Page 25
Story: Petty AF
The discomfort lasted only a moment, but the lines of fate etched into our skin would never fade.
“It’s pretty,” River commented, using his index finger to trace the stark white lines of the mating mark on his palm. “Does it do anything?”
“We’ll always be able to find each other,” I explained. Even now, I had a new awareness of him that I couldn’t explain with words. “And I’ll always know when you need me.”
“Sucks for you,” he quipped, his lips parting in a soft smile. “I always need you.”
“Trust me, that’s not something I’ll ever complain about.”
He tilted his head up to brush our lips together. “I love you, Deaton, and I’m really glad you’re mine.”
“I love you, too, baby. You are my everything.”
And I’d destroy the whole fucking world before I let anyone take him from me.
nine
~ River ~
Aftertalkingaclientout of a bright yellow mermaid dress by telling her she’d look like a soggy banana, I was officially over this curse.
She’d strutted into the studio on six-inch Louis Vuitton’s with a picture of the ugliest dress I’d ever seen. So, yeah, I’d meant every damn word of it, but pre-hex, I would have at least tried to be more tactful about it.
Thankfully, she hadn’t taken it personally, calling it “refreshingly honest.” That had been pure luck, though, and it could have gone south so fast. If I had slipped up like that with the wrong client, I’d have been blacklisted before they even made it out of the shop.
I had tried. Really, I had. I’d done everything I could to reclaim some sense of normalcy, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I just wanted my life back, or at the very least, to not have every private thought broadcasted to the world.
Deaton had explained that I could go through the proper channels to request a meeting with the Warlock Regent, but it would take weeks, maybe even months. I didn’t have that kind of time.
While I had been prepared to beg, bribe, or write checks I couldn’t cash to expedite the process, as it turned out, none of that had been necessary.
Though she didn’t share my dislike of the warlock, Nadia had come through, using her influence and connections to negotiate a meeting. I suspected she also felt a sense of responsibility, and maybe even a smidge of guilt, since she had been the one to secure my invite to the gala in the first place.
Of course, I didn’t blame her, but I was also desperate enough to use it to my advantage.
I’d donned a pair of black chinos and a beige V-neck for the meeting, aiming to appear presentable but as unassuming as possible. To combat the summer heat, I had tied my hair into a messy knot at the crown and opted for casual flip flops instead of my usual loafers.
In reality, I probably could have shown up naked with a bell around my neck, and I wouldn’t have gotten so much as a raised eyebrow from the warlock.
We met at a coffee shop in the city plaza, a public space with plenty of witnesses, both human and shadeling. I had also brought Deaton along for backup. Partly for comfort and solidarity, but largely to keep me on track and prevent the meeting from going off the rails.
I didn’t know if it would make a difference, but I figured false confidence had to be better than nothing.
Decorated in shades of blue and chrome, with neon lights and digital displays, the space boasted a futuristic atmosphere that managed to feel inviting rather than stark. The utilitarian furniture that filled most cafes had been replaced with curvingsofas and wide chairs with rounded backs situated around short, glass tables.
I sat in the middle of the steel-blue sofa, Deaton’s steadying presence pressed against my side. Still, my pulse raced, quick and thready, and my entire body vibrated with nervous energy.
I didn’t fear Joss in the strictest sense. Sure, he could probably turn me into a caterpillar if he wanted to, but I didn’t think he would, no matter how much I pissed him off. Even for someone with questionable morals and flexible boundaries, that seemed a little extreme.
I didn’t need him to like me, but I did need this meeting to go well. Considering my genuine distaste for the man and my current lack of filter, there didn’t seem to be a high probability of that happening.
“Don’t try to lie,” Deaton reminded me, taking my hand and linking our fingers together. “You know you can’t, and it’ll just make things worse.”
Not trusting myself to speak without my voice quivering, I simply nodded.
While I didn’t advocate lying, I also felt like, in some situations, a kind untruth might be considered acceptable. I no longer had that capability. When I tried and ultimately failed, it only created panic and frustration. The more emotional I became, the more I lost control, and around and around it went, ad nauseum.
