Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Beckett
“Luckily, the enchantment or charm—whichever it is—seems only to affect our speech,” I mused.
“The same way your brilliant presence—” I could tell the stupid simile I was about to spout was going to be about Abi, so I coughed and covered my mouth, managing to cover the rest of the sentence, which was, “is the only thing that affects my composure.”
Abi, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice. She was too angry about the situation.
“Luckily? Luckily??” Her posture was stiff with anger.
“How is making us speak flowery language an even exchange for taking our photo without our consent?” Abi grumbled before the magic kicked in.
“It is as unfair as a murderous thunderstorm on the day of a fish boil. Also, the similes are atrocious. I haven’t even been to a fish boil yet! ”
“Welcome to the joys of fae magic,” I said. “It’s as stable as an anxious rabbit shifter that has drunk a pot of coffee, and often as useful as a broken door.”
“I see what you mean, now, about fae magic backfiring. I should have known to trust what you said. You have been like a stone pillar of stability in my life since I moved here.” Abi looked mildly embarrassed at the simile, but was too honest to take it back.
So she squared her shoulders and went back to skimming the bookshelf.
I, however, was not so interested in moving on.
Stone pillar? Well, I guess that’s something. Combined with the knowledge that we are friends, and that she feels comfortable enough to ask me to go into town with her, and we definitely have some kind of connection.
Killian Drake and half of my text group would say I was acting like an idiot for reversing so many of my personal rules and habits for her. (Then again, Killian Drake and the same half of the text group already thought I was an idiot for insisting on staying in hiding.)
The other half of the text group wouldn’t hesitate to tell me I was in the depths of love.
I wasn’t certain about that, but standing here with Abi, I had to admit that perhaps that was only because I hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge it.
“Sometimes you have to experience things for yourself. Though I do agree with you that you are right to feel you got the bad side of the exchange. At least this will be something we laugh about later…” I mused, trailing off.
Abi nodded but continued perusing, unbothered by my careful study of her, leaving me free to observe her, the soft brown waves of her hair that begged to be touched and the unusual intensity to her steely hazel eyes, which were set off by today’s eyeglasses, a pair of black cat eye frames.
(She had five different pairs of eyeglasses that I’d counted so far.)
Unfortunately for me, the wretched tea leaves kicked in and I was so focused on Abi that I didn’t cut myself off quite early enough. “Like lovers laughing about a spat weeks after—” I coughed again, but I was too late to cover the idiotic comparison.
Abi laughed. “See? An absolutely atrocious simile. Like stinking trash in a forgotten pit—oohh, that one sounded almost Shakespearian!” She glanced up at me and froze for a moment, then abruptly cleared her throat and went back to busily inspecting the bookcase.
There was something about that reaction that made me wonder…
Having momentarily given up on the book search, I tilted my head and considered her reaction. “Abi. Are you taken with my looks, as a rose takes to the sun?”
“Beckett. Have you looked in the mirror lately? Of course I think you’re handsome! The whole world would think you’re handsome—as glorious as a national treasure!” Abi scoffed, completely open.
I do admire her ability to be frank about own her emotions. But that wasn’t quite the reaction I was hoping for.
Abi glanced at me. “Something wrong?”
I rubbed my neck on the spot where the fae glamour placed the black crown tattoo as part of my disguise. “Perhaps I do not want to be admired, as a revered painting in a renowned art gallery.”
Abi narrowed her eyes. “Humble, are you? Not that you’re wrong. But I get it. Calling you handsome is just scratching the surface.” She pinched her lips together as she thought.
I waited patiently. It was vain of me, but I wanted her genuine thoughts.
“Clinically speaking you’re very handsome. I’m sure experts would say you have a very symmetrical face or something, but your vampiric nature is probably responsible for that,” she said, slow to start.
“What makes you so attractive—to me, anyway—isn’t just that your face looks like it was carved by a master artist from the Renaissance.
It’s the way you care and protect me,” Abi continued.
“That you’re down here in the basement with me looking for books about vampires after taste testing charmed tea all on my behalf.
You’re like a knight from chivalric stories who’s stepped in to real life and wow I didn’t mean to say all that!
” She shook her head, her embarrassment palpable.
I watched, exceedingly pleased by everything she’d said.
She’d noticed my actions, just as I’d noticed hers. There was a relief in that—in knowing I wasn’t alone.
This charmed tea is more useful than I gave it credit for. Though I will admit I likely skirt the line of cowardice by prompting Abi so openly when I gave her no indication of my own thoughts of her.
Clearly, it was my time to return the favor.
“You’re beautiful, you know,” I began.
Abi looked away from the bookshelf long enough to give me a flat look of disbelief. “Hearing that from a supernatural is like—and I don’t even need the tea to say this—getting a consolation prize for last place.”
