Page 26

Chapter 26

Kaya

T he next donator is Delixian. I swallow as he leans down and sets a hand on the table. He is such a handsome pixie with his large, muscular arms, transparent wings, and dark blue skin.

“Hello,” I say, suddenly shy.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, eyeing my thumb.

“Very good. Thanks for all your help.”

“Anytime.”

Is he interested in me? I never considered him. He’s always so businesslike during healings, and I haven’t spoken to him often outside of those scenarios.

Widow Warton is leaving her booth, and I can’t tell who is taking over; there are too many people blocking my view. Was that a wing I just saw?

“Kaya?”

I face Delixian. “Aye?”

“Are you all right with me kissing you?” he asks politely.

“I’m sitting in a kissing booth, so yes.” I smile and my body warms.

He grins. “But I might want to really kiss you.”

What does he mean? With tongue? Or is it like he is interested in me and his kiss will mean something? I’m lost.

“I…” I know I’m five shades of red. “Yes. I would like that.”

His smile is very nice, and his gaze is confident and kind. I give up trying to figure anything out, edge forward, and close my eyes.

Delixian’s lips are cool and quick. His tongue darts between my lips and I tangle mine with his. Desire slips down my spine and coils low in my stomach. I open my mouth further and his hand slides around the back of my head. The kiss deepens, and it feels lovely, but my body isn’t responding like it did to Cyrus. I don’t feel like I’m going to explode with want. It is good, though. Like getting a pleasant massage at the Acorn Inn after a long day of working dough.

He breaks away and his eyes are shining. “Kaya,” he whispers. “Promise you’ll dance with me once your shift is over?”

“All right. I’ll meet you over there as soon as I’m finished.”

He leaves with a wave.

“Good afternoon. Or should I say evening?” a new voice says.

It’s my next donor. He’s a goblin with that same curl to his hair that the butcher and his daughter have.

“I’m visiting my brother. My name’s Thirron.”

“Are you a butcher too? I wasn’t sure if that was a family business going back or not.”

“We look that much alike, do we? You knew who I was right away.” He seems delighted.

“You do.”

He grins. “I was a butcher. My family has been in the business for four generations. I’ve gone into vegetables though, so I’m the proverbial black sheep now.”

“Ooo, a rebel.” I lean forward and pucker up.

A very familiar voice breaks my concentration and I turn my head to see Cyrus taking the seat at the other kissing booth. Thirron misses the mark and kisses my temple.

“Ah, sorry,” he stutters out.

“I, what?” I mutter.

Cyrus is about to kiss a leggy fairy. I can’t breathe. In slow motion, he looks my way, then lets her lay a kiss right on his lips. My stomach twists and sours.

“Everything all right?” Thirron asks.

I blink and shake my head. “Yes, so sorry. Go right ahead.” My smile feels more like a grimace, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He comes close, his large body taking up most of the booth’s wooden frame.

“What do you like in a kiss?” he asks. “Should I be easygoing or bring it on?”

“I don’t know.” I wish he would just be confident and do it already.

He nods nervously and kisses me. It’s a simple one and does absolutely nothing for me. He says something else, and I mumble good night, but I’m too busy eyeing Cyrus’s next donor to worry about Thirron.

Blessed Stones, Tully is in Cyrus’s line now, too, farther back. I laugh and she waves at me, shimmying her hips. Argos is with her, and I wonder if he’ll get a kiss too.

Cyrus is talking to the next person in his line. She must be a tourist because I don’t recognize her. He comes out from behind the booth to kiss this tourist with the long black hair. He drops her into a dip of sorts, and as he kisses her, he looks up at me and makes direct eye contact.

Desire zings down my body. I clench my thighs. His half-lidded gaze stays locked on me while he nibbles the tourist’s bottom lip. Then he is raising her up and she is laughing and grinning like she just won a bag of gold. Cyrus says something to her, his hand on her lower back, then he glances my way again and raises both eyebrows like he is challenging me.

I feel so strange. Too wound up. Like I’ve had five cups of very strong tea with absolute mounds of sugar.

I could leave the booth and opt out of this bizarre competition Cyrus seems to want between us. Or I could stay.

Yep, I’m going to surprise him and join in on this little game.

I wink at Cyrus, not sure if it comes out right. His face goes slack for a second, and then he is grinning fiercely. Always the competitor.

I face my next donor. It’s another tourist, this one of average height with very dreamy lavender eyes. He’s likely part fairy. His kiss is sweet and solid, very pleasant. I part my lips to see if he’ll follow my lead. I wish he would lead, but it seems like everyone is too polite. I shouldn’t complain, but I can’t help silently comparing all kisses to Cyrus’s.

I slide my gaze sideways to see if Cyrus is watching. He is, and smoke is pouring from his nostrils. Twin lioness shifters are kissing his cheeks, but he doesn’t noticeably react to them. No, he is just staring at me with black smoke twisting out of his nose.