“You’ve got this,” my mate added, brushing his thumb over the back of my hand. “I’ll be right here the whole time.”
“It’s pretty,” River commented, using his index finger to trace the stark white lines of the mating mark on his palm. “Does it do anything?”
“We’ll always be able to find each other,” I explained. Even now, I had a new awareness of him that I couldn’t explain with words. “And I’ll always know when you need me.”
“Sucks for you,” he quipped, his lips parting in a soft smile. “I always need you.”
“Trust me, that’s not something I’ll ever complain about.”
He tilted his head up to brush our lips together. “I love you, Deaton, and I’m really glad you’re mine.”
“I love you, too, baby. You are my everything.”
And I’d destroy the whole fucking world before I let anyone take him from me.
nine
~ River ~
Aftertalkingaclientout of a bright yellow mermaid dress by telling her she’d look like a soggy banana, I was officially over this curse.
She’d strutted into the studio on six-inch Louis Vuitton’s with a picture of the ugliest dress I’d ever seen. So, yeah, I’d meant every damn word of it, but pre-hex, I would have at least tried to be more tactful about it.
Thankfully, she hadn’t taken it personally, calling it “refreshingly honest.” That had been pure luck, though, and it could have gone south so fast. If I had slipped up like that with the wrong client, I’d have been blacklisted before they even made it out of the shop.
I had tried. Really, I had. I’d done everything I could to reclaim some sense of normalcy, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I just wanted my life back, or at the very least, to not have every private thought broadcasted to the world.
Deaton had explained that I could go through the proper channels to request a meeting with the Warlock Regent, but it would take weeks, maybe even months. I didn’t have that kind of time.
While I had been prepared to beg, bribe, or write checks I couldn’t cash to expedite the process, as it turned out, none of that had been necessary.
Though she didn’t share my dislike of the warlock, Nadia had come through, using her influence and connections to negotiate a meeting. I suspected she also felt a sense of responsibility, and maybe even a smidge of guilt, since she had been the one to secure my invite to the gala in the first place.
Of course, I didn’t blame her, but I was also desperate enough to use it to my advantage.
I’d donned a pair of black chinos and a beige V-neck for the meeting, aiming to appear presentable but as unassuming as possible. To combat the summer heat, I had tied my hair into a messy knot at the crown and opted for casual flip flops instead of my usual loafers.
In reality, I probably could have shown up naked with a bell around my neck, and I wouldn’t have gotten so much as a raised eyebrow from the warlock.
We met at a coffee shop in the city plaza, a public space with plenty of witnesses, both human and shadeling. I had also brought Deaton along for backup. Partly for comfort and solidarity, but largely to keep me on track and prevent the meeting from going off the rails.
I didn’t know if it would make a difference, but I figured false confidence had to be better than nothing.
Decorated in shades of blue and chrome, with neon lights and digital displays, the space boasted a futuristic atmosphere that managed to feel inviting rather than stark. The utilitarian furniture that filled most cafes had been replaced with curvingsofas and wide chairs with rounded backs situated around short, glass tables.
I sat in the middle of the steel-blue sofa, Deaton’s steadying presence pressed against my side. Still, my pulse raced, quick and thready, and my entire body vibrated with nervous energy.
I didn’t fear Joss in the strictest sense. Sure, he could probably turn me into a caterpillar if he wanted to, but I didn’t think he would, no matter how much I pissed him off. Even for someone with questionable morals and flexible boundaries, that seemed a little extreme.
I didn’t need him to like me, but I did need this meeting to go well. Considering my genuine distaste for the man and my current lack of filter, there didn’t seem to be a high probability of that happening.
“Don’t try to lie,” Deaton reminded me, taking my hand and linking our fingers together. “You know you can’t, and it’ll just make things worse.”
Not trusting myself to speak without my voice quivering, I simply nodded.
While I didn’t advocate lying, I also felt like, in some situations, a kind untruth might be considered acceptable. I no longer had that capability. When I tried and ultimately failed, it only created panic and frustration. The more emotional I became, the more I lost control, and around and around it went, ad nauseum.
“You’ve got this,” my mate added, brushing his thumb over the back of my hand. “I’ll be right here the whole time.”