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Melaina stepped forward, playing teasingly with the bottom of her braid. “You are tall,” she said to the auburn-haired guard captain. He blushed to the roots, grinned like an idiot.
“I have many outstanding qualities.”
Melaina giggled, wrapped herself around one of Jonah’s arms. “I think we should invite them!”
“You aren’t in charge,” Cassie said, her pout still in place, and a storm of magic and trouble brewing.
“You are clearly a thoughtful and dedicated leader of women,” I said. “And your hair looks awesome.”
Her eyes widened with delight. “I applied a very thorough mask last night. The trolls recommended it.”
Of course they had. “If it would be okay with you, could we talk to Mallory and Catcher? Or maybe Jeff?”
“I suppose,” she said. “But you can’t sit by Jeff.”
A woman had to have her boundaries.
* * *
Jonah and I had already sat on the low pillows when the Ombuddies emerged from the back room, arms laden with décor: flowers, hanging lamps, extra pillows. They placed them as directed by the nymphs—who promptly adjusted them because two sorcerers and a shifter apparently were unable to arrange throw pillows according to the nymphs’ exacting specifications.
“Save me,” Mallory murmured, as she placed an orchid on the table the nymphs had designated for us. She wore an orange tunic over jeans tonight, her blue hair divided into two braids that had been twisted into knots on the back of her head.
Catcher joined us, and I was shocked to see that he’d traded his usual sarcastic T-shirt for a button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled nearly to his elbows.
“You look very handsome,” I said, as he arranged his long legs with obvious discomfort.
“I look like a banker.”
I wasn’t sure a banker would combine a button-down, jeans, and angry-looking black boots, but I thought it wise not to mention that.
“For all your faults, I’m glad to see you up and about. Heard you took a good fall.”
“It wasn’t my best night, but I’m okay now.”
When she’d finished with the flowers, Mallory put her hands on my arms. “You sure?”
I nodded. “Concussion, bullet through the shoulder. A little dizzy and headachy earlier, but I’m fine other than that.”
“And to think you were once a total English lit dork. Ethan must have had a fit.”
“He was worried,” I agreed. “Bad part about dating the vampire you trained to be a warrior? You worry every time you send her into battle.”
“It’s a job hazard,” Catcher acknowledged.
“Well,” Mallory said, sitting down beside us, “she did single-handedly rescue Darius West from the clutches of an evildoer.”
“It wasn’t exactly like that, but close enough.”
“What happens next with Darius?” Catcher asked.
“We’re still waiting for that part.”
Jeff came out bearing a glazed terra-cotta tagine that smelled absolutely heavenly. He normally paired a button-down with khakis, and he’d kept the same look today.
“That smells amazing,” I told Cassie, whose eyes had gone large and glassy at the sight of Jeff. Nymphs absolutely adored the lanky shifter. I liked Jeff, but their interest in him went far beyond “like” and was somewhere closer to “bewitched.”
Cassie pointed Jeff to a chevron cushion across the table, and he smiled at me and shrugged.
“I think they’re afraid I’ll hit on you,” I whispered to Jeff when Cassie had moved away. “Do they know about Fallon?”
“They haven’t asked, and I haven’t told. Besides, they all have boyfriends.” That had actually been the topic of discussion the first time I’d met the nymphs. Cassie and Melaina had been fighting over a boy who, based on the argument, hadn’t seemed worthy of either of them.
“Wise man,” Catcher said.
Melaina moved back to the table, the fabric shushing around her as she moved. “Please enjoy your meal,” she said, placing a giant ceramic platter in the middle of the table. It held mounds of dark meat—lamb, I guessed—inside a halo of couscous. “But eat quickly. The rest of the party will be here soon.”
She walked away again.
“I guess this is the staff table?” I asked.
“They like to feed people,” Catcher said. “That doesn’t mean they don’t divide them into castes.”
With the mound of food in the middle of the table, all eyes turned to me.
“Oh, come on,” I said.
“We’ve all eaten with you before,” Catcher said. “And we prefer to keep our fingers.”
“How do I begin?” I asked, sheepish at the question, but there was no silverware to be found, and I’d never eaten Moroccan food before, more’s the pity.
“Use the khobz,” Catcher said, pointing to round loaves of flatbread that looked something like Indian naan. “It’s Moroccan bread. Pull off a small piece, use it to pick up the meat and couscous. And try to keep your fingers out of our food.”
I did as directed, tore off a piece of bread, picked up meat and couscous, and tasted.
It was absolutely delicious. Spicy and savory chunks of lamb, with hints of clove and cinnamon and the sweetness of raisins and dates.
“I assume you came by for a reason,” Catcher said, scooping up his dinner.
“A couple, actually.” I wiped my hands on my napkin, picked up the box I’d tucked beside me, and smiled at Jeff. “We were at SpringCon, and I saw this and thought you had to have it.”
I passed it over, watched the smile blossom and brighten on his face. “Dude,” he said, grinning over at me with such puppy adoration I thought my heart would melt right onto the floor. “You got me a Roland.”
“Yeah, I saw it and I just thought—”
Before I could finish the sentence he leaped to his feet and had rounded the table and wrapped his arms around my shoulders from behind.
“That is so freaking thoughtful!”
I felt the heat rise in my cheeks and must have been blushing furiously. “You’re very welcome,” I said, patting his arms. “Don’t do anything Fallon would kill me for.”
“And sit your ass down before Melaina comes back over here and gives you the stink eye,” Catcher barked. “I’m not doing this again if she cancels it in tears.”
