CHAPTER TEN
Kayla
What the hell have I gotten myself into? This is the worst date ever.
I crane my neck and squint around the candelabra, trying to see Shadow at the far end of the formal dining table.
The movement makes the girdle dig into my side.
Victoria made me wear a blue satin dress that belonged to my grandmother, the outfit far fancier than anything in my closet, so fancy it requires “foundational undergarments.” Hell, I didn’t even know what foundational undergarments were besides Spanx, let alone wear any before now.
The Girdle of Doom is the flipping worst. If I named something this in a game, it would give the wearer an increased constitution during battles and maybe a spell to help smite enemies.
Here in the real world, the Girdle of Doom’s only functions seem to be bruising my ribs and squishing my tummy until it feels like I can barely breathe.
When I complained, Victoria reminded me that this was her date, and I had to do what she wanted. Then she turned off the hot water until I agreed.
So here I am, trussed up in a torture device designed by an evil mastermind. I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life.
Shadow, on the other hand, looks damned fine in a charcoal-gray suit paired with a silver tie that perfectly matches the tips of his ombré hair.
If I could see him, that is. I lean in the other direction, hoping there’s a clearer view of the far end of the table, but no joy.
I huff a soft laugh and shake my head. It’s not as if I haven’t seen a lot of Shadow.
He spent the last two days working on the door, right outside my office window, shirtless the entire time.
And each night, there’s that peek of him naked.
I constantly tell myself I won’t look, but I do. Every damned time, I do.
Pepperpot appears beside me, making me jump. About two feet tall, the brownie has light skin offset by dark-brown hair and eyes. The color palette continues to her clothes, made of a patchwork of brown leaves, some in shapes I’ve never seen on Earth.
She carries a platter topped with two plates of mixed-greens salad, a bread basket, and two little crocks of sweet butter. She sets down the food and says, “I’ll be back in ten minutes with your entrees,” before disappearing.
“How does she do that?” I squint through the candelabra.
“You said no other fae walk the shadow roads. Is she teleporting?” Which doesn’t make sense, because Shadow went to town to bring her here.
Victoria demanded we have the finest chef in Ferndale Falls cook dinner, and there’s no one better than a brownie baker, so he made it happen.
“No.” The clink of metal on porcelain. “Brownie hearth magic allows them to move unseen around any house they serve in. It’s protective magic, so they can hide if needed.”
I butter a roll, then moan as the first yeasty bite melts on my tongue. How can bread be this tasty and light? The salad’s good too, the dressing citrusy and bright, with caramelized walnuts adding a sweet crunch.
When the brownie returns, she whisks away my plate and replaces it with one topped with a steak and a baked potato dripping with sour cream, the flecks of fresh chives offering bright pops of green.
The meat is rich and salty and perfect, and I hum with pleasure.
“That good, huh?” Shadow teases.
“Yeah, it’s that good.” Even though I can’t see him clearly, I can imagine the smirk he must wear, but I refuse to be embarrassed. Food like this deserves happy noises.
“I hope you’re paying Pepperpot well,” I say. Victoria certainly doesn’t have a budget, so Shadow agreed to foot the bill for dinner.
“Of course I am,” he says, and I believe it after seeing his stash of Faerie gold. His silverware clinks. “In fact, I propose a toast. To Pepperpot.”
“To Pepperpot.” I lift my glass, right as a door bangs upstairs.
Writing appears on the parchment attached to the wall. “I’m the one you should be thanking.”
“And to Victoria, for designing this evening,” Shadow says, and I echo him, taking a sip of the full-bodied Cabernet Sauvignon.
With conversation stilted by the candles in the way, I eat quickly instead of lingering. Shadow must match my pace, because it’s not long before Pepperpot appears to take our plates and let us know dessert will be ready in five minutes.
“Let’s use that time to make a little rearrangement.” Shadow stands and comes around the table, carrying his wine glass. He sits in the chair to my left with a satisfied grin.
A door slams upstairs, and I jolt and look over at the parchment. “That’s not how I planned it.”
“You’ve done a lovely job,” Shadow lies. Or maybe he’s not lying. He sure doesn’t look as miserable as I feel as a rub at the spot where the girdle digs into my side. But men’s clothing is always so much kinder to their bodies.
“This way Kayla and I can see each other and even touch. It’s much more romantic.” He picks up my hand and brushes his thumb over my knuckles, setting my heart racing as my entire body lights up. His eyes glitter with amusement. “Isn’t that right, my wife?”
