“He never offered me the same courtesy,” I say with a trembling shrug.
“Exactly. You have no idea what it does to me to know that he’s had you for so long, that he’s made you wait in that cottage for him like he’s the goddess’s gift to woman, when all this time he’s never made you come?—”
“You…you heard that.”
I know I blush easily. I know the sensation of my whole body turning warm with embarrassment. But I have never felt a humiliation so bone-deep as the wave that sweeps over me, knowing Rafe had heard me say that.
“I’ve been thinking of nothing else ever since,” he growls. His tail brushes along my arm. “He’s the real criminal, and you should know what you’ve been missing out on. I have such plans for you, but not when you’re his. But when you stand there with your lip trembling and your skin flushed, I think that maybe you were never his, that maybe you’re a fairy queen sent to be my doom.”
He’s on me again, pushing me back into the couch, his hands on my thighs, pressing them open while his tail slides up my leg, tugging at the hem of my skirts, pushing themup up upover my thighs. The tip brushes over my knickers, and a whimper escapes my lips.
“I can’t stop myself when you make that noise.” Rafe’s lips find mine again, hard and urgent. I’ve never felt like this before, my body alight, my belly heavy, filled with this aching need for something I can’t explain but is definitely, absolutely coming from him.
Rafe stares down at me, his eyes doing war.
“Please,” I whisper.
“Damnit, woman, I’m trying to do the right thing here.” His chest heaves. He unclamps his fingers from my thighs and stands up.
No, come back.
“I think I’dbetter go,” he says.
“Rafe—”
“When you’re a free woman, Autumn, when we know what’s happened to Warrick and he’s either in the ground or the ink is wet on your divorce papers, then I will hold you down and make you come so many times that you forget his name. But until then, you’re too good for me to corrupt you like this.”
I’m really not.
“Rafe, I have to tell you?—”
“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, my Patroness of Lost Causes, so we’re going to do everything right from the beginning. I won’t give you a reason to walk away from me. How’s this for a selfless act?” He grins, but his smile’s all wobbly. “If this doesn’t break the curse, then I guess I’m doomed.”
With that, he whirls around, his clothes falling from his body as he shrinks down into them. A moment later, a flame-point Siamese bolts for the window, headbutts the sash open, and disappears into the night.
XIX
Celeste: Congratulations on an amazing opening! If you and Rafe aren’t shacked up in bed all day, can you send him around to mine? There’s a mouse in the larder, and I’d like him gone.
Rafe doesn’t come to the cottage. I toss and turn in my empty bed, feeling the absence of his warm body against my hip, wishing for things that I’ve no right to wish for.
The next day, when I open up the meadery, Rafe’s not there, either. There’s no cat trying to dunk his paws in my cream doughnut or knock all the tools off the counter, no slinky body wrapped around my ankles, no mischievous grin to greet me.
I didn’t know it was possible to feel the loss of a furry menace so greatly.
I tell myself that I just have to give him time, that he’ll come back, especially because he can’t turn into a human unless he’s around me. I wander between the tables, wiping them and wiping them again and rearranging the menus because I don’t know what to do with myself when he’s not here.
He still hasn’t shown up when I flip the open sign. The meadery fills with customers, and I rush about filling pints and explaining the menu and running tankards to the kitchen and stopping a sword fight from breaking out amongst a bachelor party. He’s still gone when I kick out the last of the bachelor party and start the evening’s cleaning, but I put on his playlist and try to tell myself that he’s okay, he’s perfectly safe, we’re good, he’s just trying to do the right thing because he may be a thief but he’s more of a gentleman than Warrick ever was?—
“Hello, Autumn.”
I don’t recognise the voice.
I jerk up. A man stands in the middle of the room. Tall, bald, built like a football star crossed with a beer crate, wearing a crinkly leather jacket and an expression of wry amusement. He has both his hands behind his back. I locked the door, and I didn’t hear him come in. And I’m aware that I’m all alone, that Celeste and Pax have gone for the night, and the only weapons in the place are the two decorative swords I rescued from the bachelors and hung above the fire on the other side of the room.
“We’re closed, sir. You need to leave.” I shuffle down the counter. My phone is on the end. If I can grab it without him noticing, I can call someone?—
“You’re not closed for me.” The man grins, but there’s no mirth in it, only malice. “I’m Stuart. I’m a friend of your husband. Perhaps he’s mentioned me?”
