Page 64 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“We will make the announcement soon,” he says, and my mood deflates. It wasn’t particularly good to begin with. I make no move to get up and Lark’s fingers twitch.

He’s impatient. I’ve seen that before. Not in everything. He was very patient when he was training Drew to work in the café. But he’s impatient when he wants to close up for the night, except when it comes to ushering me and Ophelia out of there.

I hold out my hand. He reaches for it, obviously expecting to help me to my feet, and that’s what gives me the advantage. I pull hard, and Lark falls to his knees beside me.

Even unintentionally, the movement is graceful.

“Dante.”

“Lark.”

He sighs. “I told Oisin I would be back in time.”

“Go then.” He won’t. A strange feeling rises in me, and I feel a little sick but also my heart is beating too fast and I don’t want it to stop. He’s barely looked at me all afternoon. That’s the issue. One day of his eyes on me, and I don’t want anything else.

I’m spoiled. That’s the other issue. The dark little secret I keep to myself because truthfully, I kind of hate that I am, that I’m prone to jealousy and fits of pique, even if they’re only inside my own head. But I’ve been spoiled my whole life and one day of Lark’s attention has made it worse.

“I cannot leave you in here alone.”

“Will the plants eat me, do you think?”

“No.” Lark’s eyes dart about, and his magic butts up against me when he frowns. His next no is more confident.

“I don’t need to be there for the announcement, do I? No one will expect me to be. It’s pretty clear what they think of me.”

“They know nothing about you.”

“I know. That’s fine.” It’s not. And yet, it kind of is. I know, really, it doesn’t matter what the fae think of me. It’s better, even, if they underestimate me. That’s how Grant seems to get everything done.

Well, that and all his magic. And being a vampire.

“Dante.” My name is an exhale, and Lark leans over me like he did after our nap yesterday afternoon. I didn’t want him to kiss me then. I couldn’t bear it.

If he doesn’t do it now, I think I might die.

He hovers just above me. He braided his hair this morning, the first time I’ve ever seen him do it, and the plait hangs over his shoulder, threaded through with tiny beads that catch the light. He’s still on his knees, resting by my hip, but one hand is planted next to my head and he’s not quite close enough…

“I will not do something you will later regret.”

“And you won’t regret it?” I ask.

“Fae deal in indulgences, not regrets,” Lark replies. His expression softens, almost a smile. “I could never regret a moment spent in your company. I never have.”

My breath catches. Never? We haven’t spent that much time alone at all, but I’ve spent countless hours in the café, with or without other members of the pack, but Lark’s always been there, one true constant and I—

I grab the front of his tunic, not caring at all that I’m wrinkling the fabric, and drag him down until our lips meet. Lark doesn’t fight it. He doesn’t freeze when I press my mouth to his. No. He fucking melts into it, curving his body down over mine and making a faint, desperate noise that for one second I think is a sob.

It’s not. I pull back just enough to check, but Lark chases my mouth, and our lips catch again and again until I slide a hand over his shoulder and his tongue snakes into my mouth.

Oh, God. Heat rises under my skin. Lark’s magic brushes against mine with every kiss, and I do what I can to drag him closer, parting my legs so he can push one knee between them, tugging on his tunic until his lithe body is pressed against mine.

Self-consciousness strikes me quickly, and I jerk back with a gasp. Lark has my face in his hands and kisses just next to my mouth.

“What is it?” he murmurs. He’s otherworldly without his glamour, but even more so now that his lips are slick and swollen and his cheeks are faintly flushed.

“I—Sorry. Nothing.”

“Dante.” That tone is a warning.