“But it’s as you said. Supernatural beauty can be impersonal, and eerie in its misleading perfection.
” I thought for a moment, trying to find the words that would convey to Abi just how much her presence meant to me.
“But you draw everyone to you with your sincerity. You hold a great deal of influence over supernaturals you’ve just met because of the genuineness you show us.
I personally enjoy your intellect and the devious ways you use it—even though if I were anything but a vampire it would be surely giving me gray hairs. ”
That made her chuff—with both humor and pride.
She’s listening. Now, I can explain it to her.
“Your physical beauty, though, you don’t give yourself enough credit for. Your smile alone catches me off-guard, and reminds me what it was like when life still felt full of hope and wonderful things—not like a trial to be outlived,” I said.
Abi swallowed hard, and she kept her hazel eyes on mine.
Feeling her out, I reached out and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.
Abi took a slow, cautious step closer to me—which was all the permission I needed.
I slid my arms around her waist and leaned down, angling my mouth toward hers—moving slowly to give her time to pull away if she didn’t want this as badly as I did.
Abi instead went up on her tip-toes, meeting me halfway in a kiss that was the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted.
She linked her arms around my neck as I tugged her even closer so she leaned against my chest. She fit like she’d always belonged there, her heartbeat a soft, steady rhythm that was music to my ears.
Acutely aware of every place we touched, I was reluctant to move too much—it might shatter the moment, or, more likely, bring Abi back into reality. Still, even the most beautiful things had to end, as did the kiss.
We parted reluctantly, and I immediately missed the sensation of Abi’s soft, warm lips against mine.
Her hazel eyes were big with surprise as she gaped up at me. “Was that the tea?”
“No,” I said, decisively. I didn’t want to leave any room for misinterpretation.
“Then was it a mistake?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then… what did it mean?”
I hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
That was a lie.
Staring at Abi, my arms still settled around her waist, I knew that I was in love with her. But I needed to decide what that meant. I loved her, but was I prepared to change everything about my life to keep her? Did she even want me?
“Hm.” She squirmed out of my grasp and adjusted her glasses.
“Well that was fun, like eating a sundae topped with gooey fudge—oh, yay. The tea is still in effect.” She made a face as she turned back to the bookshelf, seemingly unphased by everything that had just happened and mostly annoyed by the charmed tea.
“It will likely last several hours,” I said, only half paying attention as I studied her. “It’s as persistent as the gnomes when they’re standing outside my front door.”
Abi grinned and scanned the bookshelf a little before turning to look at me. “Well?”
I shifted, hoping, but not sure for what. “Yes?”
Abi flicked her eyes to the books and then back to me. “Aren’t you going to help?”
Oh. To be fair, I did say I didn’t know what the kiss meant.
“Sorry. Of course.” Careful not to say anything more—lest the tea kick in with another dreadful simile—I crouched down and studied the bottom shelves, carefully scanning the book titles.
I spotted a slim leather-bound volume and plucked it from its spot on the bookcase. “Here. Take a look at this.” I stood up and handed the tome to Abi. “It’s one of the latest instruction books printed for newly turned vampires—like a rule book for children,” I said, forced by the tea.
Abi took the book and carefully paged through the pages, which were yellowed with age. “I thought it was really hard to make new vampires these days?”
“It is. That’s why this instruction book was printed in 1910,” I dryly said.
“Then this is well over a hundred years old—it’s like holding a piece of history.” Abi’s eyes got big again.
“It’s fine. I have several copies of various versions floating around like ghastly ghouls serving as reminders of the past.”
Abi looked up from the book long enough to squint at me. “Were you interested in making a Family?”
“No! That was the tea,” I said, disgusted by the thought.
Well, mostly disgusted. In the back of my mind there was the thought that perhaps one day Abi could become a vampire…
Abi laughed. “Of course. This book looks great. I can understand it fine. I’ll just have to be careful with it—as if I’m examining a piece of art. Shall we go upstairs?”
“Sure. I’ll put the covers back on the bookcases.”
“I’ll gather up the snack tray.”
While Abi set the book on the wooden tray and I finished replacing the sheet on the bookcase, my phone dinged with an incoming message.
I took it out and opened up a text from Killian Drake.
It was a picture—the one the Paragon had taken of Abi and myself.
K. Drake
For your personal enjoyment.
I stared at the picture for a while, pleased by the image. Although we were obviously ill-prepared for the snapshot, we stood close together, and Abi’s body language was relaxed with an alluring hint of a smile on her lips.
Although I’d never tell him, it was kind of Killian to send me the photo.
Perhaps the photo and tea were a fair trade after all.