Page 15 of Consume Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #4)

Kendall

A fter work, I spend way too long staring at the clothes in my closet like they’re going to transform into the perfect date night outfit.

They don’t. They just keep hanging there, most items either torn from past encounters doing the daggers’ dirty work or stained with things like vampire venom or Unicorn’s breath.

None of it seems right for “date night with the infuriatingly hot fae wolf who kidnapped me because he planned to kill me, but then realized I was his mate.”

Ugh. I can’t bring myself to ask Natalia to repeat her fairy godmother act though. Not when I know how much shit she’ll give me for not telling her about Noctan being my mate. Worse, she’ll want to know how I feel about him, but I’m not even sure I know the answer to that yet.

In the end, I snag a pair of fitted jeans and a black long-sleeve with shoulder cutouts. I leave my hair hanging loose and wavy, mostly since I’m too nervous to figure out anything else .

By the time eight rolls around, my nerves are wired so tight I’m considering calling the whole thing off. But then there’s a knock, and when I open the door?—

Oh.

Oh no.

I’m so fucking screwed.

He’s leaning against the frame like he has all the time in the world, the light catching in his dark hair and highlighting his cheekbones to the point of criminal.

His white, long-sleeved shirt looks soft and casual enough to make him seem almost normal…

except he could never pass for normal. Not with those eyes.

Not with that face. And definitely not with the way the air shifts around him like it’s aware of his very presence.

“You clean up nice,” I say, aiming for breezy but landing somewhere between breathless and gasping.

One corner of his mouth lifts. “You look…” His gaze takes its time, dragging down my body in a slow sweep that leaves my skin tingling. “…dangerous.”

I arch a brow. “And you’re still here?”

“I like dangerous,” he says, as if that explains everything. “Speaking of which, I was going to ask you if you’d left the dagger at home, but I think those pants leave no room for confusion. Gods, they’re like a second skin.”

“You like them?” I ask innocently.

The hunger in his eyes is thinly veiled. “Very much.”

I grab my jacket before I forget how to breathe and step outside, shutting the door behind me.

When I turn, I catch him staring at my ass.

The bastard doesn’t even try to hide it as he motions for me to go first down the stairs.

I decide it’s not that evil to put an extra swish in my hips as I lead the way.

When we’re both outside, I look over at him and find his eyes once again fastened to mine. “So, where are we going?” I ask as we start walking.

He falls into step beside me, hands in his pockets like he’s not a walking weapon wrapped in mortal clothes. “I thought we’d walk.”

“That’s the big plan?”

“Moonlight. Fresh air. No daggers trying to whisper in your head.” He gives me a sidelong look, and I realize my hand has already drifted toward his without me thinking about it. I don’t take it—yet—but the buzzing in my head makes me ache for it.

We walk in comfortable quiet for a while, the streets thinning out as the shops give way to neighborhoods. The air smells like night-blooming flowers and something crisp from the approaching winter. I tell myself my heart is beating faster because of the chill. I’m a terrible liar.

“So, this is your idea of a date,” I say finally. “Walking aimlessly under the stars?”

“Not aimlessly,” he says, and there’s something in his voice that makes me look up.

“What are you planning?” I ask warily.

“For starters, dinner,” he says.

“And then?”

He shrugs. “If I’m lucky, dessert.”

I snort, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips. “You’ll have to earn dessert, wolf.”

“Challenge accepted,” he murmurs, and my pulse stutters .

He leads me a few more blocks, and I realize he’s steering with intent. When we round the corner, my eyes widen. “No way.”

A warm glow spills out onto the street from tall windows framed in ivy. Inside, crystal chandeliers glitter over tables draped in white linen. Elysian. The most coveted reservations in the city.

I gape. “How the hell did you even?—”

“Scoped it out earlier,” he says, infuriatingly casual. “Figured you deserved more than pub food.”

“You’re not even from here. How did you know the best place to eat?”

His lips twitch. “I’d like to think my centuries of recon training have amounted to something useful.”

I let him hold the door for me, not caring one bit if he’s staring at my ass again.

I’m too busy staring at the inside of Elysian as the hostess leads us to our reserved table.

It’s intimate, candlelight flickering between us, soft music threading through the air.

I tell myself it’s the ambience making me warm, not the way his gaze lingers from across the table.

A waiter appears with wine glasses full of water and menus. Everything looks delicious, so it takes me way too long to pick something. Eventually, we order, and the waiter leaves us alone.

