Page 5 of Wildfire Witch

I was still confused until he gestured toward my apartment door.Oh. He wanted to store all that fireproof gear he wore inside. Something I should’ve offered, else we’d be turning heads for however long this lunch date lasted. I let him in so he could take off that heavy-looking layer and focused on my phoenix again.

“I’m protective because he’s ours, and he can help us,”she said.

“You keep repeating ‘ours’,”I said.

“Yes.”She paused. The heartburn sensation that gripped my chest was unmistakably her thinking hard.“He can help us,”she repeated.

“How?”

“I don’t remember. He just will!”she snapped.

Ceridor emerged from my apartment in a black shirt and pants. The tight material clung to his lean form, hinting at the outline of muscles in all the right places. I forced my gaze back up to his, so I wasn’t ogling him.

He watched my scowling expression turn into that quick perusal and lifted a suggestive eyebrow. “That was an internal argument face,” he commented. “Hopefully about lunch. Have a favorite place within walking distance?”

“Sure,” I said, a complete lie. I could barely afford the apartment I shared with a near-stranger, who was always away working one of two retail jobs. I ate what I could sneak away from the café or the cheapest offerings at the supermarket, not anything from the bougie strip malls nearby.

He checked his phone while I led him in that direction. “I will pay, of course,” he said. With a soft ‘huh’ he returned the device to his pocket.

“Thank you,” I said.

An awkward silence stretched between us during the walk and the time it took me to pick a noodle shop for lunch. I had so many questions for my surprise-husband, but I didn’t want to talk in a busy crowd, and, well. Now that the shock had worn off, the intrusive thoughts were crowding my headspace.He saw something inme? Really?

My curse was the most interesting thing about me, after the memory loss that came with my deaths and subsequent resurrections. He’d probably find me as interesting as an overcooked piece of toast once we sat down for a serious chat.

No, don’t think that way. You clean up well. You’re like a seven in a dress and heels.

But what if he remembers a much different Nix?

I was likely much different than the woman he’d once loved. This man who could be my savior was about to have his rose tinted glasses removed and then we would see if I lived up to the “Verity” in his mind.

We were shown to a table and, once we ordered, I no longer had the barrier of a menu to hide behind. Ceridor had a dreamy look of nostalgia as he took me in, chin propped on his fist.

“I can hardly believe I finally found you,” he said in a fond whisper.

“Relax,”Aodhnait finally huffed.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to this. It’s too intimate,”I answered. He was looking at me like I’d hung the stars, and I hadn’t done a single thing to deserve that.

At Ceridor’s request, we’d been seated in a quiet corner booth. Our conversation would have some privacy. I also didn’t have to worry about sitting in a chair next to the windows with views out to the sidewalk and parking lot. No need to keep an eye out for any sign of fire bros.

I hadn’t been so preoccupied with Ceridor that I’d forgotten to note the entrances and exits. Like always, I’d picked a seat with my back to a wall. I was ready to flee if I spotted an uncommonly large man or woman with a hint of an animal side to them and I never took chances or waited to see if a shifter had the iconic flame tattoo before fleeing. It was the only choice if the fire bros found me again…run like hell.

“You are uncomfortable.” A hint of Ceridor’s fae magic slipped into his voice, cool and soothing. He gestured to my hand, which was still bandaged. “This hurts you?”

I jumped on the easy lifeline he’d offered, nodding and humming in agreement.

“I’m not so dense as to avoid acknowledging that I must be part of your discomfort as well.” He hesitated, searching my face andsighing at what he saw, or didn’t see. He must be looking for any spark of his old flame, a woman who was long turned to ash. “What do you remember of your past, Verity?”

“Nix,” I corrected again.

He ignored that and started asking rapid-fire questions, “Do you remember Spells Hollow?”

I shook my head no.

“What of Royce?”

“Who’s that?” I replied. It was another old-fashioned name, and I had the niggling feeling that I should know it.

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