Page 34 of The Royal Street Witch
“I want it,” I whisper, and he pulls my chin so he can kiss me from behind, vicious and consuming, his fingers getting me ready, his dick hard against my ass, and then he plunges into me and fucks me on the terrace as we both watch the sun slowly and gloriously rise.
He wants breakfast, though he hardly eats. He tells me he wants to sit at a restaurant and smell the bacon sizzling, the sweet aroma of warm maple syrup. He wants to experience the buzz of a busy morning, the clacking of utensils, the pouring of coffee. So I take him to The Ruby Slipper on Magazine Street, where we are less likely to be recognized by any witches and we are safe during the day from vampires.
Still, Bastian wears his hat and glasses, and I think a disguising spell might be in order, but no. No this is ending soon enough. And it stings, it does, because he’s grabbed my hand just now as we follow the hostess to be seated and I don’t pull away. In fact, I hold on tighter and then he looks back and he winks at me.
“Steve will be right with y’all. Can I get some coffee started?” she says, clasping her hands.
“Yes, please,” he says so politely I could pinch his cheek. My head tilts, eager to see through his eyes, wanting the details of his first breakfast in a restaurant in however many years. “Is it what you expected?”
“I think I’m taking it in.” His eyes float around the busy dining room, where children are laughing, grandparents are sipping coffee, their day just beginning. “You would be amazed at the difference sunlight makes on details. There is nothing like natural light, no filter, no LED, nothing.”
We sip our coffee, something I’ve never seen him sip, and the way his finger hooks through the coffee cup looks like a piece of art. Obsidian ring, magical fingers, what they did to me this morning… I look away.
“I can taste it.” His voice is ecstatic, a nostalgic look pulling on his face. “It’s faint, but usually it tastes like nothing.” When our eyes meet, his excitement over the faintest taste of coffee has entranced him.
“Well, you have the human ability to walk in the daylight, you will probably have some other abilities like taste, too.”
“I can’t believe it,” he says, sipping again, and there’s a flutter in my stomach. Maybe it’s from how beautiful he is in the daylight, or maybe it’s because I’ve done something that still has a deep thread of apprehension running through me. I try to focus on the good as I take a deep gulp of coffee and slide it back on the table.
“What have you wanted to do so badly, that you haven’t been able to do all these years?”
He looks to the ceiling in thought, then raises three fingers. “Three things. First, see the sunrise.” The corner of his lip pulls up, and my whole body flushes.
“Check,” I say, copying his grin.
“Breakfast.”
“Well, it’s no jazz brunch, but check.”
He nods, leaning back in his seat. “And the beach. I miss days at the beach.”
I clear my throat, the future with us separated looming in the distance. “Well, I guess you and Cassius will have to check that one off.”
He’s quiet as his eyes squint, tongue running along his bottom lip, elegant fingers tapping the table. “Yeah, guess so.”
“We’ve gotten so carried away that it actually worked, that we’ve forgotten why we did it in the first place.”
“Cassius,” he whispers and takes a deep breath. “I know, I know it’s not for me. It’s for him, but this is just…” He raises his palms up, still disbelieving it’s real, and neither can I, truthfully.
“You’re confident he’ll be accepting?”
“Oh, yeah. How can he not be? He hasn’t seen the sun for much longer than I have. He needs this boost, to shake him up. He needs change.”
But I’m not so sure. A feeling in my gut tells me that Cassius will be slow to warm to the idea, but I’m hopeful I’m wrong.
“He’ll be willing to just leave? How will Nicola react?”
Bastian lifts the hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, eyes scanning the restaurant. “She’ll be happy to see him go. All she wants is for him to get out of this self-loathing stage. She will throw us a going away party.C’est la vie.” He smiles at the thought but then grows serious and looks at me.
“You’ve made leaving…complicated.”
Flashes of his body against mine invade my thoughts. Complicated indeed, yet I’m great at avoiding conversations I’m not emotionally ready to have.
“What’s complicated? I have enough vials of potion to last a year between the two of you. And then if you need more, you’ll just have to come back so I can make you cry again.”
He scoffs, but Steve the waiter brings our eggs cochon, shrimp and grits, and Bastian doesn’t take his eyes off me. Once Steve leaves, he grabs my hand from across the table. “It’s so easy, huh? To forget? To move on?”
My hand feels trapped in his, so I pull it away and say what I think I should say. “We just fucked. It’s not like we’re going to play house. Now see if you can taste your grits.”
