1. Blind Date #2
Oh, fuck it. My pulse quickens, and I inject some honey into my voice to counteract the weird tension that’s taken over this interaction. “I need it as soon as possible. By tomorrow would be best.” I watch his eyes widen at my insane timeline and hold my breath. I’m pushing, and I know it.
“I’ll do anything you want. Whatever it takes.
” I lick my lips and lean forward to rest a hand on his.
I hope he takes me up on my very unsubtle innuendo, because I’d like to see him naked almost as much as I need this favor, even with the weird hot and cold vibes.
Actually, I can work with hot and cold roleplay in bed.
An electric current races through me at the thought, and my eyes drop to his full bottom lip, currently pinned by his teeth.
When he stiffens at my touch, I silently curse myself for being too pushy and reading him wrong, again! He pulls his hand away and shakes his head.
“Please, don’t do that.” His voice is quiet, yet firm.
My cheeks flame with embarrassment, and I nod stiffly, “I’m sorry.”
He holds my stare for a long moment before he slowly nods.
“Give me your paperwork and a written proposal. If your permit is legit, I’ll sign it.”
Hope flares in my chest, and I smile, mumbling a timid, “Thank you.”
“I’m not doing it for free, I need help with my thing—and if it’s for any kind of ritual sacrifice, you can consider it a no-go.”
Indignant anger quickly replaces the hope, and my smile turns into a scowl. “Excuse me? Ritual sacrifice? Are you serious?”
Seth raises his chiseled jaw and glares at me through cold eyes, “You’re a necromancer, Ryn.
There’s no rush if the people are already dead, right?
Over fifty percent of all rush permits submitted by necromancers in this region are for ritual sacrifice.
It’s not exactly an out-of-pocket assumption…
especially considering you set up a date sight unseen and just offered to fuck me for a signature.
” His eyes are hard, a muscle in his jaw ticking as it clenches.
My own jaw goes slack as I recoil.
“How dare you?” While I can admit that it’s not uncommon for necromancers to face prejudice and derision, I wasn’t expecting it from a psychopomp. If anyone can understand what it feels like to be judged based on what you are, it should be him.
He shifts uneasily in his seat, looking suddenly uncertain as I level a glare at him.
“You weren’t hiding the fact you were searching for someone to help your little friend.
I can help. I need help as well. It was a win-win scenario.
The fact I find you attractive and thought we hit it off was just a bonus.
” I can feel my throat ache with the threat of tears, which only pisses me off further.
Especially when he shifts in his seat, looking all uncertain and adorable.
I take a deep breath and glare before finishing my impromptu speech, “I have been honest every step of the way with this. Excuse me for thinking I might mix a little business with pleasure. You’re the one acting all weird. If you’re not interested in me, just fucking say so!”
Seth’s eyes widen, and he sits forward. It feels like time stills as his eyes make a loop of my face, as if he’s hunting for some sign of insincerity.
By the time his mouth opens to say something, I’m over it.
I’m not sure how I started off with leverage and ended up so fucking vulnerable, but I loathe this feeling.
“No. Whatever you’re going to say, keep it to yourself, Reaper. This—” I gesture between us with a shaking finger and move to stand. “This is done. I’ll find someone else to help.” I can feel the heat of embarrassment and rage on my face as I throw in a cheap shot for good measure, “And to fuck.”
“Ryn, please—” His velvety voice sounds contrite and pleading, and I can feel his gaze on me, but I refuse to meet his eyes.
“No.” Tears of frustration sting at the back of my eyes, and I groan, refusing to let them fall.
I’m being stupid, and I know it. I need his help, but my heart is beating too fast, and it aches with each pulse.
I’m overtired, emotional, and desperate, and it’s making me impulsive.
The insult of being grouped in with typical Unseelie trash, when I’ve worked so hard to be better—it’s just too much.
I grab my cup from the table and turn to leave.
“I’ll sign it!”
Gods damn it.
I freeze mid-step and close my eyes, pulling a breath in through my nose and letting it out slowly.
This isn’t about me. We need this. Dr. Vesalius and our patients are counting on me. I clear my throat and turn around slowly, willing my face to appear unbothered.
“It’s not illegal. I-I’m not like that. I’ve never killed anyone. I would never.” My voice wavers a little, but thankfully doesn’t crack.
Seth’s shoulders slump, and he looks miserable enough to make me take some small ounce of pity on him. Maybe we’ve both let nerves and assumptions get in the way.
I sigh and move back to sit across from him at the table as he nods and says, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have implied what I did.” He runs a hand over his face and flashes me a stiff, apologetic smile with surprisingly earnest eyes.
The mood is different now; with all the crackling sexual tension extinguished, a truce hangs in the air between us.
But years of surviving the Unseelie Court taught me that words are cheap, and this kind of vulnerability is dangerous.
With that in mind, I take a second to figure out how to play this.
Settling on friendly but cautious, I lick my lips and try again.
“Thank you.”
He smiles at my words, and his blue eyes shine, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. There’s something about him that makes me feel exposed, and it’s as terrifying as it is alluring.
Clearing my throat, I half-whisper, “Tell me about your friend?”
His eyes narrow slightly, and I appreciate the fact that he’s quick enough to sense my purposeful shift. Regret and something like sadness flit through his eyes briefly before he leans forward and grins, “Thank you for chai-ing again. I know I’m a latte handle.”
Laughter bubbles up before I can think better of it, and I snort—a flush creeping across my cheeks. I shake my head with a quirked brow, “Really?”
He nods sagely, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous joy that makes warmth quickly flood my insides.
This guy is gonna give me whiplash! I let myself relax a little and play with my hair, and his eyes drop to where I’m twirling a flaxen strand around a finger.
They quickly slide to my chest, his gaze glowing with undisguised interest. He blinks quickly, and then looks up, and winks when our eyes meet.
Is he flirting with me now? Maybe he is interested? Fuck, he’s confusing.
Sitting a little straighter and smirking, I let my chest stick out a bit more, and my pulse kicks up again. He notices immediately and licks his lips. Gods, he’s so hot.
Opening a mouth that is entirely too kissable, he whispers conspiratorially, “This is the start of a brew-tiful friend-sip.”
Well, fuck. I shake my head and force a smile at his antics, trying to will my body to catch up to the constant mixed signals and the disappointing fact that this date is not going to end with him folding me in a pretzel so tightly that I wear my thighs for ear muffs. Better luck next time, I guess.