A furious blush rose up my throat. “Amelie is in the kitchen.”
“Amelie is a grown woman.” He lowered his voice while pressing his lips against my ear. “I’m pretty sure she knows how this works.”
“There better not be anything working out there,” she called from the bar. “I have a full stomach, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Cackling at his indignant expression, I wriggled my hips. “You are kind of smooshing me.”
“Sorry, Squirt.” He leveraged himself off me. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Nah.” I sat up along with him, straddled his thighs, and plastered myself against his chest. “I liked it.”
His brows quirked. “Then why…?”
A loud rumble in my stomach told him I had breakfast on my mind.
“Want me to whip up some grub for you?” He brushed his fingers along the uninjured side of my jaw. “There are plenty of waffles and syrup to go around.”
“As tempting as that sounds, Heinz told me I’m on a liquid diet for the next few days.” I touched my cheek. “It doesn’t hurt as much today, but I’m not putting pressure on it, either.” I swiped my tongue along the backside of my teeth. “Oddly enough, my tongue feels as good as new.”
That probably had something to do with the amount of magic Linus had channeled into healing me.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Concern tightened his expression. “Still, you should eat something before you go.”
Hating to ruin the moment, I saw no way around telling him the truth. Especially since I was certain that Amelie had already spilled those beans. “I usually eat with Linus.”
“Ah.” He gripped my hips and set me on the floor in front of him. “Well, that’s okay, I guess.” He rubbed his hands over his scalp. “I can see how it might have been lonely over here until Amelie moved in.”
The faintest suggestion I ought to bail on Linus threaded his words, but he didn’t press me on the issue, and I was grateful not to have to shoot him down. Breakfast at the carriage house was part of my nightly routine. Depending on the menu, I often left convinced it was the best part. I wouldn’t miss that date for anything less than…
Fiddlesticks.
Date was not the right word. Even in my head, it sounded too dangerous.
“I should get going.” I hooked my thumbs in my belt loops. “Are you guys still watching a movie?”
“That’s the plan.” He did the same, not pushing for more, just holding on like he wanted to keep me here with him. “How long do these lessons of yours last?”
“Two hours on a good night. Four on bad ones. Six if I’m a total dunce.” My hand cramped just thinking about the last eight-hour stint I earned for utterly failing one of Linus’s infamous pop quizzes. “I’m still working aboard the Cora Ann part-time, so I have a freer schedule these days.”
Boaz gave a sharp tug. “Has Cricket mentioned Amelie?”
“Neely says Cricket was ready to kick puppies when Amelie called in and quit. She’s been a fixture at Haint Misbehavin’ for years. She was one of their most dependable ghost tour guides.” I gave a helpless shrug. “I report to Cricket once a week on the Cora Ann’s progress, but I’m not around to hear more gossip about Amelie if there is any.”
That wasn’t what he was really asking, though.
“Amelie had a solid alibi,” I reassured him. “Everyone knows she’s been working toward her degree. Her cover story about spending six months as an intern at a firm in Atlanta isn’t that big of a stretch.” I glanced toward the kitchen, but Amelie was nowhere in sight. “She ought to be able to pick up her job and her schooling right where she left off.”
“Let’s hope.” He squeezed my fingers. “I want her reentry to be as normal as possible.”
For a Low Society necromancer, life wouldn’t be that altered. In the big-picture sense, at least. Most of them worked human jobs, attended human schools, and led human lives. Some even married humans, though the difference in lifespans made such unions bittersweet.
Amelie could resume her job as a Haint, and she could return to college, but she would never step foot in the Lyceum again. Her days of attending lavish moonlit balls and studying under her mother as the spare heir were over. Her ties to the Pritchard family had been cut, and most Low Society families would be hesitant to risk ostracism for welcoming her into their midst.
“Me too.” I kissed his cheek then twisted out of reach before he distracted me again. “Do not leave without telling me goodbye.”
His answering grin was wicked. “Yes, ma’am.”
After gathering Keet and my grimoire, I passed through the kitchen on my way to eat with Linus.
Amelie must have slipped out while Boaz had me otherwise occupied. Unsurprising since her threshold for PDA was nonexistent where he was concerned. I couldn’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to watch my brother tickling my best friend’s tonsils with his tongue either.
