Page 67 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

I wasn’t naive. I knew enough about goblins, how the fae used them for their dirty work. Bastian seemed to know everyone. Or rather, everyone seemed to know Bastian. That probably wasn’t a good thing. He moved like someone who was used to power, like he handled copious amounts of it.

My brow furrowed. Who was he to the fae? What kind of work did he do for them? Why had Eaden warned me to be careful?

These were the thoughts plaguing my mind for the entire trip back to Bastian’s house. But when it came into sight, those thoughts slipped right out, replaced with new ones. Part of me hoped Bastian had forgotten his earlier words. The safe thing to do was turn in early for the night. It was nearing 11:00pm. But I was a night owl, used to sleeping late and rising late.

The garage door opened. We slowed to a stop inside. The engine died as the door closed behind us. I climbed off, handing my helmet to Bastian, shaking out my curls. He pulled his off too, and they disappeared. “Still up for a swim, sugar?”

My heart skipped.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds great.”

“Great. I thought I’d open a bottle of wine. You game?” I nodded, not trusting my voice. “Awesome, I’ll just grab a couple of things. Meet you out back?”

“Yep, sure.”

He led me in and split away to the kitchen. I ducked into my room and closed the door, leaning against it, breathing harder than usual. Swimming—with Bastian. I glanced down at myself. My bra and panties were adequate. Maybe I’d just swim in that?

Slipping into the bathroom, I took a few minutes for myself, checking my reflection before heading back out. Bastian was already out back. Electric lanterns that looked gaslit lined the house’s back facade, paired with decorative lights that lined the pool’s perimeter. The place glowed with warmth.

A sound system trilled the electric guitar solo I knew from Maroon Rage in the background. I smiled. He’d done that on purpose. It wasn’t too loud. I could still enjoy the crickets and other nighttime noise.

Bastian stood at the table where we had lunch, his back to me. He had a bottle of wine in hand, twisting the opener into its cork. I approached, watching the way his muscles bunched as he worked. A flare of boldness stole over me. I came up behind him, wrapping my arms around his torso, splaying my fingers over his rock-hard abdomen. Still in my boots, I was able to reach the back of his neck. I planted a kiss there.

He hummed, pleased.

“What did you pick?” I asked, leaning around to look at the bottle in his large, capable hands.

“Thought you’d like a pinot noir.”

“I would. Good choice.”

“You’ll enjoy this one. Been holding on to it for a while. Snagged it at a wine auction.”

“A… A wine auction? They have things like that?”

He chuckled, pulling the cork free with effortless grace. He didn’t slosh any from the bottle like I did on occasion. I dropped my arms so that he could fill our glasses. The red liquid trickled out, pooling up. “They’ve got auctions for everything under the sun, sugar.”

“Right.” I swallowed, my throat suddenly parched. He filled each glass with a perfect pour, not a single drop wasted as he turned the bottle to avoid dripping, setting it into the ice bucket on the table.

I smiled. He liked his pinot noir chilled like a white. So did I.

“Got this one for a steal, actually. It’s a six-thousand-dollar bottle, but I practically stole it, for two.”

I sputtered. “Two?! You mean, like, two hundred?”

“Two thousand. Told you, been holding on to it for a while.”

I gawked, glancing between him and the bottle. This wine would be wasted on me. Well, not entirely. I treated myself to a fifty-dollar bottle occasionally. But I’d never had one that cost more than a hundred and fifty, and that had been a special occasion last year. A gift from Eaden on my birthday. I huffed and said, “I’m gonna to have to tell Eaden I feel short-changed.”

He grinned, lifting the glasses, handing me one. “Cheers, sugar.”

“What are we toasting to?”

“To forgetting the past and embracing the future. To making worthwhile exceptions.” His eyes glittered with meaning.

“To worthwhile exceptions,” I repeated, trying to ignore the sensation expanding in my chest as I clinked my glass against his.

I took a sip. Light, crisp flavor exploded on my tongue. I swished it around a moment before swallowing. Then I took another sip. Bastian eagerly watched me. “God, this is so smooth!”