Page 33 of How to Seduce a Slender

He crouched before her, glaring despite knowing she couldn’t see it. “The point here is that your apron is gone.”

“Well, I mean, is that even necessary anymore?” She cocked a brow.

“As it was a huge clue and possibly a way of narrowing down suspects, yes…yes it was.” He folded his arms over his knees. She pursed her lips, mulling over saying something. It was written all over her face. The way she bore holes into the fabric with her eyes, the knit of her brows, and the way she sucked in her cheeks. He’d seen her when she was happiest, saddest, focused, and now worried. “Melody, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“I have a theory, but I don’t think you’ll like it.” She finally glanced his way. Slowly she rose to her feet, pacing from him for a change. Her fingers turned into knots, worrying them incessantly. Melody would turn to face him then pivot away.

“And what theory is that?” he asked, hoping to pry her from her thoughts. Whatever she was considering, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like that it plagued her.

“That when you touch me, I remember stuff!” she blurted out before immediately clamping her lips shut.

Smith’s face, if it had ever had a feature or expression, went blank. He stumbled back a step as if she’d slapped him.And he knew from experience when Melody Deathless slapped someone, it fucking hurt.It took him an eternity to return to the functioning mechanics of his body. At first, he corrected his posture, then folded his hands behind his back. And finally, he cleared his throat. “Well, that is…a theory.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“I have no aversion to your theory.” He lied through his static.

Melody cocked out a hip, clearly not buying it. “Smith, we’ve been doing this tango for what? Five days now? Maybe? I know when your little fuzzy screen does that, it means you’re uncomfortable. I told you, you wouldn’t like it.”

“I never said I didn’t like it.” No, he hated it. “I merely am curious how you came to this solution?”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a long moment before the words filled the air. “Gut instinct.”

“Ah!” Smith nodded, staring down at the hardwood beneath his feet.Preposterous. Inconceivable. There was no logical way that his touch…that’s not how… But what if?He had to admit, his electromagnetic powers were known to disturb magic. He ruined many enchantments Agatha created before they even realized it. What if his touch, his frequency, was the perfect thing to disrupt a memory curse? Could his touch be curing her amnesia?

“Smith?”

He perked up. “Hmm?”

“I was just thinking, you know, eventually, I’m going to feel better. Like you wait on me hand and foot, and not having to work at the diner’s probably healthy for me. And I’m feeling better! Honest! Who knows, in a few days, maybe the spark will be back in my step, and you can chase me for real, huh?” She babbled, her hands flying every which way as she paced toward him, then back away from him again. Smith watched, astounded, as she carried on. “And with you eating my dreams, that’s the first time I’ve had a decent night’s sleep. Outside of when I fell asleep around Dahlia, of course, but I’m not sure what caused that. What I am sure of is that I feel so refreshed, and my body doesn’t ache and this place feels safe to me. I’m bound to be better in no time.”

“Melody,” he interrupted with a lightly teasing tone. She froze as he closed the distance between them. Her hands were worried in front of her again. He purposely took them in his, easing her fingers away from each other. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…” she wheezed like a balloon choked of all its helium. “What happens when I’m better?”

“What do you mean?” He led her away from the wall toward the couch. She indeed felt better, the life was in her cheeks and there was a sparkle in her eye. He imagined she would feel right back to her old self in no time, if not better.

She sat down in unison with him before letting out a heavy sigh. “When this is done, what happens when we know who did it and I’m better?”

Oh…Right. Smith cleared his throat swiftly, “Ah, indeed. Well, I mean, of course there are a few things to consider, and I doubt this case will be solved swiftly, even if you do feel better. There are quite a few conditions that should be met before I would feel comfortable returning you back to the city.”

The tense silence that ran between them left him reeling. She looked right at him like she truly could see through him. When Melody broke the silence, she ran him through with a single question. “You don’t want me to leave, do you?”

“What a question, Ms. Deathless,” he rasped. Unable to drop her hands or even peel himself away, despite the un-ending itch to rip out of the office.The truth…just tell her the truth.And so, the truth fell out of him. “I hate flapjacks, you need to know that I despise them. They’re soggy, and tasteless without more butter and syrup than should be legal. And yet I eat them four times a week, minimum, just to see you. Because I seek you out in every way imaginable. I am…a man possessed, Ms. Deathless. And what happens when you are well enough to leave? Well, I would likely find a reason to delay. Stall. To persuade you to stay. I am quite the wordsmith and can be convincing when it benefits me. And I would stop at nothing to convince you to stay.”

Melody’s emeralds bore through him like spears through his chest. Her breathing was steady as she neither flinched, nor inched toward him. He let her process his entire confession. Ignoring the sudden urge to disappear into a cloud of static, knowing she couldn’t resummon him unless she bade Sebastian or Dahlia do it, he couldin theoryjust leave her to think it over. But the warmth from her palms delicately placed in his was enough to keep him cemented to the couch.

“You call me ‘sweet girl’,” she murmured, her gaze finally dropping to where their hands were joined. “You offer me things without hesitation. You’re kind. You never make me feel stupid—”

Smith couldn’t help the flash of anger as he tightened his grip around her hands. “Who makes you feel stupid!”

Melody smirked, returning her attention to his face. “That’s not the point.”

“It’s the point that matters to me.” His chest fluttered at the mischievous, pleased expression painted onto her features.

“You are quite protective of me,” she added, quirking her brow in challenge. Smith said nothing. She let out a snort, “And possessive.”

“I won’t…disagree.” What could he even say? She’d busted him. Smith’s body straightened like a lamp post as she slid closer to him, her knees brushing against his. Leaning toward him, she inspected his face with a worried brow.

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