Page 262 of Sorrow & Strangers

“Thank you for the Solstice gift,” I say. “And the note.” The note is now worn from how many times I’ve opened and refolded it. “I got you something,” I add before he can say anything.

“You did?” he asks, and there is a heartbreaking undertone of surprise in his voice.

“I did.” I look at the wrapped gift sitting in my open closet door. “How can I get it to you?”

“If you leave it on the porch, I’ll be able to collect it.” It surprises me. No doubt he can enter my room now. The runes are gone, and I’m no longer wearing the ring, so he can absolutely just pop in. I am not sure how long it will last, but he is clearly trying to respect my boundaries.

“Two seconds,” I say, excitement sizzling through me.

I place my phone on the bed and retrieve the box before going downstairs. Stepping out into the night, I place the gift on the porch at the top of the steps. I pause to look out into the night before turning to go back inside, nearly running back up the stairs to my room.

“Okay, it’s there,” I say, a little out of breath.

A moment later, I hear him tearing the wrapping paper, and I wiggle in anticipation, hoping he’ll love the runed decanter that will keep his drink at the perfect temperature. It is pure crystal from the Gylian Mountains, and I had stranger engraved on the front in my script, along with a peony. It’s signed, love, little fae.

“Love, little fae,” he whispers, and I feel my anxiety amping up.

“What?”

“The engraving . . .” He goes silent for a moment. “I love it.”

“You do?”

“I do. Thank you, little fae.”

I smile, but I feel awkward. This is all so uncomfortably weird, being like this with him. “I should probably go?”

“Why?” he asks, tension lining his voice.

“Well, I⁠—”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he says, interrupting me. “I’m just greedy for more of your voice.”

“Well, maybe I could stay a while longer.”

“I don’t want to keep you. I’ve just missed your voice.”

I’m not sure why this makes me feel even more awkward. Perhaps he’s simply placating me. “I can go⁠—”

“No!” he nearly yells. He goes quiet, then clears his throat. “I . . . desperately do not want that.”

“Then ask me to stay,” I whisper, my stomach fluttering.

“Stay.”

“Say please.”

He chuckles darkly. “I see someone has been saving their brattiness for me.”

“That doesn’t sound like a please.” My lips pull into a smile, and I lie down on the bed, my body thrumming from the thrill of just hearing his voice. The awkwardness has completely cleared, leaving only blissful tension in its wake.

“Brat,” he growls softly, and I bite my lip. “A brat who is desperate for me to pull her back into line.” I try to stifle my moan at his words, but he can definitely hear it because he chuckles again. “You’ve definitely been running wild.”

“Have you been thinking of me?” I ask cheekily.

“I’ll let you figure out the answer to that,” he says, and I can hear him pouring more liquid, but this is more than a measure, and I’m betting he is transferring his scotch from his old decanter into his new one.

“Say it? Please?” I frown, a little disappointed in myself that I need to hear it.