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“And you can become a Shadow at any time?”
“Yes, but Shadows symbolize the less friendly nature of my kind. I prefer to remain corporeal as much as possible.”
“You’re beautiful.”
The words are out, surprising us both with the wistful tone of my voice.
“Thank you.”
Bash accepts my compliment graciously, running a finger along my cheek.
Unfortunately, the moment is interrupted when the limo pulls up to a restaurant.
“Damn. Should’ve instructed the driver to take the long way.”
He shoots me a crooked smile, but I’m too busy staring at the name of the restaurant.
It’s one of the most expensive and prestigious in NYC—their waiting list is like two years long!
“How…how did you get a reservation for this place?!”
“Another Boggart trick.”
“You threatened the owner with his worst nightmare unless he gave us a table?”
“Yep. I told him I would send you over to help with the marketing.”
I mock gasp. “Are you saying I’m someone’s nightmare?”
“Absolutely, you are. Don’t worry, deoring, you’re my dream come true.”
“Smooth.”
“Oh, just you wait.”
True to his word, the second we enter the restaurant, we’re swept away by a gaggle of waiters to a secluded table bathed in candlelight.
A private quartet plays softly in the corner, the classical notes soothing my frazzled nerves.
On the table, another giant bouquet sits—a spray of wildflowers—along with a bottle of wine.
Purple pasqueflower peeks out among the blooms, and I wonder if Bash knows what they mean to my people.
What they mean to me.
The maître d’ appears, holding out my seat for me before bowing to Bash.
“Monsieur Ettin, so wonderful to see you again!”
“Again?” I whisper under my breath, but Bash just winks.
“I apologize I wasn’t at the door to greet you. Allow me to pour you a glass of our best Cabernet.”
When I try the wine, I groan, closing my eyes. It’s heady and sweet—just like this evening.
“That good?”
Bash’s question jerks me back to the present, and I squirm a bit.
