Chapter 11 #2
I hand him the first two books in my hand, and the ladder slides back and forth, somehow knowing where to go as Elliot reads out the titles.
Once he’s shelved them, I pass him a few more, repeating the process until the stack in my arms has dwindled, and we return to the front of the store to collect another stack.
This time, we’re transported to a section titled, “Prenatal Potionry,” something I’d never considered before now. In fact, there are a lot of things in here I hadn’t considered.
Treehorn’s seems to have a book on every subject you could think of.
Enchanted Fabrics.
Temporal Adjustments.
Centaur Mating Rituals.
You name it, I’d bet my next feed it’s in here somewhere.
“So is this where Alexandria went?” I ask. “Treehorn robbed the place?”
Elliot laughs as if he truly finds that joke funny, and the noise bounces back, making my ears ring for a moment.
“Maybe,” he says, shrugging as I hand him a thick, leather-bound title named “Mushroom Sprites and the Toadstool Wars.” He slots it in the section labeled “Woodland Skirmishes.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” he adds, reaching for another text.
I hand him the little pamphlet titled “Dryads at Wartime.”
“Is this like a passion of his? Books?”
“Something like that. Treehorn is a watcher.” Elliot pauses as he searches for the proper place. “He’s obsessed with understanding people. This is technically his personal collection. He just wasn’t sure what to do with them after he’d read them all, so...”
“Read them all?”
I look at the shelves again.
There are at least four hundred texts in this section alone. How on earth—
“Treehorn is very old,” Elliot explains.
“How old?”
He shrugs.
“Older than Argent?” I ask.
Elliot chuckles.
“No. No one’s older than Argent. That creepy fuck is ancient.”
“Thank you!” I shout. “He is creepy, isn’t he? Why does he never—”
“Blink?” Elliot says, pulling the thought right out of my head.
“Yes!” We both laugh, and the sound echoes across the high ceiling. “Gods, I wish I could pry his eyes out.”
Elliot steps down a few rungs to reach for the next set of texts in my hands, but he pauses, brows knitted together.
“What do you mean?”
“He stares at me, all class,” I say, trying not to sound exasperated. “Like he’s fantasizing about eating me.”
Elliot descends the rest of the way, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a look I recognize. Although it’s usually a look I see on Dame.
“That’s disgusting, Iris. Did you speak to the Enchantments Chair? They should know about that.”
I sigh.
“I’m not an idiot. Of course, I told them. But how do you think that went? A succubus accusing a thousand-year-old vampire of staring. Gee, what’s next? A banshee complaining that the sirens are too loud?”
Elliot’s arms cross as his face twists, and I shake my head, already knowing what comes next.
Be it the beta in him or those infamous Cross genes, Elliot is a man of action, almost to a fault. Our current predicament is evidence of such. But I don’t need Argent failing me because my boyfriend, that’s not my boyfriend, has anger issues.
“No, I don’t need you to do anything. There’s only a few months left of term. I’ll be fine.”
His teeth grind, and his tail falls limp as I utter those words again.
“That’s not the point,” he growls.
“Oh, please enlighten me as to what the point is.”
“The point is, I’m not going to let some old fuck harass my girlfriend for two hours twice a week just because she’s a succubus.”
“I’m not actually your girlfriend. You know that, right?”
Elliot sighs and rolls his neck.
“Iris, have I ever let someone disrespect you?”
His question sparks the many memories of him biting back at onlookers, challenging cocky wolves, and even breaking bones in my name.
I shake my head.
“No.”
“Then why would I start now?”
He snatches the book in my hand and makes his way back up the ladder before I can respond, which is fine by me because I don’t have anything smart left to say anyway.
We continue in silence for a long while, me trailing after Elliot and his enchanted ladder, him muttering to it under his breath.
He finds a rhythm in the work, slipping up and down the ladder quickly and thumbing through the books on the shelf, organizing them without much thought. For a second, I think he might even forget I’m here.
The usual tension in his shoulders dissipates after a while, and the subtle smirk disappears from his face.
Elliot likes it in here. More than he’s letting on.
Once the carts at the front are cleared, he transports us to the back of the store, where a small seating area has been set up. Nothing spectacular, just an old rug and a few armchairs and footstools organized in an odd circle. A place to read if you feel like getting lost.
He offers me a seat before disappearing and returning a moment later with tea in hand.
“I know you like elderflower and wolfsbane, but Tree says this will fix anything. Knowing him, it’s probably just plain tea, but I don’t know. Worth a shot.”
