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Ryder grins at me as Fitzgerald ushers us over to a huge table laden with food. “Indulge, my dears. Fenric will bring your drinks over shortly. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
I am, in fact. Famished. More so, no doubt, because of the immense amount of magic I’d expended earlier hiding us from those hell hounds. I grab a hand-painted wooden plate and fill it high with fruit, maduros, cheese, and some sort of guava tart. Fitzgerald sits us down at a nearby table and regales us with tales of his recent business ventures while we eat our fill. As promised, Fenric also brings our drinks a few minutes later.
“…so basically, I have a chest full of cursed Aztec gold that both the witches and the faeries want, and let’s just say things got a bit heated in the bidding war… there may have been a lost finger or two! Perfectly dreadful business.”
As he finishes up his last story, Fitzgerald’s eyes move across the room and widen. “Speaking of business—a client has just arrived that I must attend to. Please don’t think me a boar for abandoning you a few minutes.”
“Not at all,” I say with a smile.
Fitzgerald saunters off and I turn my smile to Ryder. “You were right—a vast improvement over Dante.”
“Fitz is a dear old friend. You won’t find a more welcoming person,” Ryder adds.
I take a sip of my mojito, the taste of lime and mint making my tongue tingle. “This place is kind of paradise, too. I suppose if we have to hole up somewhere for the night, this is about as good as it gets.”
“Hopefully all his talk about us being a couple isn’t bothering you,” Ryder says. “He’s just like that.”
“It’s not. After all, he’s flattering the hell out me.” I laugh.
“Yes, well, it’s understandable why he’s so smitten.” Ryder’s eyes meet mine for a moment, and I take a breath to keep from blushing. “Too bad he’s fighting a lost cause. I’m not the settling down type.”
I feel an uncomfortable flutter in my stomach. Ryder is hot, but he’s also cocky and impulsive and a total player. So why do I care?
“Well, with an endless array of people throwing themselves at your feet, why should you.” I shrug, super casual, and force myself to smile.
“Relationships just aren’t my thing.” He takes a sip of his rum, his teal eyes distant for a moment. “I learned that the hard way a long time ago.”
“Oh?” I raise my own glass to my lips, trying to hide my burning curiosity. He’s hinted at this before. Something obviously happened. Something big.
Emotion moves over his face for a moment, but he waves a hand. “Don’t listen to me. It’s nothing.”
Fitzgerald approaches again, fresh martini in hand. “Dearest Ven, several of my guests would love very much for you to grace the dance floor with your presence… if you’re so inclined of course.”
“We have this little magical orb issue,” Ryder says. “We can’t be more than about three or four feet apart.”
“Oh!” Fitzgerald says. “How terribly intriguing. You’ll have to tell me how that happened.”
Ryder and I give him our slightly different versions of the tale, and Fitzgerald cackles with delight. “How interesting! I’ll do some research and see if I can’t find an artifact of some sort to break the spell.”
“That would be great,” I say.
“As for dancing,” Ryder says, “I suppose we could at least give everyone a good show.”
“Better than nothing, eh?” Fitzgerald says, grinning broadly.
“Sure.” I find myself smiling in return. It’s nearly impossible not to around the fun-loving old demon.
Ryder offers his hand and I follow him out to the dance floor. The band is playing a lively local song with a zippy tempo. We begin to dance in the midst of the other party guests. It’s not so much pairs of people, but everyone dancing together as a group. The colored lights strung overhead make me feel like I’m on holiday, instead of on a deadly mission to find a lost friend.
After a while, I start to feel worn out again, but the party seems to be winding up instead of winding down. As if sensing my waning energy, Ryder steps up closer to me. His fingers slide across my hip and around to the small of my back.
“Are you getting tired?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah. I need a good night’s sleep to recoup the energy I spent earlier.”
“Final dance, then, and we’ll go find our room. Fitzgerald said we can use his guest house.”
The next song starts up, a slower and more sultry beat. Ryder pulls me even closer, so our hips brush together, and our chests are mere inches apart. His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel a rush of butterflies in my stomach.
