Page 40

“It’s not.” I suck at this. Officially. I desperately cast around for a better way — or a distraction — but nothing comes up. How did Syril do this?

They handed you the amulet and told you to put it on.

Clumsily, I dig the two amulets out of my pocket and drop them on the table.

One I’m intimately familiar with — the dark red gem winks at me from its demure setting.

The other is bright blue-green, dancing with an inner fire.

For some reason, it suits Fitzie. It feels right for him to have it. I push it across the table.

“Plato’s a minotaur. And the cook, Larch, he’s a gargoyle. There are these monsters called riiga who can breathe underwater — like mermaids, except kinda creepy. And Lysander is…" I swallow. Fitzie is staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. “… a fairy prince.”

“Ez, are you sure you’re okay?” He touches the back of my hand, and it’s so unexpected I almost get emotional. “You’re still clean, right?”

I squeeze his hand tightly. “Yeah. I’m okay, Fitzie. I’m actually pretty damn good. Just put the necklace on.”

“Okay.” He pulls his hand back, but he doesn’t take the amulet. “You’re telling me your coworkers are all, like, supernatural beings?”

“Monsters.”

“Even your boyfriend?”

“He’s not…" I break off at his look.

“Sorry, I should’ve said fairy with benefits .” He rolls his eyes.

I groan. “I deserved that.”

“You expect me to believe he’s a fairy prince, but you don’t have feelings for him?”

“Like I said, it’s complicated. You know, cause he’s a fairy. And a prince.”

Fitzie’s gaze drops to the amulets, then back to me.

“At least take it,” I tell him. “You can decide later.”

Syril gave me a choice — stay in their world, or leave empty-handed. I can’t do that to Fitzie. I trust him with my life and I know he’d never betray that trust, and the rest of the monster world is just gonna have to trust him alongside me.

Reluctantly, Fitzie picks it up by the cord. “I believe you.”

“I know.”

“I just need time. On the scale of weird shit you’ve told me, this is pretty high.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “The truth isn’t going anywhere. Tell me this is better than getting a call from jail, though.”

“Nothing will top that, asshole.” He gives me a shaky smile. “I can’t believe they let your sorry ass stick around here.”

I laugh. “Me neither. Guess Syril was having an off day.”

I leave my amulet off. It feels weird, especially when Lysander comes down, but from the looks Fitzie keeps shooting at him it’s the right move. The bar gets busier in anticipation of the show — Bear’s doing a rope demo with a willing nymph, which I hope Lysander will be okay about.

Fitzie leans in when Lysander disappears to get drinks. “What does he really look like?”

“Pretty,” I tell him without really thinking, and Fitzie chokes on a laugh.

“You’ve got it bad.”

“Shut up. He’s gorgeous. Uh, green, I guess.

Like, a kind of… delicate blue-ish green.

” I wrack my brains trying to find the words to describe Lysander.

What did I think of him the first time I saw him for real?

Shortly after that I watched him get tied up and suspended and my brain melted into a puddle, so I might be biased. “He’s delicate all over, really.”

Except when he turns into a spiky defence mechanism.

Fitzie arches a brow. “He looks European. You know, as a human.”

“I think he came from overseas. But also, that’s ridiculous. You can’t look European. There are, like, fifty countries in Europe.”

“You know what I mean! Like one of those English prep school boys.” He smirks. “ Pretty .”

My face is getting hot. Pretty is definitely my type, much as I try to pretend I’m above being shallow. Lysander’s human form caught my eye the very first time we met. And his scent — posh, too, like an expensive cologne. But it didn’t take long to see there was so much more to him.

He’s brave, sweet, and open. I’ve never been a feel your feelings guy, but with Lysander it’s almost compulsive to open up to him, to share things I’ve never shared. He lives in the moment, his reactions real, his needs on display.

With Jasper, everything was always fake. Big, over-the-top displays of affection. A different persona for every interaction — buddies, customers, even I got a tailored version of him. And when he finally un-masked, the person underneath was cold and self-centered.

Lysander is the opposite. Reserved and cool on the surface, but warm and needy and giving underneath. And god, I love it.

I spot him coming across the floor and my pulse kicks. He slides a drink in front of me and I wrap my arm around his waist as he leans into my chair. The tall stools put us almost at the same height.

“You want to sit?” I murmur in his ear.

“No.” He smiles, but his eyes are wary. I catch him glancing at Fitzie, who’s watching the stage.

“Stay.” I squeeze his soft waist. “He’s okay.”

“He hasn’t put it on.” Lysander looks worried.

“He just needs to adjust,” I reassure him.

Fitzie’s not like me, pushing through life without thinking, jumping into everything headfirst. He’s cautious about the stuff that matters. It makes my heart ache to think about why.

When Bear comes on stage, Lysander stiffens against me.

He’s followed by a nymph in human illusion who bows to the cheering crowd with a cheeky grin.

I do my best not to react to Lysander’s tension and give him space for whatever he’s feeling.

Bear directs the nymph to hold the ring hanging from the ceiling and lift his left leg into his chest as Bear preps the rope.

We have a great view from our table of the nymph’s bulging muscles as he tries to hold still under Bear’s hands.

Fitzie leans in. “Who’s that ? The big guy.”

“That’s Bear,” I tell him. “He’s the Dom who used to do a show with Lysander.”

“No, I mean.” Fitzie looks to either side of us, but no one’s paying attention. “What kind of… monster is he?”

“He’s a dragon.” Lysander answers him, leaning across me to speak quietly. His scent tickles my nose. “He’s one of the sons of the dragon king.”

Fiztie scrunches his nose. “He just looks like a normal guy.”

“To the un-enchanted eye, yes.”

“He’s got horns, a tail, and armored skin,” I interject. I recognize that look. “Plus his claws are so long and sharp, they could slice through those ropes in a heartbeat.”

Fitzie’s eyebrows go up. To my dismay, instead of being deterred, a spark of interest flickers in his eyes. “He’s actually a dragon?”

I groan. Fitzie goes through men like another person might go through tissues. “I don’t think he’s the love ‘em and leave ‘em type.”

“And you used to get tied up by him?” Fitzie glances at Lyander, then back to me, the question obvious.

“It was all highly professional. For him, it’s a way of life more than anything.” He answers diplomatically even though Fitzie all but asked if him and Bear used to be an item.

“So with Ezra, you guys…?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” I interrupt. Lysander bites his lip.

Fitzie smirks. “All I’m saying is, I wouldn’t mind if a guy like that was less than professional with me.”

“Hey, you guys talking about Bear?” Orion pops up behind us, dropping his elbows on the table. “I love gossip. Have you heard about his brother’s marriage contract? He’s that rich motherfucker who owns the chalet.”

“Ooh, tell me,” Fitzie demands.

Lysander shoots me a bright, sizzling look as he fidgets with the hem of his shirt. A faint, familiar flush inches up his jaw. The corner of my mouth quirks and I tighten my grip on him. This is one thing I don’t mind keeping from Fitzie.