He hands me the little porcelain cup, a warm, citrusy scent wafting up in a cloud of steam. As I sip it, my body loosens, the hollow feeling in my stomach dissipating.
Elliot settles into the plush armchair across from me, and my tea grows cold before he speaks again.
“I think we should kill her,” he says finally, setting his empty cup on the floor.
I sputter and cough as my tea slides down the wrong pipe.
“What?” I wheeze, trying to clear my throat. “Kill who?”
“Our new friend,” he says. “Seems like the simplest solution. Since she doesn’t want to listen to reason.”
“Simple? What about that could possibly be simple?”
“I didn’t say simple. I said simplest. There’s a difference.”
Ugh. He’s such a smartass.
“What even happened?” I ask.
Elliot shrugs and spends the next few minutes prying at his leather choker as he tells me of their encounter in the alley, including how she was dressed and the words she said.
I can tell he leaves some things out, but he makes sure to detail the part where he threatened her and absolutely did not try to kiss her.
And when he’s done, my head hurts more than it did before.
“Then who took this picture of you two?” I ask, a lump beginning to form in my throat.
“I don’t know, but I’ll kill them too. Don’t worry about it.”
He says this as if it is so ordinary among us.
Hey, how was your day? Good, killed a few people. You?
Gods, he’s fucking psychotic.
“You can’t just kill everyone, Elliot. That’s how we got here in the first place, remember?”
“I will if I have to.”
“Maybe we should just give her what she wants,” I suggest.
“Says the one she doesn’t want,” he scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not relinquishing my claim on you, Iris. Without it, the Crescent treaties can’t protect you. I wouldn’t be able to intervene if the Inquisition connects the dots. There’d be nothing standing in their way.”
I throw my hands up.
“What difference does it make if she releases the photo?”
“She won’t release it,” he says, sounding much too sure of himself.
“How do you know?”
“Because I promised that if she does, I’ll cut her pack ties. Nothing is that important. Not to anyone.”
He shakes his head as if this is a definitive fact, etched into ancient stone. Maybe it is, I’m not a wolf, so I wouldn’t really know.
“Well, what are we supposed to do about you two then?”
Elliot shrugs.
“It’s not true,” he says. “So who cares?”
“I do,” I snap. “I look like an idiot.”
He groans at the ceiling.
“Fine. We’ll put on a better show and just tell people it was a skinwalker. Happy?”
My face runs slack as my patience wears out.
“No, not happy. That’s stupid.”
“Oh, come on. These people will believe anything if you say it with enough confidence.”
He’s not entirely wrong about that. Half the rumors I hear about myself are so ridiculous I can’t believe anyone with half a brain thinks they’re true.
“Wait. Where did you hear your dick would fall off from looking at me?”
Elliot claps his hands together as he barks out a hearty laugh, the sound rising into the rafters before folding back in on us like thunder.
“You like that one?” he asks, practically wheezing as he clutches his stomach. “I started it myself.”
I pick up a stray book and chuck it at him.
“That’s not funny!”
Elliot ducks, but the book turns out to be enchanted. It takes flight about midrange, leaving him unpunished, smiling at me like a fool.
“It’s a little funny,” he says, wiping the tears from his eyes. “And it’s working. At this point, who gives a fuck.”
“At this point?” I ask, arching a brow.
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s alright,” I say. “I’m not stupid, I know what everyone thinks of me.”
He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, teeth pulling at a piercing in his lower lip.
“Which is?”
I shrug.
“They all think I’m the spoiled, lonely succubus that all the boys like, and none of the boys love.”
“Well, are you?” he asks.
“Spoiled?”
“Lonely,” he corrects.
I’m quiet for a moment as I contemplate his question.
I forget how shockingly disarming Elliot can be when he isn’t teasing me. Those gorgeous green eyes are always fixing me with a truly penetrating stare, as if he could pry the truth from between my teeth by simply commanding my mouth to open. And, perhaps more shocking, is the fact that I do.
“Sometimes,” I admit. “But I don’t really mind.”
He nods as if confirming a long-held suspicion.
“Yeah, me either.”
His gaze moves to the rug beneath his feet, and I stare at him for a moment, wondering how we got here.
I like to think that Elliot and I are friends.
Real friends. But I’d be lying if I said that friendship is more than surface-level, at best. Sure, we joke, and we chat.
But only ever about books or music, or whatever pack gossip is running rampant through Crescent House at the moment.
We never really talk about anything…important.
So as his solemn expression finds my eyes, I can’t help but feel like he’s seeing me naked for the first time.