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Can he do that?
Shit.
I nod and, without another word, I shimmy back into the spot next to Nine. He lays out his arm while I snuggle up against him. He wraps it around me, rubbi
ng my shoulder lightly as if he still can’t get enough of me.
So what if I’m making up for too many years of missed caresses, lonely nights, and lost touches? I deserve it.
I deserve a little happiness.
And being with Nine? Nothing makes me happier.
Okay. I take that back.
Hunting down the mysterious street sleeper and seeing if my suspicions hold any water… that would make me fucking ecstatic.
Too bad it seems impossible.
Everything is against me. I swear it. Seriously. I mean, as soon as I throw myself into searching for him again, the weather goes to hell.
What’s that saying? April flowers bring May flowers? The urban Newport’s gonna have weeds sprouting from the cracks in its pavement at this rate because it just doesn’t stop raining.
The homeless scatter. Of course they do. I would, too. Then I thought maybe they would be desperate enough to seek shelter inside of the abandoned building.
Nope.
We enlist my parents in the search, though I have no hope that Ash and Callie will be able to find him. If my suspicions are right, the only reason why the stranger keeps poking his nose around Newport is because of me.
So I spend countless days looking. I return to the apartment looking like a drowned rat half the time thanks to the constant storms, but I’m determined.
When I’m not trying to find the maybe-Oberon, it’s back to training. Except now I don’t have just one teacher. Ash and Nine take turns teaching me with their respective swords and techniques.
At least I finally learned how Nine was providing everything for the apartment. Though he can’t go far, he still has enough magic left inside of him to use portals to zip around town. Not only that, but he’s created his own pockets in the shadows, pulling all kinds of shit from out of there.
He has more clothes. Some money. And a silver sword.
Both fae males accept that me using a sword when I inevitably face Melisandre again is a last resort. I’ve gotten pretty good at it if I do say so myself, but that doesn’t change my decision that I’d rather not be the one responsible for killing her, despite what the damn Shadow Prophecy says.
That’s why I’m so desperate to see if that man really is the long deposed Summer King of Faerie in disguise. If that’s Oberon and I can present him with the chance to take care of Melisandre for me… that would just be perfect.
He’s my only hope.
Nine tours the neighborhood with me, too. Since the formal claiming, that final touch, the last of his sensitivity to the sunshine has finally disappeared. He doesn’t like it, and he insists on wearing shades whenever we go out during the rare times it’s not raining, but Nine can walk out into the sunlight without any side effects.
Not that he would stay behind, even if the sun still presented a threat to him. Callie hadn’t been kidding when she said a bonded fae found it difficult to be separated from his mate for too long. It’s like, every time I turn around, Nine’s right there.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
About a week and a half into our search, the weather finally plays ball with us. The sun is bright, hanging high in a lovely blue sky. There’s not a single cloud in sight. The puddles on the asphalt dry up and, slowly but surely, as it warms up, the homeless start to fill their corners again.
And there, propped up in his usual spot as if he’s been waiting for us all along, is the man with the vivid green eyes.
I couldn’t tell you if his face was the same or not. It’s terrible to admit, but I never really paid all that much attention to him; his bright eyes were the only thing that stuck out at me and, now that I’ve heard all about the Summer King, I can’t help but wonder if that was on purpose or not.
Know what I do notice? His props are missing.
The blankets are there, sure, but that’s it. The crumpled coffee cup? Gone. The scattered newspapers, the cardboard sign? Nope.
