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“Well, if you considered my live stream idea…”
He stuffed the waffle into his mouth and grinned at me, cheeks bulging. “Trust me, babe, I’m considering it. And all your other ideas.”
“You know, you could probably even get more seating in the arena,” I said thoughtfully, slicing into a perfectly poached egg. “If you updated and rearranged a bit.”
“God, you’re so hot when you talk about ways to make me more money.” He rubbed his boot against my calf under the table. “Your skills are totally wasted writing corporate PR drivel for HotSex Corporation.”
“Yeah, probably.” I chuckled, digging into my breakfast.
I could feel Holt watching me, and when I looked up, there was a glint in his eye like he was thinking intently about something, but before I could ask, he smiled and stuffed a piece of fried chicken into his mouth.
—
“That place was amazing,” I said to Holt as we left the quaint but expensive antiques store, Set in Stone, a couple of hours later. “Was that tea set really made from crystallised leaves and flowers?”
“Yep. Fae-made.” Holt automatically threaded his fingers through mine as we made our way down the street. “That one looked old, possibly made for royalty, hence the ridiculous price tag they’ve slapped on it. We can probably find a way cheaper version in the thrift store. One of the cups just might have a tiny crack or something.”
“And was that coffin really the sleeping casket for some old important vampire?” I asked in a hushed voice, gripping Holt’s hand tighter.
A few people who passed us eyed him with appreciation. I mean, he obviously stood out in his leather pants, lime green shirt and pink fur coat. Every now and then, someone’s gaze would slide over to me and grow a little confused, like they didn’t understand why he was holding hands with a boring dude in boring jeans and a boring long-sleeved T-shirt.
But instead of it making me feel self-conscious and kind of shitty, it just made me smug. Yeah, that’s right—THIS beautiful creature is into ME. Suck it, buttheads.
“I mean, it said so on the sign,” Holt answered with a shrug. “Blay, the gargoyle who owns the place, prides himself on finding the authentic shit. Ooh, let’s get milkshakes.”
He dragged me to a small milkshake shop called Shriek Shakes, whispering to me that the young woman behind the counter was a banshee. I got a small triple chocolate shake called The Mud Cleansed from the Clothes of Those About to Meet their End, while Holt decided on a maple syrup and bacon shake with the name The Last Breakfast of a Man Marked for Death.
“Interesting, uh, shake names,” I whispered nervously as we watched the cheerful banshee—her teeth blunt and lips a perky pink in her human skin—make our milkshakes.
Holt shrugged, sliding his arm around me and pulling me into his side while we waited. “It’s their gimmick. Spooky or whatever. Goths love it.”
There were actually a couple of goths sitting at the counter by the window, drinking milkshakes in blue cups with long trails of AAAAAAAAAs winding around them, like a scream tearing through the sky.
A few minutes later, we were wandering back down the street sipping our shakes, hand-in-hand. Holt mentioned that the thrift store he wanted to show me wasn’t far, so we took our time as we walked. The sun had been shining brightly this morning, but now clouds were rolling in overhead. Holt’s sunglasses were perched on the top of his head, his long hair tied back into a high ponytail.
I kept sneaking glances at him while we walked. I just liked looking at him. I liked his face—both versions of it. I liked the way he dressed—all smart and polished at work, and freer and more flamboyant in his time off. I liked listening to him talk. I liked how openly affectionate he was with me, and how he didn’t seem able to go more than a few seconds without touching some part of me.
I liked everything about him. A lot. So much.
Just thinking about him made me feel all jittery, my belly swooping. I clutched his hand tighter, smiling when he grinned at me, then leaned over to kiss my cheek before stealing a sip of my milkshake.
“Mm, that’s good.” He held out his cup. “Want to try mine?”
I took a hesitant sip, pretty sure I wouldn’t like the taste of bacon and ice cream, but it was surprisingly good. “That’s nice.”
“If those human goths hadn’t been in there, I would’ve asked for a little something extra.” He nudged me with his elbow. “They have some special syrups in the back for empyns. Pretty sure they have the one that makes you super horny. Not that I need any extra help with that when it comes to you.”
I flushed with pleasure, then mumbled, “Me neither,” around my straw as I slurped up the last of my milkshake.
Once Holt had finished his, I took his empty cup and made my way to a nearby trashcan to get rid of them. Before turning back, I glanced at the other side of the street, then froze when I saw a familiar figure coming out of a clothing store.
“Babe?” Holt appeared beside me when I didn’t move, sliding his palm up my chest. “You okay?”
“That’s Marcus,” I hissed. Holt’s head immediately whipped around to see where I was looking.
“Where? The guy with the glasses? Blond hair?”
“Uh-huh.” I rubbed the back of my neck with a chuckle. “Weird. I haven’t seen him for a couple of years.”