I close my eyes and finish the kiss, pulling away.

Why would Cyrus be fuming? He started this competition.

I try to ignore him and work my way through my line. Some folks are sweet and just give me a peck on the cheek, others—like Grumlin the tavern keeper’s cousin, Maeve—kiss me thoroughly after I convince them I’m all right with it.

Betilda comes rushing toward our booths, two long sheets of parchment in her hands.

“You’re both doing so well! We are going to hit our goal in no time.”

She pins a sheet on each of our booths. They show a series of hatch marks and a line. My marks are nearly at the top, which is marked with a star. Cyrus’s aren’t far behind.

“I’m going to beat you,” I say to Cyrus over the crowd, the music, and the young ones running about.

“Not a chance!” he calls back. His grin is vicious and my body melts at the sight of it.

We kiss more folks that come through our lines, our gazes drawn toward each other like magnets. Betilda keeps us supplied with iced cakes and glasses of very cold ale. It’s fun, but there is also a side of me that feels incredibly odd. Hot. Frustrated. This all just feels so strange.

I’m five marks from the star on my parchment when Delixian returns.

“Back so soon?” I say.

“If you are as happy to see me as I am you. If not, I can go.”

I’m not sure I am as excited to see him, but he is nice. “Of course, I am.”

He hitches a hip to the table and lifts my chin with one blue finger. He smiles and studies my face before pressing a kiss to my lips. I pull away and glance toward Cyrus.

Cyrus gives Zemy a good kiss, bracing the goat shifter up against his body. Cyrus never did take his seat again.

Delixian moans into my mouth, and his tongue delves farther. I grip his muscular shoulders, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around me. Delixian notices my line is currently lagging due to Argos, who is setting up what looks like another experiment and drawing most folks’ attention. Delixian takes the opportunity to hold me longer and whisper sweet things in my ear.

Zemy is gone now and Cyrus is kissing Plum, the tailor. The water sprite’s wings sparkle and flutter as Cyrus smoothes a hand over her blue hair.

I’m on fire. But I can’t let him get to me.

“Kaya, did you hear me?” Delixian cups my face and looks into my eyes.

“Ah, no. Sorry.”

“Let me help you focus on your goal,” he says, a teasing note in his voice.

I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss Delixian back. Our hips meet, and I can tell that the healer is getting rather more aroused than he should be at a little festival kissing booth. That makes two of us, but it’s not him that I’m worked up about.

Heat rises around me. More than just the heat of my body… A crackling sound has me opening my eyes. There are flames everywhere. It dissipates quickly, and if the damage wasn’t obvious, I’d have thought I imagined it. The booth is nothing but a charred husk. My wicker chair is a pile of charcoal. The ground around me is scorched and Delixian.

Delixian is grimacing and shaking out his hand. Blisters show along his palm. “Cyrus, I’m guessing you did this?”

Cyrus exhales roughly, smoke pouring from his mouth. “Sorry.”

After throwing a quiet curse Cyrus’s way, Delixian asks one of the servers for one of the injury kits he brought to the festival, and they walk off to retrieve it.

I’m not so foolish that I can’t see why Cyrus’s fire magic rose up. He’s jealous. Of me. But he doesn’t actually want me as a partner; he isn’t going to settle down. We both know it. And this behavior of his isn’t fair. He can’t have it both ways.

Now, I’m mad. He ruined Betilda’s booth and caught Delixian on fire.

I storm over to him and poke him in the chest with my forefinger.

“Listen, you. If you can’t control your competitive streak, then you should go. You burned Delixian and ruined half of the orphanage’s efforts to raise funds. You’re selfish, Cyrus.”

Am I being too harsh? I feel off. Angry. Itchy. Frustrated. I want him out of my sight so I can think straight again. My head pounds with the ale I’ve had and the noise of the festival.

Cyrus swallows and rubs the back of his neck. He tosses something at Betilda as she runs up and shouts questions.

“You’re right, Kaya. I need to leave you alone. Tell Delixian I am sorry.”

There’s a snap and a wash of light, and then Cyrus is in full dragon form, flying away into the evening sky.

I stomp and fist my hands, long past being able to act like a reasonable person. “Ugh! That male is infuriating!”

Delixian returns with his hand smeared in salve. He looks up and then stares at me. “You’re in love with Cyrus, aren’t you?”

My face goes white hot. “I most certainly am not.”

Laini and Tully rush up and cover me in questions. I do my best to answer them, allowing them to lead me away to some seats by the food table. I eat my weight in rolls, and then try to dance my anger away with my friends.

Finally—wearing a tired smile that doesn’t feel as happy as I wish it was—I leave the festival.

Stupid dragon. He ruined tonight. But I feel bad about shouting at him. I can’t quite untangle where things went wrong and why I feel guilty. It’s a problem for tomorrow.

At home, I collapse into bed with Sio at my feet.

I dream of scales, fire, and a pair of lips I didn’t kiss tonight.