Reap For Romance

1. Blind Date

Blind Date

Ryn

My leg bounces in time to the upbeat tune currently playing at Cuppa Kismet, the surprisingly trendy coffee shop in the center of a paranormal haven called Kismet Falls.

I mindlessly grab my latte and take a sip, wincing as I realize too late that it’s still a bit hot.

The flavor is marvelous, though—a richly spiced chai that somehow imbues a warmth that feels bone-deep.

My eyes dart over to the shop owner, who is clearly wearing a glamour, and I wonder briefly if there’s some kind of magic used in the beverages.

My lips purse at the thought as I take a deep breath and glance at my phone.

He’s late. My stomach dips with nerves, and I frown. I’m not used to being stood up, and the feeling is awful. When I came across his post on the spellcasters’ forum, I was so stoked. The luck of finding a psychopomp in need of a favor that I could actually barter with was unparalleled.

For once, I thought maybe fate was being kind.

Maybe, because I needed this favor to help someone else, things would go right.

That I find his reclusive species incredibly delicious and have always wanted to get one into bed is just a bonus.

Or it would have been, if it wasn’t getting increasingly more likely that he’s standing me up.

My phone vibrates on the table, and my stomach tenses.

Seth: Hey. Sorry, I got held up…

Fuck! My leg picks up speed, bouncing discordantly as I bite my lip. I think for a beat before picking up my phone and typing out a response.

Ryn: No worries. I’m just waiting for my latte to cool. Are you on your way, or should I take it to go?

There. That’s not too desperate, but it will hopefully make him feel like an ass if he doesn’t show.

Right? Ugh. This blind date thing is more stressful than I thought it would be.

I’m not too proud to admit that my looks have always been an advantage.

Maybe I should have been less stubborn and just swapped pics or something.

Trying to lure someone in with my sultry grey eyes, neat curves, and full pout is so much easier than relying on my text presence.

I suck at talking to people I don’t know, but I thought we clicked while we were texting.

Maybe some juvenile part of me wanted him to like me without having to use my looks.

Oh well. At least in person I can try to win him over with a weighted look or a well-timed laugh.

I absolutely hate relying on those types of methods because I’ve worked so friggen hard to distance myself from my upbringing.

But I can’t fuck this up—there’s too much at stake.

Growing up in the Unseelie Court, you learn early on how to use everything in your arsenal to get what you want.

Even if it is underhanded and insincere.

I've never been good at it, I'm much too forthright…

but I know what manipulation looks like.

Seth: I’m just around the corner, be there in a sec.

My breath leaves me in a whoosh, and my shoulders slump with relief.

I reach for my latte and take a hesitant sip before swallowing a few long pulls to calm my nerves.

Warmth spreads like a balm through my insides and instantly helps to settle my stomach.

I put my cup down and sit up straighter in my chair, absent-mindedly fixing my long blonde hair while my eyes swing anxiously toward the door.

You can do this, Ryn. This stupid permit issue is the last bit of red tape on a decade-long passion project…no pressure. Ugh, who am I kidding? I’d put out to get this permit signed. A hot psychopomp being the one to sign it? Not only will I put out, but I’ll get on my knees and beg.

I try to picture what sex with a psychopomp might look like and squirm in my chair.

While they all have unique features and a very large sliding scale of attractiveness, a shadow daddy is still a shadow daddy, and your girl is in the middle of a seriously dry spell.

I wasn’t lying either; I’ve never seen one that I wouldn’t climb like a tree.

Something about that exposed skull does it for me.

I close my eyes and take a steadying breath. This is not a helpful train of thought.

A jingle sounds out, and my eyes snap open and lock on a pair of gorgeous azure-blue eyes that almost seem to glow with their intensity—the perfect contrast to his warm complexion.

I swallow reflexively around the saliva building up at the sight of the mouth-wateringly good-looking man who just walked into the shop.

The light glints off various hints of jeweled clips adorning shoulder-length, neatly styled locs, and I distantly note that he might actually be prettier than me.

I can see the faint glimmer of the glamour around his form, but I know intrinsically that even without it, this man is sinfully attractive.

His tight black pants are perfectly indecent, and a pang of lust zips through me as I stare at his sizable bulge with zero shame.

