Page 29

Flynn

Katie

Mum told me you rang her a few days ago. That’s good. Hope you’re okay. I’m here when you’re ready to talk to me.

M y fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before I pocketed my phone. This was the first text Katie had sent me where she didn’t sound angry, which was good. But I needed to talk to her in person. Not that it was going to be possible anytime soon.

Forget about permission to go to Ireland—I was currently lurking outside room 210, Seb’s office, psyching myself up for permission to leave the hotel. I forced myself to knock, feeling like a prisoner begging an officer for their daily exercise hour in the yard.

“Enter.” Seb’s voice carried through the wood.

I pushed the door open to find him hunched over his laptop, his curls askew as if he’d been running his hands through them.

The moment he registered my presence, he quickly hid something in the drawer of his desk as he scrambled to pause whatever was playing, jabbing at random keys until the sound cut off.

His fingers slipped on the track pad three times before he managed to close the window.

“I didn’t hear you coming over the volume.” He tilted the screen down, not quite meeting my eyes.

His usually composed face was so flustered, I couldn’t resist asking, “Were you watching porn?”

His head snapped up. “I most certainly was not!” A hint of his Spanish accent slipped through—I must have properly rattled him.

The chair opposite his desk looked inviting, and standing was starting to feel awkward, so I dropped into it. “Suuuure.” I couldn’t help grinning at the way his eyebrows drew together in indignation.

“It’s late. My work has finished for the day. I’m allowed to watch an episode of my television show if I choose to.”

I held up my hands. “Alright, alright. Of course you’re allowed to watch TV.” I was glad he was doing something other than working for once. But the urge to tease him was too strong to resist. “Though I’m not going to believe it’s not porn unless you show me what it was.”

Seb opened his laptop with an exaggerated sigh. The paused scene showed a blonde girl in dated clothing wielding a wooden stake.

I recognised the show immediately. Katie and I had often watched reruns of it when we were kids, sprawled on the sofa together.

I couldn’t help it. I burst into laughter, which only intensified when he scowled at me. “You’re sitting in here alone, watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer ? That’s fucking brilliant.”

He leaned back in his office chair, the leather creaking beneath him. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No! I love Buffy. But if you’re Team Angel rather than Team Spike we can’t be friends anymore.”

“Please.” He rolled his eyes. “Angel is far too brooding. Though Spike’s accent is atrocious, at first.”

“It gets better and better.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve watched the whole thing”—he glanced guiltily at the laptop—“too many times to count. It was one of the first things I got Felix to set up for me, actually, when I hired him.”

Another laugh slipped out of me. “I bet teaching you how to stream Buffy on your laptop wasn’t in his original job description. Or is supernatural TV knowledge part of his pay grade? ”

“You jest, but this is important stuff. I need to understand how the general public views vampires.” His lips twitched. “For research purposes, of course.”

“Of course.” I shifted in my seat, the real reason for my visit pressing on my mind. “But look, speaking of social lives, sort of, Emma’s invited me around this evening for a small dinner party. And I wondered if I could go. Because I could do with some fun.”

Seb’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and something in his expression shifted. Had he thought I’d come to his office just to see him?

Because I totally would have, but I wasn’t sure if I was even allowed to—if he would want that.

“You should come with me!” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Oh shit. Emma would absolutely murder me.

“That sounds… delightful.” Seb’s voice went soft.

“But she won’t want me there.” He drummed his fingers on the desk, studying me intently.

“I’d rather not take unnecessary risks, but…

we’re still a way off the dark magic being fully incubated, thankfully.

And you’re right, you should be allowed a break from the hotel. Have some fun.”

“But you could have fun too.” My heart started racing at my own boldness. “Emma won’t mind. We could walk there together. It’s a nice evening for it.”

Seb’s gaze dropped to my chest for a split second, and I remembered—right. Vampire hearing. He could definitely hear my heart hammering away like an idiot. I willed my face not to flush.

“I should stay here. But I’ll have Rory accompany you.”

“Umm.” I shifted in my seat. “No way is Rory coming into Emma’s house. Not after yesterday.”

“What happened yesterday?” His brow furrowed.

I squirmed, not wanting to snitch. Rory and I were becoming friends.

