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CHAPTER SIX
Bethany
“I don’t think I can sing anymore,” I croak, my voice hoarse from five hours of non-stop singing.
“Not even one more country song?” smirks Zeno as he makes cowboy hats appear on both of our heads and transforms our hard rock leather outfits into denim and rhinestones.
“You’re a bad influence. You know I love country,” I say, tempted to wreck my strained vocal cords and give in to one more song.
“Whirlwind, this is the first time in over seventy thousand years I have participated in human activities. If I am a bad influence, I can only have learned it from you.”
“In that case, congratulations. You’ve learned from the best,” I say teasingly, although his statement has made a flutter spread through me.
He’s lived through pretty much every age imaginable, but he’s doing a first with me, and even if it is just karaoke, that feels special.
Tonight was supposed to be all about Zeno, but it turned into one of the best nights of my life. My stomach muscles physically hurt from laughing so much.
When I first met Zeno, he was so serious, but tonight he’s really come out of his shell, or should I say lamp, and he is hilarious.
Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he’s got a rich, silky voice, and every time he made eye contact with me while singing, I got butterflies in my stomach.
“Tomorrow is Saturday, so we’ve got the whole day to continue your education on human activities,” I say, switching off the television to remove the temptation to sing another song or twenty. “And unlike you, mere mortals like me need our beauty sleep.”
“You are exquisite. How can sleep improve on perfection?” he says earnestly, and although I’ve been getting over-the-top compliments from men all day, only the ones from Zeno have made my heart flip.
“It’s just a silly expression, but trust me, I do not look good when I’m tired. Usually, it’s because I’m up late with my book boyfriends, not singing in my living room.”
“Who are these book boyfriends?” he growls, and a shiver runs through me as his skin darkens like the bottom of the ocean.
He does this every time I talk about other men, and I’ve got to admit, I like it.
“Book boyfriends are the pretend guys I read about in romance novels,” I say nonchalantly, and a rippling black shimmer spreads across his body.
“So, they are not real men that have your affection?” he asks in a slow, deep voice that makes my breath catch.
“They’re only real in my mind,” I say, and shadows begin to swirl around him.
“What is it you like so much about these men?” he asks, the jealousy in his voice so evident I can almost feel it.
“It’s the whole idea of there being one woman who can turn a guy’s whole life upside down, and he’ll do anything to get her. Falling madly in love is the dream, and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy every time I read about it. It’s what I want for me one day.”
“This is an interesting concept,” he says, teething his lower lip as he muses on my words. “But this leaves me with more questions. If you are only seeking to find one man to fall in love with, why did you wish to be irresistible to all men?”
“Because I was drunk, and my stupid drunk brain figured if everyone was attracted to me, I’d have a better chance of falling in love.”
“I see,” he says, stroking his hand down his dark beard, his expression deep in thought. “This theory that one particular woman can change a man’s entire existence intrigues me. May I try reading one of these books?”
“Fuck yes!” I yell out, a little too enthusiastically.
“Reading is the best. It takes you through so many different emotions. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before,” I say, walking over to my shelf and pushing aside a couple of butt plugs and some strawberry-flavored lube to reach my books.
I’ve got some serious spice here, but I should probably start him off with some entry-level romance.
“Try this one first. It’s a classic,” I say, grabbing a copy of Pride and Prejudice and tossing it in his direction, knowing that he’ll never let it fall.
He catches it with magic mid-air, and his dark eyes lock on as the pages flick through at an extraordinary pace.
In less than ten seconds, the book floats back and slots itself onto my shelf without so much as a bent corner.