Resurrection—he must be huge if he’s that big while soft!

My eyes trail down his legs to where his pants tuck into oversized combat boots.

His form-fitting eggplant-colored t-shirt is layered under a collared overshirt made up of chains.

I tilt my head at the unique piece and tamp down the tingles of appreciation currently fluttering around like butterflies in my belly.

My eyes dart back up to his neck, which is adorned with a studded tie attached to a leather choker that reminds me of a BDSM play collar.

I’d love to put a leash on his fine ass… or have him put one on me.

I reach quickly for my latte, my throat gone dry.

Before I can take a sip, he’s walking toward me with a smug little grin that makes me flush.

I look at the cup in my hands and hesitate.

Suddenly, the thought of drinking anything that adds to the overheated sensation coursing through my body seems like a decidedly bad idea.

“Tarynn?” I close my eyes and suppress the shiver of excitement that threatens to run down my spine at the sound of my name on his tongue.

Fuck. Way too early to be losing your head, Ryn—get it together!

Easier said than done when you’re horny as fuck and running on two hours of sleep with way too much caffeine.

“Ryn. P-please, call me Ryn.” I open my eyes and smile sweetly as he takes a seat across from me, which really is far too close for my sanity, considering how small the table is. When I sat down, it seemed cozy. Now it feels super intimate. I clear my throat. “Seth, right?”

A huge smile stretches his lips, and he nods, “Yeth.” His face falls so fast that it’s comical. “I mean, yes, it’s Seth. Not yeth.” He winces as he trails off.

I try to hide my chuckle behind my latte as I take a sip, but a little V forms between his eyebrows as he frowns. Crap. Be charming, you idiot!

I put the cup down and look at him through my lashes, desperately attempting to play it cool.

A faint blush colors his chestnut-colored cheeks, and I pout.

Am I making him nervous, or is he upset that I laughed?

Fuck—how am I already messing this up? Maybe he doesn’t appreciate the flirting?

Is this more business than a date? I mean, I know I’m the one who pushed for the date part, but he agreed, right?

Maybe he’s not interested in other species?

Nerves twist my stomach in a tight little knot as I spiral.

If we get the details out of the way now, maybe things will be less awkward.

“So, did you want to go over the favor trade?” It’s a little breathy, but cool. Calm. Collected. Thank Gods.

His eyes dim, and his mouth tightens as he nods.

“Bet. You already know the details of what I need help with. What kind of permitting help are you looking for that you could only talk about in person?” His gaze turns skeptical, and I fight the urge to bristle at his critical tone.

In what seems like the blink of an eye, he’s gone from charming to closed off.

I huff with annoyance at the unwelcome sting of rejection.

Why do I care if he’s not flirting with me?

Because I want him. Ugh!

I lean back and cross my arms over my chest defensively. “I need to rush a permit.”

He licks his lips, and my eyes trail the movement.

I lean in without thinking, savoring the heady aroma of spiced opium clinging to him.

A soft groan escapes me at the almost hypnotic fragrance.

Of course he smells delicious! I can feel my heartbeat increase, but I try to ignore it as I focus on his words.

“What for?”

Blinking to clear my mind, I mutter, “It’s illegal to raise the dead inside city limits without proper permits.”

At the reminder of everything riding on this, a tight smile curls my lips, and nausea roils in my stomach.

I wish for the millionth time that Dr. Vesalius, my business partner, could have been the one responsible for figuring out the permits.

Paperwork has always been more his thing.

And how unfair is it that I scored myself a date with the personification of tall, dark, and handsome, and it’s under these pretenses?

Even if he doesn’t seem very interested. Where is the sweet, funny dude from our online exchanges? I want that guy.

When I look up, Seth is staring at me blankly. “I mean, why the rush? Just file it with your zone. They get approved in like, less than a month. Why put yourself through all the bother of helping me and this date?”

Okay, rude. Maybe he’s just miffed that I went full business on him?

Should I push the seduction angle? Fuck.

I’m not built for these types of undefined situations.

I’ve been pretty straightforward, why can’t he be?

It doesn’t help that playing coy is not my forte, especially when my brain is screaming, ‘Do you like me?’ on repeat in the background.