Page 81 of Lessons with the Mothman

"I've considered it," Elias admitted.

"That's a lot of people coming and going in your space. A lot of insurance. Probably a liquor license somewhere along the line," Hannah mused, perched on a barstool as she watched Rafe cook, accepting small spoonfuls of flavors to test.

Elias only hummed in acknowledgement, then began to shake our drinks. I stepped closer, sliding my hand beneath his wings to rest against his back, noting the tense and thenease of muscle beneath my palm. His gaze was lowered to the ingredients and bottles he'd spread before him.

He's overwhelmed, I realized, although I couldn't guess the exact cause. So many people in his house all at once? The pressure of their suggestions? Or something simpler and sweeter?

He set the cocktail shaker down and leaned against me briefly.

"Ice?" Theo offered.

"Please," Elias answered.

"How many rooms could you use for the supper club?" I asked, catching Elias and Rafe's attention.

"More than just the dining room?" Rafe asked, surprised.

Elias straightened, shoulders lightening as he thought. "The entrance, obviously. Maybe the apéritif and hors d'oeuvres in the library. Time for introductions?"

Rafe brightened and nodded in answer.

"The dining room," Elias continued. "And what would you think of coffee and dessert in the solarium?"

"Can we scale back some of the interior design at dinner?" Rafe asked, arching a brow.

Elias tipped his head in consideration. "Would you be willing to make a spectacle of the kitchen between courses?"

Rafe hesitated, and Hannah nudged his thigh with the tip of her foot. "You love talking flavor. And a quarter of the club will be all of us here, so you can just talk to us."

"Chefs usually go to the table at some point," Rafe allowed. "And I keep a tidy kitchen. All right, but I get final say on anything you do in here. It can't interfere with the cooking."

"Fair enough," Elias said. "Do you have photos of the plating yet? I want to think about lighting."

Elias looked almostsluggish as we entered his room at the end of the night. I watched him stretch, rolling his shoulders, and hovered by the door.

"Do you want me to leave you for the night?" I asked. I knew the signs of an overloaded introvert. To be honest, I was one at the moment too.

"Do you want to leave?" Elias asked, spinning to face me, words a little sharp.

I started to shake my head and then paused, thinking it over properly. "No," I said, more certain of my answer this time. "I want to stay, but I don't think I want to play patient, if that's all right."

Elias blinked and then sagged even further. "Oh, good. I agree. Do you know what Idowant?"

"Hmm?"

"I want to lay in bed next to you, reading."

I smiled at that. "Can I borrow a book?"

And so we stripped in silence, Elias down to nothing and me to a camisole and my underwear. I found a battered thriller tucked between autobiographies and poetry collections and travel guides, and Elias held back the covers for me to slide in next to him.

We both sighed. Elias's arm reached to wrap around my shoulders and I settled closer, savoring the tickle of his fur and heat of his body.

"Your friends are fun," I said, opening the book.

"Mmm. I am lucky," he said, so quietly it was almost a private statement. "I don't usually enjoy thrillers, but that one is special. See if you can find my favorite character."

I nodded and parted the cover.

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