“Are you really sure you’re okay? You’ve been staring at that milk frother for like three minutes.”
I set it down quickly. “Fine. Just tired.”
“You should take a break. Go upstairs, get some rest.”
The last thing I need is more time alone with my thoughts. And Dis.
“I’m good,” I say.
But I’m not good. I’m so far from good it’s almost funny.
I have a shadow king trapped in my flat who needs to feed. I have my best friend working three meters away, completely oblivious. I have his fiancé who could appear at any moment and sense exactly what I’ve done. And I have an idea forming that’s either brilliant or completely insane.
Knowing my recent track record, it’s probably both.
Chapter 8
The Screaming Himbo Incident
I’mpacinginmyliving room like a caged animal. Back and forth. Back and forth. The floorboards creak under my feet with every circuit.
“What are you up to, Little Witch?” Dis asks from his circle.
He’s still sitting cross-legged. Still looking like a dark prince slumming it in the mortal realm. Still devastatingly attractive in ways that make me want to throw something at him.
I whirl around and glare. “If you want to be fed, you will stay silent. Not a word. Not a sound. Nothing.”
His eyes narrow. Those burning blue eyes that see far too much.
“You are planning something foolish,” he observes.
“Silent!” I snap. “I mean it, Disney. One word and I will leave you to starve.”
It’s an empty threat. We both know it’s an empty threat. I’ve already established I’m not cruel enough to actually let him fade.
But Dis’s jaw tightens. The shadows around him ripple with something that might be irritation or might be grudging acceptance.
He falls silent.
I go back to pacing.
The guy from Grindr is supposed to be here any minute. Callum. Twenty-four. Works in marketing. Likes hiking and craft beer and apparently scowling goths who lie about their height on dating apps.
Not dating apps. Hookup apps. The distinction feels important right now. I need the clarity in my life. The precision.
Some confidence would be great too. And I should be confident. Things are going great. By some miracle, Hex never materialised, and now I’m enacting a great plan for problem two. Everything is looking up and it’s going to be fine.
There’s a knock on the door.
My heart nearly stops. For a moment I can’t move. Can’t breathe. This is actually happening. I’m actually going through with this absolutely insane plan.
I force my feet to carry me to the door. Force my hand to turn the handle.
The guy standing in my hallway is tall. Very tall. He has to be at least six foot two. Broad shoulders. A grin that takes up most of his face. The kind of person who probably played rugby at university and has never had a negative or original thought in his entire life.
A himbo. I’ve summoned an actual himbo.
He looks down at me. The grin falters slightly.
