Page 15 of Whisper Woods

It’s late enough now that after I find something to eat, the club will be in full swing. So I give myself one last glance over, satisfied that I look suitably rakish enough for the night's endeavours—whatever they may entail—I leave the hotel room in search of dinner, only having to double back once to retrieve my wallet, hotel key, and phone.

Anticipation swirls in my guts, making me uncharacteristically fidgety as I step into the elevator.

The answers you seek begin at slash. On the short ride down, and out the lobby into the streets of Twin Heads, the prophecy marches through my head. All to the beat ofSeff.

***

Seff

Corbin? Cornelius? Cassian? Whycan’t I remember his name?

The man is gorgeous, with a too-large nose that fits his face kinda perfectly, a genuine smile and floppy brown hair that keeps falling in his eyes, making him flick it out with a toss of his head in a way that is catching the light just perfectly.

And he’s stacked. Like, seriously, I’d seen plenty of evidence in his photos on Hook’d. Not to mention the things he’d sent in our DM’s before we met up for coffee here at Sugar Melons.

But despite the more than willing vibes this guy is throwing my way, and the way that he keeps finding more and more inventive ways to touch me, I’m just not feeling it.

For the Gods sake, I can’t even remember his name. And now I’ve over-thought it so hard I can barely remember his username and I can’t stop obsessing over what his name is.Is it Chris?

Fuck, he’s looking at me again. I’m being weird, I know it. I’ve missed whatever it is he’s said, and there is a definite look of expectation on his face. Maybe if I can find a way to look at my phone, I can see what his name is and stop thinking about it so I can get my shit into gear.

Whatshisname’s face slowly changes, his brows puckering in a frown. “You’re not into this are you?” His lips purse as he chews on the inside of his cheek.

Blowing out a harsh breath I lean back hard in the way too-small wooden chair. It creaks perilously as I test its structural integrity under my weight, but I ignore it, instead lifting my navy cap to jam my hand through my hair.

I settle the cap back on my head and lean forward, picking up my iced coffee to swirl in my hands to keep them busy, to keep them from floundering anymore. My leg bounces under the table, making the drinks—and the table next to us—jump.

“I’m sorry…” There is a very obvious pause when I let the words just hang there. It’s my last ditch effort to shock my brain into remembering. Obviously, it doesn’t work. I can see the flicker of hurt in his eyes at my rejection. “It’s really not you. I just… I’m not myself lately. I’m sorry.”

“Right. Yes.” There is a loud screech of wood scraping against wood as he jerks his chair back sharply. His lips twist as he stands, patting himself down before stepping back from the seat. “Well I think we’re done here then, don’t you agree?”

As he talks, his words creep up in pitch, the napkins on the table fluttering with his emotions, drawing the attention of those around us. I may not remember his name, but I do remember the fae has a pretty unique gift of being able to read a beings aura to a highly complex level. And that’s on top of the usual fae-tuition. He would be fully aware of my preoccupation. How brutal.

I can feel the heat of my blush burning my cheeks. Nodding, I hold eye contact—even while he blinks back tears that make me feel like a giant asshole. Man, even Wolf feels bad for him and Wolf has had less than zero interest in this guy since I sat down.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” We have the full attention of everyone in the coffee shop now. Gods, even the humans can hear us. How embarrassing.

He flips his hair one last time, with a deep breath in through his nose, his knuckles white where he has a death grip on the back of his chair. The heel of his shoe squeaks as he turns, but he manages to whip back around just in time to catch my wince at the sound.

His eyes are ice as he looks me up and down one last time, leaning forward ever so slightly over me, which is impressive considering sitting down I’m as tall as he is standing.

“And my name is Alex.”

Different heat rushes over me like waves with every ground out syllable that spits from his lips like a curse as white hot embarrassment makes my cheeks burn with shame. With one final flourish, he spins and leaves, stalking his waythrough the cafe, that disarmingly handsome nose high in the air.

It then takes a beat or two for everyone to quit their gawking and I wait patiently for them to go back about their business, like my skin isn’t absolutely on fire. When the conversations around me pick back up, it’s almost cinematic in its timing. All it is missing is the record player resuming sound from the movies.

I rub a hand over my face, trying to massage some of the blood out of my cheeks. Gods, out of all the dates so far, this one is definitely one for the record books. I don’t even know why I’m putting myself through this.

It’d been a mistake to tell Mum and my aunts at family brunch that I’ve been dating. And my friends at the bonfire later that night. No idea why I thought opening my big mouth about it would be a good thing.

They are all so excited for me.

I haven’t been out to the Woods in a week. Which, since we got back from the cottage, is almost a record for me. The restlessness is digging in deep, though. It’s growing. Evolving. I can’t blame it all on everything that happened in the Woods.

It feels like something is missing. From my life, from my existence. Even Wolf is restless, wanting to escape into the Woods to hunt for ghosts.Or mysterious men who fulfill your every unspeakable desire and then disappear into the ether without a fucking trace.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I remind myself that we’re not doing that. I have enough going on without pining over him. There is nothing but misery on that path, which is not my bag at all.

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