Page 123 of Fake Fae-Ancée

"Have you read it?" he asks.

Now I can’t stop the heat from rising up to my hairline.Have I read it?Only about twenty-seven times. And that's with each of the thirteen volumes. And that means twenty-seven times thirteen times at least two incredibly steamy smut scenes. The kind that has you clutch your pearls and squeeze your legs together.

"I really can’t tell," I say, quickly turning to the calendar next to the cash register, desperately leafing through the pages even though I have nothing to note down but my own mortification. Why is he asking me? Why not looking up customer reviews somewhere online or something? And why ist it so damn hot in here all of a sudden?

His smile sinks and I am almost sorry for my harsh response. But then again, hehasa girlfriend, most likely, I think, so he is very welcome to test his flirting skills elsewhere, thank you very much.

"Have a pleasant day." I turn my service smile up another notch, willing him to leave before… No idea really, but I need this conversation to stop. It won’t lead anywhere anyway, so best to spare us both further embarrassment.

"Until next time then," Fallout-Boy says, half raising one hand and turning to leave.

It isn't until he had disappeared from the store that my cousin clears his throat again.

"Nice young man." The Incubus saunters toward the cash register, hands in his pockets, grinning at me like a content cat.

I gather all the courage I have left and meet my cousin with what I hope is a casual and nondescript expression. One that rather says"Go away and leave me alone,"rather what I am about to say.

"What do you want?"

"And the two of you were just having such a promising conversation," my cousin says with a sly grin, ignoring my question as he so often does. He leans his hip against the counter, gazing at the open door where seconds before Fallout-Boy and his purchase and charmingly crooked smile have disappeared. Then he looks back to me, smiling. Johnathan is always in a good mood. It is nerve wrecking.

"Tell me what you want, please," I grit out.

"Oh, my dear Mae, youdoknow that. I'm here on official business."

He languidly pulls hisSILVANUS-ID from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and holding it up.Jonathan Pentangeli, it reads.First class surveillance superintendent at SILVANUS, sub department B2 of P.A.S.H., New Hamburg City.

Even on a plastic card my cousin looks outrageously handsome. The curse of our kind.

Jonathan sighs. "You're running out of time, Mae. Did you really think this wouldn't show up in our stats?"

I swallow. Of course I haven’t. But I did hope that maybe they would overlook me somehow. They have done so for years. By now, I have elevated being overlooked to an art form.

But of course, our kind is connected by the threads of our magic, and SILVANUS, the official regulations board of P.A.S.H. ("Protect And Serve Humankind", that is,) is involved when one of ours steps out of line.

After all, Succubi, and Incubi, have a certainreputation.

"Your Anima is running out." Jonathan shoots me a stern look, propping his hands on the counter and leaning forward. I take a half step back.

"Do we have to discuss this here?" I hiss. "There could be customers coming in any moment."

The corners of Jonathan's mouth twitch. He makes a slight, almost throwaway motion with his right hand. The front door slams shut, the little bells above it tinkling animatedly. He jerks his hand around. I hear the metallic click of the lock.

"You are closed," he says.

A chill run down my spine.

"Mrs. Sorensen is in the back office," I press out.

"Don’t you worry, your boss is dealing with a particularly stubborn tax spreadsheet right now."

I frown, pressing my lips together. Mrs. Sorensen is absolutely in the zone whenever she does accounting — which she always does on Saturday afternoons. She wouldn’t even notice a direct meteor hit.

I am on my own.

Jonathan takes a look around, cracking another bright smile. "Looks like we'll be undisturbed for the next ten minutes."

I glare at him.

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