Maybe. “Well, he was watching me at work. But he spent the whole shift texting Kit about how boring guard duty was, in between trying to chat my ear off. Then he moved on to harassing customers with bread puns. When they didn’t laugh, he turned to me and said, ‘Hey Flynn, these customers really knead to lighten up!’ and that’s when Emma threatened to kick him out. ”

Seb rubbed his face with two hands. “I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to him. That was incredibly unprofessional.”

“He’s a professional?” I raised my eyebrows.

Seb’s shoulders dropped. “Don’t be too quick to judge him.

Rory puts up a lot of fronts. He’s had a difficult time of it.

His pack in the Highlands—they weren’t kind to him.

Too set in their ways, too traditional.” He paused.

“Being smaller than most wolves, being different… well. Kit found out that he was sleeping rough in Glasgow.”

“Oh.” The image of Rory—bouncy Rory, so full of life—alone on the streets hit harder than expected.

“I hired him partially so Kit could keep an eye on him. Though don’t tell either of them that.” The hard edges of Seb’s face softened as his lips curved up into a slight smile. “He drives Kit up the wall, but they’re good for each other.”

“I like Rory. Even though he’s…” I waved my hand, searching for the right word.

“A lot?” Seb chuckled. “True. But he grows on you.”

“Like a fungus?”

“Precisely.” Seb winked at me. “But don’t worry about tonight. He’ll drop you there and wait in his car.”

“Does he not have plans of his own, though?” The thought of Rory sitting alone in his car all evening… “It’s Friday night.”

“I pay him generously for these duties.”

“Oh yeah?” I leaned forward. “Any positions going, then?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, I have been thinking about firing our receptionist, Dolly. She’s a tad stiff. She never takes her turn unloading the dishwasher, and between you and me, she’s been giving everyone the glass-eyed stare lately.”

I blinked at him. “Was that… an actual joke, Sebastián Salazar?”

His lips pursed together in mock anger, then he said, “I’ll have you know I’m capable of many jokes. When the occasion arises. ”

The silence stretched between us, comfortable but charged.

His dark eyes held mine, and for a moment I forgot why I’d even come to his office in the first place.

The way he was looking at me, with that hint of playfulness, had me melting into a puddle.

I found myself wanting to stay right here in this office, watching his face light up as he talked.

Then my phone buzzed in my pocket—probably Emma asking what time I’d be there—and reality crashed back in.

“Well. I’ll go get ready then.” The words came out quieter than I’d intended. Or I could forget about the whole thing, and we could stay here and watch some Buffy episodes together.

Seb nodded. “Have fun,” he said, though his lips pressed together afterwards.

I forced myself to my feet, his eyes lingering on me.

“Text Rory when you’re ready. Oh, and Flynn? I wanted to let you know how tirelessly the team is working to track down the cambion who marked you. Thank you for your patience, and thank you for agreeing to stay here. I should have said that before.”

I almost told him that as bizarre as they all were, Killigrew Street was an upgrade in the housemate department.

At the door, I paused, glancing back. Seb had already reopened his laptop, probably ready to unpause Buffy. The image of him sitting alone in his office all evening made my heart physically hurt.

I pulled the door shut behind me and headed down the corridor, trying not to think about how much I’d rather stay with him.

I shuffled down the dimly lit corridor of the hotel’s third floor, munching on crackers I’d nicked from the kitchen.

The last few days had been odd. Since our chat in Seb’s office, I’d secretly hoped to spend more time with him.

And I had been—sort of .

Sometimes he’d materialise at my side while I loaded the ancient dishwasher, asking about my sister Katie or what the sea looked like during winter storms in Braymore.

If I liked tea more than coffee, if Rising Dough had sold out of bread that day.

His questions were precise, calculated, almost like they’d been prepared.

He’d smile at my responses—proper smiles that reached his eyes—and stretch past me to grab a tea towel, his sleeve brushing my arm.

But then he’d vanish again. I’d catch glimpses of him striding through the hotel, phone pressed to his ear, that black coat swirling behind him like a shadow. If our paths crossed, he’d give me this tight, strained look before hurrying off to whatever crisis needed his attention.

I knew he was busy—trying to track down Damien, to save my life, or whatever.

But still. The hotel felt colder somehow, when he kept his distance.