Tears actually flowed from Ash’s eyes. “Oh, this is precious. What are you, five hundred years old? Six?”
I pocketed the phone distastefully and took the cash Sebastian offered for good measure. “I was born of a stone seed in 1379.”
Ash did a quick calculation in her head. “Okay, so five to six hundred years old sans rounding. You?” she directed the same question at Sebastian.
He shrugged. “Give or take.”
I knew he expected her to answer in kind, but I wasn’t quite so naive. “I’m sure you don’t want to spend the night in an alley. Can we go somewhere nicer to clear the air that is less…pressure on you?” I held out a hand, willing myself not to raise it to touch the lips that had grazed mine, the craving to contact the place where she had kissed me too great a temptation to ignore.
My slumber had crept on me almost immediately, heavy and hours overdue. But that light touch of skin on stone ripped through my psyche, tearing me out of my sleep. I strove not to flinch as she laid her lips on mine in the barest contact, then stepped away. But my mouth burned with need and it had taken everything in me not to wrap my hand around her throat and haul her back to me, crush our mouths together and find out what she tasted like with my stone tongue.
A part of me still did crave that twisted need.
I was so lost in the memory, my hours old fantasy, that I nearly missed her answer.
“There’s a coffee house a few blocks away. It’ll be busy, but it’s not stressful. Why don’t we have dinner and coffee there and you can…tell me who you think I am and exactly what you think I’ve done?” She cast a curious glance in Sebastian’s direction, then curled her fingers through my hand in the clearest statement she could make.
And I was here for every moment of her sass.
The quaint coffee house Ash picked out was squashed between a nightclub and a mechanic’s workshop that Sebastian explained to me. Both businesses looked like they had existed for at least as long as the other in utter disgust of the neighbor that should never have been. One was covered in grease and oil, the other all flowy curtains and spicy scents.
“Turkish?” I murmured, lacing my fingers through Ash’s, careful not to hurt her.
Black velvet draped her from neckline to toes, covering her sandaled feet, except for a strip of translucent soft mesh across her middle, baring her stomach and lower back to me. The effect was seductive as she sashayed her way along the street. Standing next to her tiny frame, I became all too aware of how small her body was next to mine. My fingers spread hers wide apart. I closed my hand slowly, giving her the chance to pull away.
My Steorra flexed in my grip then folded her fingers tight against mine. One of those soft sighs I didn't think she knew she made slipped from her lips. “A strange mix of scents and spices and languages, this place,” she admitted, leaning slightly into my side as we walked. Sebastian made a huffing sound behind us that I ignored. I would wear his poor humor later. “Creole, French, American…and others. We all exist here together. Accepted,” she said, looking down at our joined hands.
Her golden skin wound around my slightly paler version, now that my stone patterns had faded. Her thumb brushed the caved marks on my wrist.
“I was born that way,” I murmured, all too aware of Sebastian loitering behind us.
“And your friend?”
My grip flexed around her hand. “He was…created. Not his choice. Or at least, he didn't quite understand the choice at the time. But that’s not my story to tell,” I murmured.
Ash fell silent as the vampire in question dropped back a dozen paces, his footfalls fading as we approached the small coffee shop. “He has some good manners, doesn't he?”
“On occasion.” I held the door for her, and she smiled at me.
“You have some, as well.”
“I suspect you come from a time when etiquette was crucial, though a lot older than either of us.” I inhaled the scent of her, pure starlight, as she walked beneath my arm.
Ash’s eyes fluttered shut as she stood in the doorway of the coffee shop. Her hand untangled from mine and I let her go, still holding the door, bemused. This side of her was something I hadn’t seen before as she seemed to absorb the ambience, the heat and warmth and energy of the overcrowded coffee shop.
For just a moment, it was as though the only person in the place was her, the scents tangible as they flowed around her like visible golden threads of spice drawn into her soul.
Then the slipped out of my hand, clanging shut and the moment broke.
“Thanks,” Sebastian said dryly, pushing his way inside as I guided Ash toward a table an attendant motioned us toward, menus wielded like a shield against the thrum of conversation that once again filled the small space. Fragments of words bounced from wall to decorated wall, shattering and reforming in an epitome of fragrant white noise.
“I thought crowds bothered you.” I settled on a large floor pillow, folding my legs beneath me. Ash curled at my side, apparently perfectly comfortable at ground level. Her black velvet skirt formed a circle around her, though her toes peeked out as she slipped her sandals off and tipped her head back, once again lost in her personal show of bliss.
And took me along with her for the ride.
I trailed my hand down her spine, pleased when she neither flinched nor pushed me away. “What do you recommend?”
“The apple tea. Iced,” she replied promptly with her eyes still shut. “And the spiced scones. Though your friend may have other tastes?” I waved a hand to pass her order on to the staff as Ash opened one wary eye, wrinkling her nose when several shawls obscured our vision of the table. “Don’t you have a bar to tend?”
