She flashes a double thumbs-up and a too-bright smile. “Great! Augs and I are making dinner.”
Draegan nods. “Is there… anything else you need?”
“He and Jude went food shopping last night, so I think we’re all set.”
“No, I was thinking in terms of your… I thought… pain medication? Or… bandages. Maybe extra pillows and…” He trails off awkwardly, lowering his eyes to his glass, suddenly transfixed by the amber liquid inside. When she doesn’t immediately respond, he sighs, downs the drink, and says, “Carry on, then. I won’t keep you from your cooking. I’ll try to check in again tomorrow night after my—”
“Tomorrow night?” West shoots him an incredulous glare. “Oh, I don’tthinkso, Draegan.”
He returns the look with a raised eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
“We’re doing this now? Okay. I guess we’re doing this now. Ever since the crash, the only topic you seem capable of discussing with me is whether I’m okay.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “Because I’m concerned about your well-being. Is that a crime now?”
“You ask if I’m well,” she barrels on. “You ask if I need drugs or bandages or pillows—pillows, Draegan! But you know what Iactuallyneed? The one thing missing? A night of normalcy. Well, as normal as things ever get here at Blackmoor. I just…” With a sigh, she crosses the kitchen to stand before him, and—surprising the hell out of me and Drae both—takes his hands. “I wouldreallylove it if we could all sit down and enjoy a meal together. One where no one asks if I’m okay, and no one argues about things that don’t matter, and no one avoids each other because they feel awkward or guilty about things they absolutely shouldn’t, because I certainly don’t.”
I have no idea whether she’s referring to Drae’s guilt over the crash and her battle with the mages, or something else entirely, but she’s managed to bring an actual blush to his stern face.
“This isn’t about… I’m just…” Draegan closes his eyes, gently shaking his head. Then, meeting her gaze again, “You’re right, Miss Avery. I’m sorry. I’ve been… avoidant.”
She squeezes his hands, her eyes imploring. “Come to dinner, Draegan. It won’t be ready for a couple of hours yet, so you’ve still got plenty of time to go upstairs and make your important calls or… you know. Iron your wings. But we’d really love for you to join us.”
At this, the man finally manages a small laugh, the wings rippling behind him. “Iron my wings. Yes, I suppose they could use a good pressing.” He holds her gaze for another beat, then releases her hands and tucks an affectionate finger under her chin. “I’ll be there. I promise.”
* * *
When I hear Drae’s bedroom door close upstairs, I smirk at West and say, “You planning on talking about it, or are we just going to keep pretending nothing’s going on between you and Drae?”
“You already know what’s going on.” She hops up on the countertop again. “He’s Broody McBrooderson, and I’m just trying to keep him from succumbing to an immortal life of eternal sulking.”
“And his current round of brooding has nothing to do with any…attractionbetween the two of you?”
“What?” She huffs out an indignant breath, her eyes looking everywhere but at me. “No. No way. Draegan and me? That’s just—”
I pop an olive into her mouth. “Denial.”
West rolls her eyes. “Fine. Fine! Ugh. We did it. Happy now? Draegan and I did it the other night and now he’s being weird and… What in the name of the Morrigan are you smiling about? I admitted it, okay? No need to rub it in.”
“I’m not rubbing it in, witchling. I’m just glad the bastard finally admitted he has actual feelings for you, even if he’s acting like a world-class dickhead about it now.”
“He hasn’t admittedanything. It was just… just a bit of fun, nothing more.”
“A bit of fun that has your heart racing just mentioning it? And you’re not even giving me any good details. Must’ve been some night.”
She blows out a breath. “I mean… It was pretty intense. You know how he gets.”
“Not in bed, I don’t.”
“Well, just picture him in every other situation you’ve ever witnessed, and extrapolate. It’s not hard to imagine, Augs.”
I grab a potholder and lift the lid on the bubbling sauce, giving it another stir. “Let’s see… Bossy and demanding, with a firm hand and epic control-freak tendencies that are quick to unravel… Oh! And let’s not forget—completely closed-off emotionally with rare and fleeting glimpses of an actual heart, leaving you eager for more and questioning your own sanity as a result.”
She gives me the finger guns. “Ding-ding-ding! Hashtag accurate! We have a winner, folks.”
“West.” I toss the potholder on the stove and take her face in my hands. “Drae’s a damn fool, obviously. But hedoeshave a heart. I know for a fact he cares about you.”
“He told you that?”