A pang struck each time it hit me she had traded on her family name for power that had almost killed me.
Miserable all over again, I plodded the rest of the way to the carriage house where the closed-door policy irked me for no reason. I knocked, but Linus never appeared. Leaning in, I pressed my ear to the door and heard a loud whirring-grinding noise. Curious, I decided that since he must be expecting me, I could let myself in.
Linus was, as usual, in the kitchen. But this time, he manned a fancy blender I knew hadn’t been in the cupboards when he moved in. Its throaty growl would have given Jolene a run for her money. No wonder he hadn’t heard me.
Jars of supplements littered the counter along with fresh fruit sliced into cubes, two percent milk—bleck—and a tub of protein powder. The mixture swirling in the glass basin was pink enough to remind me of strawberries, but I had my doubts about its tastiness based on the rest of his arsenal.
Honestly, who put grass in their shakes? Wheat or otherwise?
I meandered up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
Turns out Linus was not a fan of surprises.
A wraithlike cloak flickered in my vision, overlaying his usual slacks-and-dress-shirt combo, to ripple in a wave of black mist that lapped at my ankles, a frigid pond I had waded into without taking the first step.
Though he had been busily blending since I arrived, his back to me, he was now in my personal space. His nose was an inch from mine. Less. And his icy fingers trapped the wrist of the hand that had touched him.
Ink spilled across his eyes until I was staring into a fathomless pool of still waters that lapped against the shores of my mind, eroding the memories I kept caged until I gasped and stumbled back.
“Linus?” I massaged my wrist, not because he had been rough, but because his glacial touch stung.
Midnight eyes dropped to my hand, and his lips tipped downward. “I hurt you.”
“No,” I rushed out, breathless. “I’m just cold.”
“I’m sorry.” He turned from me and braced his hands on the sink. “You startled me.”
“I let myself in. It was totally my fault.” This time I didn’t take liberties without first alerting him. “Linus?” I rested my hand on his shoulder, and the fabric crunched like frostbitten blades of grass. I forced myself to leave my fingers where they settled instead of jerking back on instinct. That seemed important somehow. “Next time I’ll wait until you answer the door.”
A shudder moved through him, and he covered my hand with his. Gooseflesh coasted down my arms, but I didn’t budge as he turned his head, his fogged breath skating over my skin. “That might be for the best, though you’re always welcome here.” He huffed out a laugh. “It is your house, after all.”
Manners ingrained in me and every other High Society girl since birth breached the surface.
“You’re living here. That makes it your home too.” Home wasn’t the word I’d meant to use, but the quick jerk of his head toward me and the surprise glinting in his eyes—a crisp blue that reminded me of the ocean during storms—made me glad I had misspoken. “You get to make the house rules.”
Linus might have started out as an uninvited guest, but the truth was I liked having him around. Early on, I made no secret of how unhappy I was about the arrangement. The Grande Dame offering hospitality as if Woolly were her home tweaked my tail, but it had been rude of me to take it out on him.
The guy had saved my life when the dybbuk attacked.
As far as I was concerned, I owed him mints on his pillow each dawn.
A sliver of warmth brightened his expression. “I appreciate that.”
“So…” I cleared my throat and took a seat. “What’s on the agenda for the night?”
“Breakfast first.” He returned to the blender, flipped it off, then poured me a tall glass of his concoction and a smaller one for himself. “You still like strawberries?”
“I do.” Chocolate-covered strawberries were one of my favorite treats. “That explains the pink.”
“I researched protein shake recipes. I hoped mixing in the fresh fruit would help with the taste.”
“You stayed up working on this?” He must have made a grocery run while I was sleeping. “I can buy protein shakes at the store, and cans of soup. You don’t have to put yourself out.”
“I don’t mind.” He stabbed bendy straws into our glasses, having realized from our last meal that silverware was part of the illusion, and joined me at the table. “You don’t have to worry about my feelings.” He handed me my breakfast. “Tell me if you don’t like it, and I’ll make something else.”
“Here we go.” I took a hesitant sip and let the smoothie melt on my tongue. “Goddess.”
Linus swirled his straw through his pink drink. “Is invocation this time of night a good thing or a bad thing?”