was probably better he hadn’t done that, either.
As badly as he’d bungled things, he could at least tell Forsooth he’d tried to talk to her.
Maybe the old bastard would give him a few more chances to work things out with her before he decided to intervene and scare the shit out of Leda with a much harsher picture of the reality between them.
“Stop obsessing,” she murmured, leaning her face by his.
He turned to look at her and flinched, startled again by her appearance.
Fuck, he hated the blonde hair.
He had a visceral, completely irrational reaction to seeing her physicality altered in any way. He hated any change to her from how she actually looked.
He hated it.
“I like to obsess,” he lied, glancing down at where she’d fit herself into the wide, deep couch next to him.
Her arm was wrapped lightly, almost tentatively around his waist, like she still wasn’t sure if he’d want it there.
It was maddening. He studied her lips briefly before raising his eyes back to hers.
“I want to be alone with you, even if you end up thinking I’m a fucking monster,” he said, quieter.
She scoffed, rolling her eyes.
Before she could tell him he was being stupid, he talked over her.
“But maybe it’s for the best that we’re not alone,” he added. “I don’t think I’d be particularly gentle right now. I’m thinking rather monstrous things.”
She snorted again and shook her head. Again, she didn’t seem annoyed with him, or even alarmed, although he hadn’t been entirely joking.
“Did you really turn my Yule present into a cock piercing?” she murmured, putting her lips right up to his ear.
That time, it was him who shivered.
“Yes,” he said at once.
“Is it still a dragon?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Does it still breath fire?”
“Yes.” He turned his head to look at her. “I might have smoothed off a few of the sharper edges,” he murmured, quieter. “Don’t want to hurt my little kitten with her own present.”
She scoffed, but that time, he saw her blush.
He watched her think about what he’d said, and fought another ripple of nearly painful heat through his magic.
He tried not to remember the last time they’d been alone together in his tower.
Or how hurt she’d looked the morning before, when he told her he’d be busy the rest of the day.
He was still looking at her face, trying to read past those maddening, obsidian-colored eyes, when Nyx leaned around Alaric, and grinned up at him.
She looked hammered.
Pretty much everyone in their group looked hammered. They’d definitely spent more time drinking than eating while Caelum had been at dinner with Leda.
“Did, erm, Chloe tell you about the nasty old witch who told her she could do better than you?” Nyx snorted with laughter, obviously finding this hilarious.
She covered her mouth with a hand. “She said you were a boorish prat. A nasty foreigner with ‘weird’ magic. She seemed to take issue with you not looking ‘English’ enough.”