Page 51 of A Fae in Finance
I tilted my head to look up at him, at the long line of his jaw and the golden stubble that coated it.
Milo shrugged. I felt his arm shift against my back. “Why he screams.”
“Are you saying a faerie wouldn’t ask that?” I wasn’t sure what to do with my own arm, and settled for holding it behind my back.
When Milo looked at me, his blue eyes were twinkling. “Definitely not at first.”
I pretended to frown. “Fine, I’ll bite,” I said, in the best bored voice I could muster.
“Please do,” Milo interjected, smirking at me.
“What would a faerie ask first?” I continued, steamrolling over him.
“Why he screamsin the courtyard,” Milo said, and grinned at me.
I laughed. “I didn’t know faeries had a sense of humor,” I said.
“Everyone has a sense of humor,” he said, looking confused.
We turned down another corridor, but this time he didn’t say anything. I looked at the names on the doors as we passed, the tiny wisps that floated near the ceiling, providing shifting flickering light.
When he stopped in front of a door with the nameMiloon it, I wasn’t entirely surprised.
“I stay here,” he said. “So you can find me, if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate it.” I wiggled out from under his arm and put my back to the wall next to his door, trying to give myself a bit of breathing room. He half turned, so that he faced me fully. His eyes were blue like lightning, mesmerizing, and I couldn’t look away. He took a step toward me, one hand coming up to rest on my shoulder. His thumb brushed my collarbone where the dress left my skin bare. It was too heavy, a bruising weight. I could hear my own harsh, shallow breaths. He leaned down so that our noses were almost touching.
Was this faerie about to kiss me?
“Miri,” he said, “I’d like to be kind to you. You deserve kindness.”
I flushed. There was something intimate and painful about hearing those words from someone who couldn’t lie.
“Milo—” I started, as the sound of pounding footsteps came down the corridor.
To my utter shock, Sahir flung himself around the corner and careened toward us, wearing a gray suit and panting. “Miriam,” he called, and threw himself at me, tackling me to the ground.
We fell in a tangle of limbs, his arms coming up to cradle my skull. I landed under him, my hands against his chest as he pressed me to the wooden floor.
“Ow,” I said.
“I sensed you were in danger,” he said, curling into a protective shell around me. “I came to save you.” He scooped me so that I was trapped in the place where the wall met the floor, pressed down by his body.
We stared at each other, nose to nose. His breath smelled of cinnamon, hot against my lips.
“What on earth isthisdoing against a potential threat?” I shoved my hands into his shoulders, and he shot to his feet, remembering himself. I stayed sprawled on the floor, dress around my knees, glaring up at him. “And where were you last night when I got poisoned?”
“Poisoned?” Sahir repeated.
Milo held a hand out to me. I reached for it, and Sahir slapped it away. “He’s the danger!” he exclaimed, animated.
“Milo?” I said. “Milo’s just been showing me around.”
Milo and Sahir stared at each other for a second. Milo blanched, the color leaving his ruddy cheeks in a rush. “I should really be”—he glanced around for inspiration—“going to sleep,” he said, jerking his thumb at his bedroom door. Looking mildly ashamed for abandoning me, he slunk inside.
Sahir whirled on me, wild brown eyes and wilder black curls haloing his head. “What did he tell you?” he growled, pulling me upright by the upper arms. His long fingers curled into my biceps, pressed the meat of my arm sharply against his palms.
“Ow, Sahir, I don’t like it when you grab me like that,” I said.
