Page 38 of Consume Me
He leads me a few more blocks, and I realize he’s steering with intent. When we round the corner, my eyes widen. “No way.”
A warm glow spills out onto the street from tall windows framed in ivy. Inside, crystal chandeliers glitter over tables draped in white linen. Elysian. The most coveted reservations in the city.
I gape. “How the hell did you even?—”
“Scoped it out earlier,” he says, infuriatingly casual. “Figured you deserved more than pub food.”
“You’re not even from here. How did you know the best place to eat?”
His lips twitch. “I’d like to think my centuries of recon training have amounted to something useful.”
I let him hold the door for me, not caring one bit if he’s staring at my ass again. I’m too busy staring at the inside of Elysian as the hostess leads us to our reserved table. It’s intimate, candlelight flickering between us, soft music threading through the air. I tell myself it’s the ambience making me warm, not the way his gaze lingers from across the table.
A waiter appears with wine glasses full of water and menus. Everything looks delicious, so it takes me way too long to pick something. Eventually, we order, and the waiter leaves us alone.
Noctan leans forward, forearms braced on the table. “Tell me about you.”
I blink. “What, like… my favorite color? How I take my coffee? Or how many people I’ve killed for the daggers?”
“Let’s start with the first two categories,” he says with a slight smirk. “The things that make you… you.”
The heat in his eyes makes me squirm. I fiddle with the edge of the tablecloth, stalling. “There’s not much to tell. I’m the youngest of two. My mom was a nymph. My dad was dark fae. I grew up in the Crossroads.”
He raises a brow. “That apartment fit a family of four?”
“No. I’ve only been living above Spells for about a year and a half. Ever since the daggers…” I trail off, shrugging. “Natalia had already been training me for a couple of years, and I knew she wasn’t using the place. It’s not home, though. Just… where I crash.”
His brows draw together. “Where’s home?”
That question cuts sharper than I expected. I trace the rim of my water glass with a fingertip. “Doesn’t matter. The daggers don’t belong there. So, until we’re parted, neither do I.”
“You don’t want the blades to know you in that way.”
I look up, surprised at how easily he gets it. Gets me. “I don’t want them to use my vulnerabilities against me.”
“I used to think love was a vulnerability too. A weakness. But I’m beginning to think I was wrong. That it actually makes me stronger.”
“You destroyed that dagger like it was nothing. What could you possibly need more strength for?”
“The self-control necessary to keep from touching you through that delicious shirt, for one thing.”
The compliment is so unexpected that I’m instantly lost in images of him doing just that. My face heats, butnot from embarrassment. No, I’m flushed from wanting him.
Here.
In the middle of Elysian.
Over appetizers, no less.
“That’s second-date behavior,” I tease, picking up my water glass and sipping just so I’ll have something to do with my hands.
“Noted.” He’s way too serious and intense, like he’s taken my word as a bargain.
I shudder, remembering the way it felt when he touched me last night. With no shirt between his hands and my skin.
He watches me across the table like he’s thinking of it too.
“I once had my nipples pierced.”
