Page 86 of How to Seduce a Slender

“Of course, my lady.”

And he didn’t know how else to answer it. Not as Dahlia stormed past him into the house, eyes welling with unspilled tears. Ophelia, Kayla, and Sebastian raced after her, leaving Agatha beside Smith, obviously torn between being emotional support for Smith or Melody. The werewolf made the choice for her, approaching Smith. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t function.

Not as he realized the totality of Elyth Rosemont. Melody stopped in front of him, cocking a brow. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he barked, the force behind it more wound than bite. “For endangering your life? For making you a target? For…for being a fool?”

Agatha turned mostly transparent. Melody gave him an apologetic smile as she closed the last few paces between them. She took up his hands and refused to let him snatch them back. Smith felt like, for the first time, he might be the one to collapse. Melody stroked the pad of her thumbs against the back of his hands. “For coming with me. I need the smartest guy in the room to fight for me. Who else to battle over an eldritch deal than the best lawyer in King’s Fall? Huh?”

Smith let out a pitiful huff but the longer she stood there, smiling at him, the softer he grew.A fool. All the mentoring, all the lessons, all the knowledge meant nothing when one is naïve.Smith had been but a child let loose in the world and Elyth abused his affections. It was simply just that.

And yet, he was hollow once more.

“Agatha,” he sighed, watching her return to full color. “You’re right.”

“Ha! Wait, about what?” She laughed sheepishly, glancing around.

“I am like air,” he breathed, taking Melody’s hands tighter and tugging her toward the house.

He wasn’t fiery or explosive. His rage was cold. It was calculated. It was dangerous. And he needed to funnel his energy into something productive…lest he become a windstorm and self-destruct.

Smith tugged his werewolf toward the house, and she eagerly raced to keep up beside him. This time, he caught it. Just a touch. Barely a whisper. A wispy shadowy tail wagged behind her as she walked beside him. For only a moment until she glanced at him, and her eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean, like air?”

“I am,” he exhaled heavily, glancing over his shoulder at Agatha for a better explanation.

“Well,” Agatha started, floating through their arms and popping out the other side. “You know how sometimes, when people are angry or hurt, they feel enraged? They are a rumbling volcano about to erupt?”

“Me,” Melody snorted.

“Precisely,” Smith chuckled, closing the distance between them so he could loop an arm around her waist. “But I am not.”

“Smith and I, when we’re angry, it’s cold. We’re like a hollow breeze through a cavern.” Agatha held the front door open.

“Sure! But, does that mean some people are angry like earth? Do they chomp on rocks or just rumble and grumble?”

Smith rolled his eyes, shoving Melody firmly into the space beyond the doorway before thwacking her hard on the bottom. Melody yelped. But that shadow tail was back. He watched it wag sharply back and forth as she whipped around to face him. Finger in his face, she huffed, “Watch it.”

“Or what?” he teased, nipping her fingertip playfully before moving her again. “Remember, you were the one who asked to go see the witch. Let’s go see her before Dahlia changes her mind or I come to my senses.”

Melody huffed but charged forward into the house. Moonpie meowed from the runner and refused to let Melody get past until she picked up the feline and took her to the library where all the other voices spilled from. Smith stood in the doorway with Agatha. The banshee placed a sweet hand on his shoulder and squeezed tenderly.

“For what it’s worth, Smith, I don’t think you were a fool for being in love with someone who didn’t love you back. The heart is a tricky thing to handle, regardless if it’s physically there or not. And what she did to you, how she manipulated you, these games of hers, they don’t make your past feelings any less real. Or dull the pain any less. Or make you any more of a fool.”

“Agatha,” he chuckled under a wounded breath, clamping a hand over hers and squeezing. “Your opinion of me is worth quite a lot actually. Thank you.”

She grinned, swatting him with a tea towel. “Now, don’t go and get sappy on me, Smith. You’ve got an eldritch god to strike a deal with and I’ve got a whole house to prepare.”

“Prepare?” Smith huffed, “For what?”

Agatha beamed before she pulled out a tiny notepad from her pockets. Upon the front was a mini calendar. She pointed to the date, then moved a few days down the line. “Your birthday is this Saturday, you silly goose. You think I would forget?”

“It’s not a real birthday. I was never born. I was created! And that date was never documented.”

“Don’t back talk me! If I say you’re getting a birthday, then damnit, Smith, you’re getting a birthday. Lord Rosemont has already approved my order for balloons and the decorations for the ballroom. And Lady Rosemont is making you a cake. Now go down there, and get Ms. Deathless’ wolf back, and then we can bicker about obtuse things like what you want to wear and how many roses I’m pelting you with that morning. But don’t you dare look at me with that face and tell me you’re not getting a birthday! We’re undead, not dead-dead.”

Smith roared, throwing his hands up in the air. “I! Don’t! Have! A! Face!”

But he stormed to the library, regardless, a tiny tornado of emotions brewing around him.A birthday party? In this environment?Elyth could try to strike again at any moment and they have yet to figure out how to get into her lair or what kind of strength she’s grown…this was no time for a birthday party!

---