Page 46 of Bitten By the Basilisk

As he strode to her side of the island counter, where the last unclaimed cup of coffee awaited him, he slipped a heavy gold watch onto his wrist and adeptly clasped the band.

When he sat in the stool next to hers, he angled himself toward her, his knees comfortably open, and a waft of his cologne surrounded her—sage, salt, and a woody musk.

She squeezed her thighs together and snuck her lower lip between her teeth, tempted to leave her seat, nestle her hips into the vee of his legs, and plant a kiss in the hollow of his throat.

“I see my fashion sense has your approval,” he teased, slipping his fingers through the handle of his coffee before lifting it to his mouth.

Her cheeks instantly flushed. She quickly tore her gaze from him to look at her phone, not really seeing anything on her home screen. Ugh, it was so unfair.

He’s not the One. He’s not mine.

And yet she couldn’t help responding to herself.

Then why does it feel like fate made a mistake?

Chapter Thirteen

Silas

Before he and Alice headed out in his Bentley, Silas had her unlock her phone and hand it to him. She needed only a second to grok that he wanted her contact info, and the blush that lit up her face nearly got her thrown over his shoulder so he could take her back to bed.

Instead, he sent himself a message from her phone and saved her number as a new contact that he pinned right away.

The drive from the Nest to the spa was unfortunately a short one, but he made it last as long as he could, taking the long way and going a few miles under the speed limit. Alice sat with her bag in her lap, her gaze roaming the luxury interior of his vehicle.

“Tell me more about the kind of art you like making the most,” he asked, laying his right hand on her thigh, close to her knee. “Watercolor? Oils?”

She squeezed her legs together, lightly, as if she couldn’t help it, temporarily trapping his fingers. “Um, I do like traditional watercolor, but I prefer gouache. It’s similar to watercolor, only it’s opaque.”

He briefly glanced at her, saw her parted lips, her gaze pointed at where he touched her. He began stroking her leg with his thumb. “You’re going to have to spell that word for me.”

She let out a puff of laughter. “Gouache?”

“Sounds French, so it’s guaranteed to have too many vowels.” He spied her smiling from the corner of his eye.

“I think it might have more vowels than consonants.”

“Definitely French, then. Do you trust me to pick out a dress for you for tonight?” He glanced at her again, briefly meeting her eyes.

She gave him a small nod. “Yeah, actually.”

Her tacit approval of his taste filled his chest with warmth. “I’ll let you know when to expect Bruno. He’ll bring whatever I end up choosing.”

Again, she nodded, and they fell silent for a moment.

“I need to ask you something,” she said with urgency, as though forcing the words before she could lose her courage.

Based on the conversation she’d almost certainly overheard, he could guess what she wanted to know. “I’ll do my best to answer.”

“What you and Nic were talking about earlier. Something about this time being different.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll start by saying my family’s wealth is well known to nearly anyone I might meet—the town’s supernaturals, its humans, other nests. We own several properties. We fund charities. We employ hundreds across the world, a few dozen here in town.

“The people around me tend to know my name before even speaking to me. And whether they’re sent to me or approach me on their own, their interest does not lie in me but my family’s money and influence.”

Regina’s face appeared in his mind. She would be leaving town sometime this morning to return to Brown.

“I spoke the truth when I said that serpent-folk who accept a mate at the end of the festival are considered engaged, but some choose to part before making anything permanent. My mother was not the first of our kind my father ever mated, merely the first to fall pregnant, and they officially married without any consideration for romance or even affection.