Page 77 of Evil Hearts

Date Two

Zenith

I t feels almost unfair to be going on this date after what feels like so little sleep. I don’t know when I was in hell until because time doesn’t really work there, but when I woke up in my bed with a note from Dante and an aftercare kit, it was three in the morning. Leander deserves a bit more pep in my step and effort for this date, but he is getting a messy bun, oversized sweater, and leggings vibe instead.

I groan into my coffee cup, slurping the startlingly hot liquid flavored with pumpkin spice. I fucking love a pumpkin spice latte. I check my phone on the table, trying not to get discouraged by Leander being one whole minute late.

He’s probably busy; it’s not like this is that important. I bet he has cool mothperson stuff to do.

The bell above the door rings frantically as Leander bursts in, his jacket halfway hanging off one shoulder and the bag that was obviously slung on that shoulder now acting as a bracelet.

“Zenith! My deepest apologies,” he says, rushing over to the two-person table I claimed for us beside the window. The clouds are heavy and gray, meaning rain is inevitable, but I’m not afraid to get a little wet. I’m not sure how his wings would fare, though.

“Hey, Leander, good of you to show up.” I let a little of my sass bleed into the words.

“I never meant to be late. In fact, I was set to be ten minutes early, but then I was stopped on the street on the way here by someone from my father’s court. I couldn’t exactly tell them to bugger off. There was a lot they needed to fill me in on.” he rambles as he sits down, setting his bag on the table. His soft gray cheeks turn almost purple with a blush. “Again, apologies.”

“It’s fine, prince life, right?” I snicker a little, thinking of the other time in the past twenty-four hours I called someone the prince of something.

“Exactly, but that doesn’t matter. You, Zenith, are what matters most today. I can’t say enough how sorry I am.” He runs a hand through his hair, those long black claws raking through the inky-black strands. He’s weirdly pretty up close.

“It’s fine, really. Just buy me a pastry and we’ll call it even.” I shrug.

“Of course.” There is a little chirp to his words as he stands and makes his way to the order counter. He points into the case multiple times, making wide gestures before he takes a small plate with a cup of espresso on it and joins me.

“That doesn’t look like a croissant,” I tease.

“I special ordered something for you. Don’t worry, it will be right up,” he says with a soft, pleased smile. As he settles, he crosses one leg over the other and takes the espresso cup delicately from the plate. He sips it and sighs. “Good espresso and better company. What better way to begin the day?”

“I could think of at least three better ways,” I grumble. “All of them involving waiting to start the day until afternoon.”

“A night owl then?” he asks tipping his head, those large ruby-colored eyes staring right at me.

I fidget a bit with my cup, chewing on the straw to keep from saying something stupid. It’s hard to read him. Those eyes are basically one color, so they don’t express a lot, and the soft, grayish-brown downy stuff that covers his skin only turned a little purple when he was really embarrassed.

“You could say that,” I murmur. I tap at my phone screen, pulling up a few of my late-night telescope pictures. “I do some photography, and I like night shots the best.”

Leander leans over, and his eyes widen as they take in the image on my screen. “This is incredible, Zenith. I’m truly amazed by your skill.”

“It’s just the sky.” I blush, pushing down the swell of pride and pleasure his words impart.

“Nonsense, this is fantastic. The clarity and color of each star is unmatched by anything but NASA’s own telescopes,” he goes on, tapping on my screen and going to another shot of the sky, this time with a crescent moon. “Stunning,” he breathes, something like awe weaving into his tone.

“You really know how to butter a girl up.” A giggle slips past my lips.

“There is no bluster to be found here. Trust me, these are excellent,” he says with a smile.

“I would trust you, but I’m curious about your fae side. You are a fae mothman, right? The file they gave me after the show had some details, but they were making me dizzy,” I admit, thinking back to the files on all my dates and the fact that the one I’m meeting tomorrow is a lich.

“Yes, my father is the grand duke of the unseelie fae. He took my mother as a consort some years ago, but she has since passed.” His voice is wistful. “Lots of fae things to deal with day to day, being a good son and all that.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” I reach across the table, resting one hand on top of his. The fur on his skin feels like velvet, and I stroke my thumb across his knuckles. “I lost my mother too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Though I’m sure your loss is much fresher than mine,” he says, dipping his head, his big eyes taking in my hand atop his. He slowly shifts his hand so his palm is up and he’s holding mine. “But nonetheless, thank you. You are too kind, Zenith.”

The kitchen door swings open and a large cart is wheeled out, a three-tiered tray stuffed to the brim with treats the only thing resting on it. When it pulls up beside our table, I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but I find myself blushing and sputtering a little. This is the exact kind of sweet shit you read about in romance books where the sexy stuff doesn’t come until you’re seventy percent into the book. I’m not patient enough for that, especially when given gifts by a handsome man.

“Here is my formal apology,” Leander says, gesturing to the treat tower. “Eat as much as you like; the rest will be packed up and I will have it driven to your home.”

“I think I love you,” I blurt as I grab a decadent seven-layer chocolate cake and dig in with the comically small fork on the table.

Leander’s entire face goes that darling dusky purple and his antennae curl slightly, almost forming a heart.