Page 29 of The Incubus's Angel
And what a pretty laugh she has. It’s breezy. I’ve never met anyone who laughs as freely as Maisie Carmichael. One would almost think she had no worries, but I’ve seen the tiny hints of vulnerability underneath her bubbly exterior. I hope that one day she trusts me enough to show me all of her. I’ll do anything to deserve her trust.
“Hello, Ren. It looks like you’re deep in thought. Should we make conversation or are we walking together in silence fromhere?” I almost stumble back at the sound of Beck’s voice to my right.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. Hi, Beck.” That male really does have the quietest feet in all of Starry Hill. But maybe I should pay more attention to my surroundings too. Not like they’re comparable to the visions of Maisie running through my mind.
Beck tilts his head to the side, the dragon scales on his neck glimmering in the late-afternoon light. “How? I’m right here. And I’m pretty tall. And I’ve heard I’m quite noticeable with my bright hair and such.”
My lips tip up in a smile and I squeeze his shoulder in what I hope is a comforting manner. That’s what Maisie always seems to do when she senses I need reassurance. “You’re all of those things. I was just… thinking of something else.”
We fall into step on the worn path, the setting sun casting long shadows in the soft light. Above us, the sky transforms into muted tones of gold and orange, blanketing Starry Hill with a dreamy quality that’s begging to be photographed.
I wish Maisie was here. I can just picture how beautiful she’d look in this light, maybe lying down between daisies with me standing above her, then next to her, then on her.
No, no, no, Ren. This is dangerous territory. Tone it down before you smell like horny pheromones that the other guys will totally pick up on. You know you don’t want to answer any of the questions they’ll most likely have.
After a while, Beck asks, “What can you think of so much that makes you unable to see someone right in front of you?”
I debate how much to tell him, and finally settle on a partial truth. “It’s more of a someone, than a something.”
Beck shakes his head. “I still don’t get it, but I forgive you.”
“Thanks.”
“What are you carrying?”
“Tangerines.”
“Why?”
“I thought it would be nice to take something to share.”
Beck stops walking. “Were we supposed to take stuff?”
I stop, too, and turn to look at him. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay.”
We settle back into silence as we cross the final hill and walk down to Kraken Cove. The moment we hit the sand, Beck removes his shoes, but I continue with my sneakers, not quite ready for that step yet.
We find a few of the guys waiting around mismatched camping chairs and a pile of wood at their center.
Bodin is the first to greet us. “Beck! Ren! Welcome. It’s so nice to see you. Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for the invite.” I shake his outstretched hand and he pulls me in for one of his one-armed hugs.
Beck shakes Bodin’s hand next. “Yes, thank you. Ren brought tangerines.”
“I did. Here.” I hand Bodin the bag, then look around at the eclectic group gathered.
Viggo holds up a cooler box. “I brought oysters. Thought a few of us could do with some. Everyone knows oysters are good for stamina.”
“And they’re an aphrodisiac. If anyone is so lucky to find a partner to benefit from that,” Aurelius adds awkwardly, looking anywhere but at Bodin. I remember hearing at one point thatAurelius tried to flirt with Tilly before news got out that she and Bodin had something going on. Aurelius’s plans to woo her apparently ended up with him getting a dressing down from Tilly. He’s been much more subdued since then and careful with his advances from what Bodin told me.
A deep furrow forms between Beck’s brows and his mouth tilts down as he studies everything we brought. “Should I go back to my mill to get my game of checkers? Or chess perhaps?”
Bodin claps Beck on the shoulder. “That’s okay, but thanks for the offer. It’ll be dark soon so it’ll be hard to see the squares.
“Let me get started on the fire before we completely lose the light,” Aurelius offers, his large white wings flicking back and forth excitedly. “Fires are so pretty,” the mothman says almost trancelike as he saunters toward the unlit wood.
