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Holt suddenly spun me and dragged me toward the wall of a jewellery store, plastering himself against it very dramatically and looping his arms around my neck.
“He’s looking this way.” He tugged me closer, trying to hitch his leg up onto my hip and struggling thanks to his tight leather pants. “Quick, let’s make out. Shove your tongue in my mouth. I’ll grope your ass.”
I gurgled with laughter, instead giving him a quick kiss. “I don’t need to prove anything to him. It was just a surprise seeing him.”
“Maybe I want to prove something to him.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked over my shoulder. “Although I guess I owe him for being a cheating asshole.”
That made me grin and slip my arms around his waist under his coat. “See? Who cares about him. Let’s go to the thrift store. I want to see all the cursed objects. From a very safe distance.”
Holt huffed, glancing over my shoulder again. His eyes gleamed a split second before he grabbed the back of my head and yanked me forward, crushing his mouth to mine. He plunged his tongue deep, and a shiver rippled down my spine from the possessive kiss. I was a little dazed when he pulled back, his hand sliding around to cup my jaw.
“That was for me,” he murmured, pressing another brief kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Not for him. Well, a little for him. He’s still looking.”
I really didn’t want to talk to Marcus, and he was nosy enough to approach us to find out who I was seeing, so I tangled my fingers through Holt’s and started leading him down the sidewalk.
“Do you think he’s still with the orgy hippie?” he asked in a murmur.
I chuckled. “I don’t know. Probably. But I don’t care.”
“Sorry,” Holt said gruffly. “I just kinda hate him. But also feel very grateful that he was a total idiot who let you go. It’s a confusing blend of emotions. He sucks for hurting you. I hate him. And want to thank him.”
“Honestly, if I had to speak to him again, I’d thank him for doing it too.” I squeezed Holt’s hand and gave him a shy smile. He smiled back, eyes softening as they trailed over my features.
“Will you stay over again tonight?” he asked. “And Sunday night? We could go to your place first to get what you need for work on Monday.”
My belly squeezed tight. “Yeah, I’d love to.”
“And maybe we could get dinner in the week,” he continued eagerly. “You don’t have to cook this time. I’ll take you somewhere. There’s a great restaurant run by a ghoul couple. Amazing breadsticks.”
“Okay,” I said shyly, my heart feeling like it would burst from happiness. “That sounds nice. Thank you.”
Marcus had already been completely forgotten by the time we reached the thrift store, a rundown little place with a mishmash of items in the window and a musty smell in the air when we stepped inside.
It looked like a typical thrift store, with rows of second-hand clothes organised by type, and big shelves lining the sides filled with knickknacks and a random assortment of items, like old puzzles, crockery and a collection of worn books and DVDs no one wanted.
Still holding my hand, Holt led me between two clothing aisles to the very back of the store. There was a curtained-off doorway with a sign saying, Staff Only, but he pulled me through it and up a narrow wooden staircase that creaked loudly with every step. At the end of the dark, windowless corridor at the top, I saw a beefy guy sitting on a little stool, reading a dog-eared romance novel from the eighties with a couple in a loving embrace on the cover.
“Afternoon, Holt,” he said gruffly, then turned his golden-brown eyes on me. His features were sharp and narrow, but they reminded me of Seb and Ludo.
Werewolf, I thought instinctively, feeling a little proud of myself for starting to recognise the signs of non-humans.
“Does Big E know you’ve brought him up here?” he asked Holt, nodding at me. I flushed, clutching Holt’s hand tighter and wondering who the fuck Big E was.
“Taylor is a regular at Goliaths,” Holt answered smoothly, “and my boyfriend. He’s fine, Wes.”
I didn’t hear what Wes the werewolf said in response as he heaved himself up and produced a big brass key from his pocket to unlock the door. My ears were ringing slightly.
Holt had just called me his boyfriend.
In an instant, I reverted back to a nervous teenager, my palm sweating against his, my heart thudding, my gut churning with breathless excitement.
When Wes opened the door and stepped back, Holt tugged me into the room, but I didn’t see any of the objects dotted around the space at first. I was a little dazed. And then worry began creeping in. Maybe he’d just said it so Wes would let me in here. Maybe he hadn’t meant it.
I’d momentarily forgotten that Holt was an empyn, that he could feel what I was feeling, until he turned to face me with an uncertain expression as Wes shut the door behind us, leaving us alone.
“Should I not have said that?” he asked anxiously. It was strange seeing that kind of vulnerability on his face, as if he was suddenly doubting it. “I’m sorry, I just thought… Um, we’ve been spending so much time together, and I like you so much, and I haven’t hired any strippers since meeting you—”
“No,” I blurted, which didn’t really clear things up, so I pushed through my nerves to add, “I-I feel that way about you too. I don’t want to… be with anyone else, Holt. I just wasn’t sure how, um, serious you were…”
