Page 119 of Eternal Devotion

I didn’t have the answers.

Ensley’s teacher friend, Ziggy, arrived first that evening, lugging full bags of takeaway. He greeted us with a sunny hello, offering a sly grin in my direction that I didn’t quite understand.

“It’s the new beau. I knew it would happen. I saw the hearts in Ensley’s eyes last time we got together. I’d bet you’re the reason this asshole has been AFK for weeks.”

“Leave him alone.” Ensley relieved Ziggy of the overfull bags of food. “And I didn’t have hearts in my eyes.”

“You did.”

Since Cristofer had yet to arrive in the city—his trek from the Toronto airport was taking time—I lingered, affecting the role of dutiful boyfriend before I had to escape.

“It’s good to see you again.” Ziggy offered a hand to shake, and I obliged. The instant we made contact, he swore. “Christ, Ensley. Turn your fucking heat up. It’s November, and your boyfriend is freezing.” To me he said, “I thought you were from London. Aren’t you used to this miserable weather? Rain and cold?”

“Oh, I am thoroughly acquainted with a dreary autumn.” I tucked my hands into my trouser pockets. “It’s… poor circulation.”

Ensley, likely trying to save me from the awkward exchange, asked if I’d take the food to the kitchen. When he went to hand over the bags, the aromatic blend of spices drifted in the air, smacking me in the face. A sudden twist of discomfort made me jolt back as though burned, and the takeaway nearly ended up on the floor.

Ensley, reading the revulsion on my face, quickly deduced its cause. “Never mind. I’ve got it.”

Crushing the bags to his chest, he dodged wide and aimed for the kitchen, calling back to Ziggy, “What’s on the menu?”

“Italian. Mars wanted the shrimp alfredo from D’Angelo’s, bringing it up in text no less than six times. You’d think it was a pregnancy craving the way he begged and moaned. So, I got a platter to share.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Don’t worry, I got a platter of red sauce Bolognese as well, so we don’t have to suffer with Poet’s flatulence all night. Lactose intolerant,” he informed me. “I work with twelve-year-olds who stink up my classroom all freaking day. I’ve had enough of other people’s stink.”

To Ensley, he added, “There’s garlic bread and salad too. Mars is bringing beer. Poet said Kate made apology brownies, so he’s bringing them for dessert. I don’t know what that means, but I suspect they’re fighting again.”

Ziggy tugged a receipt from his pocket and stared at it for a long minute as his lips moved in silent calculation. “It’s thirty-five a head tonight. Kind of steep. Sorry. Blame Mars. That place is expensive.”

Although I wouldn’t touch the food, I covered the tab for both Ensley and me, knowing I had been included in the division.

By the time Poet and Mars arrived and everyone filled their plates, DnD game night was underway. Before I could be included in the new campaign, I explained that I was meeting a friend from back home shortly and would have to duck out. Barring unforeseen plans, I promised to join in the following week.

Of course, that depended on how things went with Iulian.

Cristofer’s text landed with perfect timing. The game was getting rowdy, and I was getting restless. I kissed Ensley’s temple and whispered in his ear that I was leaving. He didn’t believe my claim that Cristofer and I were simply meeting to chat. A viable concern. In truth, I had no idea where the night would go, and it was possible that we would move in on Iulian immediately.

Having fed the previous night, I was fully recovered. If we were going to act, there was no better time than the present. It would be better to get it over with, so Ensley didn’t have a chance to worry or get in the way.

Then, barring complications, we could move forward with this unconventional relationship and learn to blend our lives as a couple.

Of course, if Cristofer and I were unable to manipulate the hunters into removing the wards…

29

Mordecai

We rendezvoused at the mansion. Despite the newly erected wards, getting inside was easy, and it gave us somewhere private to talk. The chances of hunters showing up were slim. Night left them at a disadvantage. Since they tampered with my soil, they likely assumed I wouldn’t return.

I emerged from the forest, slinking on four paws, leaves barely rustling with my advance. A silent hunter in my own right, prepared for unexpected humans should I encounter them. Rounding the corner of the building, I discovered Cristofer sitting on the crumbling edge of the long-dead fountain. He clocked me immediately, his hearing as sharp and his nose as dialed into every odorous molecule as mine.

A smirk curled the corner of his lips as I retook human form, sauntering toward him with a newfound confidence. Having a friend at my side dampened my worries.

“Cristofer.”

“My darling Mordecai. How are you, duck?”