Page 182 of Flirting with Darkness

He canted his head and shrugged. “Maybe House has no choice about the memories.”

I blinked at him. No joke. Of course not. Not for Faolán the gentleman who’d refused to fuck me when I’d offered myself entirely. “What—uh—huh?”

“Do you choose what you dream of? What old memories your sleep self dredges up? Maybe House is the same and we’re just carried along by accident.”

I frowned at him, at my plate, then speared a floret of broccoli. As I chewed, I examined the fireplace, the vine decoration weaving around it with thorns digging into the pillars that held up the mantlepiece. “Granny said she’s stuck here as punishment. It could be House is punishing her and we’re just caught up in it.”

Faolán watched me, a crease between his brows as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. His beard had grown back over the course of the day, but it was neat as though freshly trimmed. I liked it best at this length—it emphasised his jaw and softened the hardness of his face. It suited him, both his appearance and personality.

Neither of which I was supposed to be focusing on. Gods damn it. I tore my gaze from him and pushed my plate away. Maybe I should sleep on the settee tonight. Even in that huge bed, I didn’t trust myself not to seek him out in the dark.

“Hmm.” At last he nodded and discarded his napkin on the table before leaning closer. It was only a small table—barely big enough to hold our two dinner plates, cutlery and glasses—and he had to sit with his legs stretched out to the side, since they wouldn’t fit under it. I refused to look at those long legs, thick with muscle, on the periphery of my vision.

But Wild Hunt take me, it was tempting.

As were his lips, close enough that I could lean forward, take his cheeks in my hands and kiss him.

I gripped my napkin.

Faolán canted his head, mouth skewed to one side in thought. “Punish her for what, though?”

The atmosphere shifted, pressed on my ears. He straightened, attention darting to one side.

The air rippled. A shadowy door appeared.

“Is it Bastian?” I stood, waiting for him to step through. Maybe he had news of Ariadne. We hadn’t heard anything since his visit almost two weeks ago. Was she really safe? Was she—?

“Rose!”

Someone came through the shadow door, but it wasn’t Bastian.

White hair, tawny skin, large, dark eyes, then a pair of arms were fastened around my waist, and all I could do was blink.

My knees, my outward breath, my chin—they all shook, because it was her. At least itlookedlike her, smelled like her, felt like her. “Ari?” I reminded my arms to work, closing around her petite form. She was solid. Real. “Itisyou.”

I bent over her, eyes stinging as I buried my face in her hair.

For all my determination to battle through all of Elfhame, for all my fight and optimism, for all that I’d risked to get here, some part of me had feared I’d never get to do this. And that was the part that broke as I squeezed her.

“Of course it’s me.” A chuckle laced her words, but the way she sniffed gave away that she was crying too. “Good gods, woman, where the hells have you been? Itoldyou not to come after me.” She swatted my back. “You could’ve got yourself killed.”

“Where have I…?What?” I pulled back far enough to give her a frown. “You’re the one who’s been in Elfhame, doing gods know…”

Then I looked up and sawhim.

All beautiful and tall, though dwarfed by Faolán—I suspected most fae were dwarfed by Faolán—with that dark, magpie-sheened hair and black eyes that stayed on Ari.

The fae bastard who’d taken her. He stood to one side as though waiting for his property to be returned.

Teeth gritted, I kept one arm around Ariadne, holding her close, and reached for…

Except I had no blade on me. The iron knife was hidden at the bottom of my bag, and I didn’t wear my dagger around the house.

I had to settle for shooting daggers at him with a glare instead. But the moment I could get to that iron knife…

Jaw aching, I forced my attention to Ari and a small, tight smile to my face.

She smacked her lips as if tasting something, a frown threading between her eyebrows.

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