CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Calista
Astaroth was unusually quiet as he picked at his breakfast, same as when he returned to the room last night. He barely spared me a passing glance, choosing to spend his time out on the balcony staring out over the labyrinth. At first, I thought he was upset with me, that maybe he had overheard my conversation with Jessandra. Or maybe she had told him. But when I told him goodnight, he gave me a small smile and wished me sweet dreams.
I watched him through my lashes from across the table as he delicately sliced his sweet wheat, minus the euphoric berries, and thought about my conversation with Jessandra. While I was sewing my wild oats, she was living a life of celibacy. Sex was a constant in my life up until recently. I could stay here and delay the inevitable, but I would become miserable in the process.Taking a page from Jessandra’s book, I removed all the reasons for being here and really looked at Astaroth.
Posture perfect, he filled his chair with an air of majestic mystery. Or maybe it was his long, silky hair and the way it made my fingers itch to touch it to see if it was as soft as it looked. Or the way the light and shadows emphasized his strong but angelic bone structure leading down to the sharpest Cupid’s bow I’d ever seen. And when his lips curled, it was mesmerizing, but nowhere near as mesmerizing as his eyes.
Damn it. If Astaroth were on HookUp, I would. Lock. Him. Down.
Why couldn’t this be an easier situation? Have some fun with one another, go home, and enjoy my life. I could do that without all the added stress and live an awesome one. And if it was good—an image of him in the tub smirking popped into my mind—okay, it’d probably be great knowing him, we could do it again. But he didn’t just want to sleep with me.
He wants me.
For forever.
I debated if now was a good time to discuss his proposition when he forcefully speared a chunk of sweat wheat with his fork.
“If you continue to undress me with your eyes, I will be forced to oblige you.” He looked up at me and stuck the fork in his mouth, his lips tightening around the tines as he slowly pulled it out.
“I—” My thighs clenched, along with my fist around the fork, and I cleared my throat. “Will you take me to the tree?”
Astaroth set down his silverware. “I will take you anywhere you’d like.”
With exceptions. I swallowed down the ever-present resentment and stayed in the moment. “Do you have time today?”
“For you, always.” He approached my end of the table and held out his hand. I took it and stood. “Are you ready now?”
No, I absolutely was not ready to make yet another deal with my personal devil. What if it made the situation ten times worse? But what if it made it better? There was only one way to find out.
“Yes.”
He tucked my hand under his arm and led the way to the garden. I felt like a wild creature on a leash whose spirit was damn near broken by its owner. No way out, nowhere to go. Not yet. Playing by his rules could save me in the end.
“The tree is in the garden?”
Astaroth shook his head. “It is beyond. The walls of the castle extend farther on this side.”
Before we stepped under the arched entrance, Astaroth turned back. Jess stood in the middle of the hall. “Where can I find Mergle?”
“He is currently indisposed.”
By the slight tilt of her head, I assumed she heard a hint of pause in his words, too. Astaroth was not one to stumble over them.
“Tell him I would like to speak.”
He inclined his head and turned us back to the garden. I peeked over my shoulder at Jess who stared at Astaroth’s back. She gave me a knowing glance before walking away. She could read me far too well. I needed to work on my poker face for this to work against Astaroth.
“You’re nervous.” His fingers slid over my hand holding his arm.
I startled and loosened my death grip. “A little,” I said, going with a partial truth. “I never know what to expect here.”
Case in point, the string of leaches hanging on the trellis and reaching out to us. The small blooms opened and closed,reminding me of little puckering mouths. They would get no kisses from me.
As we walked, I asked Astaroth one of the many questions I wanted answered. “Why do some of the goblins call you ‘sire,’ and the others call you ‘Your Highness’?”
“Those who call me ‘Your Highness’ are my fae brethren.” He didn’t continue, only glanced down at me.