Noctan leans forward, forearms braced on the table. “Tell me about you.”

I blink. “What, like… my favorite color? How I take my coffee? Or how many people I’ve killed for the daggers? ”

“Let’s start with the first two categories,” he says with a slight smirk. “The things that make you… you.”

The heat in his eyes makes me squirm. I fiddle with the edge of the tablecloth, stalling. “There’s not much to tell. I’m the youngest of two. My mom was a nymph. My dad was dark fae. I grew up in the Crossroads.”

He raises a brow. “That apartment fit a family of four?”

“No. I’ve only been living above Spells for about a year and a half. Ever since the daggers…” I trail off, shrugging. “Natalia had already been training me for a couple of years, and I knew she wasn’t using the place. It’s not home, though. Just… where I crash.”

His brows draw together. “Where’s home?”

That question cuts sharper than I expected. I trace the rim of my water glass with a fingertip. “Doesn’t matter. The daggers don’t belong there. So, until we’re parted, neither do I.”

“You don’t want the blades to know you in that way.”

I look up, surprised at how easily he gets it. Gets me. “I don’t want them to use my vulnerabilities against me.”

“I used to think love was a vulnerability too. A weakness. But I’m beginning to think I was wrong. That it actually makes me stronger.”

“You destroyed that dagger like it was nothing. What could you possibly need more strength for?”

“The self-control necessary to keep from touching you through that delicious shirt, for one thing.”

The compliment is so unexpected that I’m instantly lost in images of him doing just that. My face heats, but not from embarrassment. No, I’m flushed from wanting him.

Here.

In the middle of Elysian.

Over appetizers, no less.

“That’s second-date behavior,” I tease, picking up my water glass and sipping just so I’ll have something to do with my hands.

“Noted.” He’s way too serious and intense, like he’s taken my word as a bargain.

I shudder, remembering the way it felt when he touched me last night. With no shirt between his hands and my skin.

He watches me across the table like he’s thinking of it too.

“I once had my nipples pierced.”

I nearly spit out my drink.

“What?” I manage, swiping my mouth while he watches bemused.

“Your nose piercing reminded me,” he says as if that’s all the explanation I need after what he just said.

I shake my head and set my glass firmly out of reach—for safety. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you do not seem like the kind of guy who pierces his nipples.”

To my surprise, he laughs. “You’re not wrong. It was a drunken dare.”

“Ah, I stand corrected. You absolutely seem like a drunken dare kind of male.”

His lips remain curved upward, a small twinkle glimmering in his dark gaze. The happy expression he wears does something to my insides. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m the one who put it there after all his perpetual scowling.

“So, who dared you? And how was it?” I prompt when he doesn’t go on.

“Makim, one of my cadre, was a menace at parties. He thought I brooded too much, so one night he got me drunk enough to ‘fix it.’ His words.”

I shake my head, mostly because I already see Makim’s point. But I keep my mouth shut and let Noctan go on.

“At about two in the morning, when I could barely stand upright, he dared me to get my nipples pierced.” He grimaces. “I said no, of course. He accused me of being a coward and a bore and dragged me to the smith anyway. I figured the first one would shut him up.”

Laughter bubbles up and out; I can’t help it. “And did it?”

He shakes his head. “He insisted it had to be both. And Skol—the bastard—actually held me down for the second one. Claimed it was for my own good.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what was worse—the piercing or Makim bragging about it for a century after.”

“Your cadre sounds like fun,” I say.

His smile turns wistful. “They were.”

The mood shifts, and I silently curse the daggers—again—for what they took from this beautiful male.

“And, uh, do you, uh, still have them?” I ask, suddenly awkward about the mental images distracting me.

“You’d know if I did,” he points out, and I know he’s referencing that moment on his couch where I rubbed my body against his, getting to know it intimately before I’d even gotten to know him.

“Good point,” I say, cheeks heating, because, gods, it would be hot if he did have them.

The silence that follows is heavy, but not uncomfortable. It feels like he’s seeing right through me, though, and I hate how much I want him to. And not just about nipple piercings. About everything I’ve told him tonight.

Finally, he leans back, studying me with that maddening calm. “You’re wrong, you know.”

I snap my gaze to his. “Excuse me?”

“You belong wherever you decide you do,” he says, like it’s the simplest truth in the world.