Page 17 of His Infernal Purr
I take her hand, carefully moderating my grip to avoid crushing her bones. “Morax.”
“Just Morax? Like Madonna or Cher?” She seems more amused than intimidated, which is irritating.
“My full name is difficult for people to pronounce correctly,” I reply smoothly.
“I bet.” Her eyes assess me with uncomfortable perceptiveness. “So you and Finn, huh? That was… fast.”
There’s something in her tone I don’t care for—a hint of judgment or perhaps concern. I draw myself up slightly, allowing just a touch of my natural intimidation aura to manifest.
“We have a… profound connection.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure you do. Finn always did have a thing for strays with an edge.”
Before I can formulate an appropriately scathing response that won’t involve actual scorching, Finn appears at my side, a plate of grilled meats in hand.
“Sylvie! You made it!” He gives her a quick, friendly hug that makes something dark and possessive twist in my chest. “I see you’ve met Morax.”
“We were just getting acquainted,” Sylvie confirms, her smile a shade too knowing for my comfort. “Catching up on who’s who in Finn Hughes’ life these days.”
“Morax has been helping me turn the clinic around,” Finn explains with obvious pride. “He’s got an amazing head for business.”
“Among other talents,” I add, deliberately placing my hand on the small of Finn’s back in a clear gesture of claim.
Sylvie’s eyes narrow slightly at the move, but her smile remains in place. “I’m glad to hear it. That clinic has been your dream for so long—you deserve to see it succeed.”
Their conversation shifts to mutual acquaintances and veterinary school memories, each reference to their shared past grating on me like sandpaper. I find myself increasingly tense, wings straining to manifest beneath my carefully chosen button-down shirt.
She touched his arm THREE TIMES in two minutes of conversation.
“Would you excuse us for a moment?” I finally interject, perhaps more abruptly than social norms dictate. “Finn promised to show me the… community garden.”
“I did?” Finn looks confused, then catches my expression. “Oh! Right, the garden. Sylvie, we’ll catch up more later?”
“Count on it,” she replies with a wink that makes me seriously consider the logistics of opening a small portal to the Pit of Despair right under her feet.
I guide Finn away from the gathering, toward a quieter area of the community park where several raised garden beds contain wilting tomato plants and overgrown herbs.
“Everything okay?” he asks once we’re alone. “You seemed a little… intense back there.”
“I don’t care for your ex-mate,” I state bluntly.
Finn blinks, then a slow smile spreads across his face. “Are you… jealous? Of Sylvie?”
“Certainly not,” I scoff, offended by the suggestion. “Dukes of Hell do not experience petty human emotions like jealousy.”
“Uh-huh.” His smile widens. “So the temperature drop around us when she hugged me was just a weather anomaly?”
I glare at him. “Your prior relationship with her was significant?”
His expression softens. He steps closer, placing a hand on my chest, right over where my heart would be if I had one in the human anatomical sense. “It was college. We dated for two years, realized we made better friends than partners, and broke up amicably. That was eight years ago.”
“She still harbors affection for you,” I observe, not entirely pacified.
“Sylvie cares about me as a friend,” Finn corrects gently. “The same way I care about her. But that’s all it is now—friendship.”
I study his face, searching for any hint of deception, but find only open honesty. It’s frustrating how terrible he is at lying—a trait I find simultaneously annoying and endearing.
“Besides,” he continues, sliding his hand up to cup my face, “in case you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty thoroughly involved with someone else these days. Someone tall, dark, and occasionally terrifying.”
