“I’ll see what I can do about his eyes and that overbite,” I mutter. “Try not to fret, lass. I’m sure he’ll love it here.”
Her shoulders droop a little, and I press a kiss to her cheek.
“Thank you,” she whispers, turning her face at the last second so I catch her lips instead.
Fuck. I’m kissing Kyrith. It barely lasts a second, not nearly enough time for me to appreciate the softness of her, but my heart tries to beat out of my chest, anyway.
“Go find Leo,” Dakari advises her. “The rest of us will cope, but he’s pushing himself too hard.”
With a grateful little nod, Kyrith turns to me. “Are we still on for our date tonight?”
My tongue is still tied from the kiss, but I manage a weak, “Uh-huh.”
Our date. Where I might get to kiss her again.
I turn my gaze to the unfortunate feline as she ghosts away. “Hey, wee yin. Fancy a bath?”
Thirty
Kyrith
It doesn’t take much searching to find Leo. He’s in his usual chair in the Astrology Room, but agitation cloaks him. His foot jiggles where it rests on his opposite knee, and he flicks back and forth between two pages like he’s unable to take in the words.
Instinct says that speaking won’t help. I float closer to him anyway, drawn by some invisible tether until I’m by his side. Tugging on my sleeve, I debate my next move for half a second, but I’m spared from deciding because he lifts a single hand and points to the cushion on the floor by his feet.
Something akin to relief flitters between my ribs, stealing the tension. The last sparks of anxiety fizzle out entirely when my knees hit the soft fabric and his hand falls into my hair.
Leo stills. His foot ceases its incessant bouncing, and the sound of the pages turning above slows, becoming more purposeful.
I’m not the only one who feels this ease.
Summoning my work onto the rug in front of me, Iresume the tedious process of comparing the second runeform to the star charts. I’ve already matched the first, and my work floats up to Leo, whose harsh inbreath is remarkably satisfying. He’ll double-check my workings, and I let him, content to work as his fingers absently pet my hair.
The frustrated miasma drains from the room as paper rustles and progress is slowly, silently, made.
An hour passes, then two. Time blurs a little, until the weight of something piercing and amused drags me from my focused state.
His eyes, I realise, daring a glance up. He’s staring at me, and the sheer intensity of it is like a caress.
“Yes?” I venture, only to flush as he holds up a neatly folded collection of papers. “Oh.”
That damned contract. Butterflies erupt, clawing at my insides, even as my cheeks heat.
“I can’t sign this.”
The warmth cools. Something in my chest shrinks, suffocating the butterflies, and my head drops. I struggle to adopt an expression of polite acceptance, but Leo’s hand in my hair turns controlling, forcing me to meet his icy gaze.
“Let me finish. I can’t sign it…yet.”
That doesn’t make me feel much better. Before he even opens his mouth, I know what he’s going to say.
“It isn’t fair on you.”
“Your curse takes up a lot of your time,” I acknowledge. “And you won’t let yourself love me. But we can still burn off some of this tension. It doesn’t need to be romantic.”
He gives me a slow, solemn shake of his head. “I’m not strong enough to leave it at that. You’re too fecking tempting.”
I scoff, but he shakes his head.
