Page 56 of Yearning For Her

Before, her lust would’ve presented a welcome opportunity for what mortals might’ve called an afternoon delight, though he’d preferred the term afternoon snack. But he had no interest in that, no interest in her. All he could muster was mild irritation.

The Kian of a few weeks ago wouldn’t have recognized his present self.

He walked slowly around the shop, lingering near each arrangement, studying petals and colors, drawing in scents. All so pretty, so vibrant. Like his Willow. But which would she appreciate most?

There were roses of many shades on display, both alone and mixed with other flowers. What was it his research had said? Each color represented something different. The red ones were love and passion, but what of the rest? If he chose the wrong color—one that signified friendship or condolences, perhaps—it could ruin everything.

Kian glanced around again. There were more varieties of flowers here than he could name. Did each type have its own meaning, and did those meanings vary by color?

He stopped at a woven basket filled with violets, folding his arms across his chest and lifting a hand to stroke his chin. Their fragrance reminded him of Willow, and their color would complement her hair perfectly. But would they send the right message? Would they properly convey his feelings?

“How can anyone choose correctly?” he muttered.

“Did you need some help?” the shopkeeper asked, her voice a little huskier than before.

Help. The very notion of asking a human for aid, of being in a situation where he needed the help of one of the creatures he fed upon, was insulting.

Willow is human too.

A twinge of guilt struck him. She wasn’t a creature, wasn’t his prey. She was his mate.

And if Kian was going to give her a gift, it would be a gift he chose.

“Yes, actually,” he said, walking to the counter.

The florist’s eyes roamed over him as he approached, and her fingers curled on the countertop.

Kian planted a hand on the edge of the counter and leaned toward her. “I need to purchase flowers for my mate.”

The florist’s brow furrowed. “Your…mate?”

Humans don’t fucking use that word that way, Kian. They barely use it at all in this country.

“Yes. My soulmate.” He glanced over his shoulder, toward the entrance, and lowered his voice. “And as she’s very special to me, I’m going to need only your finest flowers.”

The gleam in the woman’s eyes grew wistful, but she didn’t let her disappointment into her voice when she spoke. “Well, you’re in luck. Everything we sell is the best.”

He smiled. “Good.”

“So, what is it you’d like? We can do custom arrangements if nothing is quite right.”

“Ah, there’s my problem. I’m not sure what she likes.”

“Oh. Well, uh… Roses are the traditional choice for romance, and we can—”

“Yes, we’ll do roses. But I also want everything else.”

“I-I don’t think understand.”

Kian straightened and looked around the shop, waving vaguely. “All of it. One of every arrangement. Just the way you have them is fine.”

Her eyes widened. “Sir, that’s…”

“What I want.” He leaned an elbow on the counter and nodded toward the cash register. “Go ahead. I’ll settle the bill now, to demonstrate my sincerity.”

As though in a daze, she worked the register, occasionally glancing up at him as she tallied items. After what seemed an eternity, she produced a total.

Kian withdrew his wallet from his pocket and counted out the cash in hundreds, sliding the stack to her. “This should cover it.”

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