“Yeah,” I choke out. “Sure.”
A pop of magic saves me from completely embarrassing myself, as Pepperpot appears and disappears, leaving behind two pieces of chocolate torte.
“Ohhh.” My eyes latch onto the treat, one of my absolute favorites.
The first bite coats my tongue in chocolaty goodness, and my eyes roll so far back in my head I can’t see anything.
Before I realize it, most of my dessert is gone, and I lift the last forkful to my mouth and slide the thick chocolate slowly over my tongue, savoring it.
Shadow’s hand grips my arm, warm and firm and making me tingle. He leans forward, his eyes latched onto my mouth as he holds up his fork, covered with his last bite of torte. “Make that sound again.”
“What sound?”
He teases the tines against my lips, smearing them with chocolate, and my tongue sneaks out to lick it away.
His green eyes go black as the pupils shoot wide, and a low growl vibrates from him. “Goddess, Kayla. What you do to me.”
My heart races, a tingle of excitement moving through me. But when I squirm under his heated gaze, the girdle digs into my stomach, making me feel uncomfortable and awkward. I rub at it through the thin material of the satin dress, but that only makes the spot hurt worse.
“I can’t wait to win you, my witchy beauty.”
Win me? Is that all I am to him, some kind of prize?
“Yeah, no.” I shove to my feet, which reduces the pinch of the Girdle of Doom a little bit but makes me totter on the Heels from Hell, stilettos with heels so narrow I keep expecting them to poke holes in the hardwood floor.
Shadow leaps to his feet, as graceful as ever. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“This—” I wave a hand toward the fancy dinner setup, then pluck at the fabric over my artificially narrowed waist. “This isn’t me.”
“You have my permission to take it off.” He smiles, hot and wicked, his voice dropping to a purr, all sin and chocolate. “I’m happy to help.”
He wants me—it’s clear. But his words also make it clear he’s playing a game of seduction.
The discomfort of the clothes mixes with my uncertainty over his motives to create churning confusion.
My social anxiety kicks in: am I reading any of this right?
I lift my hands and bat at the air. “I can’t do this right now.
” Spinning, I hurry into the hall, the Heels from Hell making me sway like I’m crossing the deck of a storm-tossed ship.
The lights go out all over the house, the sudden darkness disorienting. My foot comes down hard, my ankle wobbling as the heel twists under me. My arms pinwheel as I tip backward—
Strong arms snap me up, pressing me to a firm body.
I suck in a shocked breath, all musk and pine and wildness, the call of the forest radiating from him.
Shadow stands me upright, keeping hold as I cling to his shoulders, cursing the shoes from hell, which must have been made by the same person as the girdle.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Then he raises his voice. “Victoria, turn the lights back on now.”
A door bangs in a no.
He sighs and picks me up, carrying me effortlessly upstairs.
Damn. Exactly how strong is he?
In a few moments, he sets me down on something soft, and there’s the sound of a lighter flicking, the tiny flame bright as he lights a couple of the candles I keep on the dresser.
In their soft glow, he comes back over to the bed and crouches in front of me, clever fingers unbuckling the Heels from Hell.
My tortured foot spasms with delight as the thin, cutting straps fall away.
He pauses once he’s done, my bare feet resting on his thigh, his gorgeous face limned by candlelight. “I need to take Pepperpot back to town. It’ll take less than ten minutes. Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes.” Ten minutes will hopefully be enough to get out of the Girdle of Doom and back into comfy clothes. “Go.”
He gives my feet one last caress before setting them softly on the ground and gliding silently from the room.
I flop back on the bed, the girdle making my laugh kind of breathless. “That was very bad, not good, horrible. I dub it the Datepocalypse.”
Victoria slams another door, which only makes me laugh harder.
Then I remember the way Shadow carried me upstairs, the concern in his voice, how gentle his hands were as he removed my shoes…
I pull a pillow over my face to yell into it. First, he’s all slick seduction. Then he’s sweet and caring.
Will the real Shadow please stand up?
The morning after the Datepocalypse, I open my eyes and yelp, pulling the sheet up to my neck, even though I’m wearing a sleep tee and shorts.
Shadow looms in the open doorway, a paper cup from Grounds for Celebration in each hand. He grins as he stalks forward. “I got coffee.”