Page 12 of The Fake Divination Offense
“Like you personally cleaned out the Silver Hound’s supply of champagne.”
“Awesome.”
“Then started on their tequila, at which point I remembered even half-giant metabolisms have limits with alcohol, and reeled you back. You’re welcome.”
Thio slides something across the island to me. “On that note, drink this.”
I look down at what seems to be a cup of coffee, but by the empty potion vial Thio’s sliding into his jeans pocket, I know it’s got some kind of magic in it.
It might not be Thio’s job to actively create new spells the way Seb does at his lab, but the two of them still experiment on shit together and consider it date night. They’ve made a lot of powerful healing potions that way.
Whatever Thio gave me, I gratefully accept it, cradling both hands around the coffee and inhaling.
I stiffen, andgods, my stomach clenches for an entirely new reason. “Fuck.”
“You okay?” Seb asks.
I drop my head into my hands. “You spent the night of your engagementandlawsuit celebration taking care of my sorry drunk ass.”
Something whacks me on the head.
I look up to see Seb wielding the spatula like a flyswatter. Am I the bug?
All the fixtures in my apartment were designed for my lineage, so everything’s atouchhigher or wider than average. Which means Seb has to lift himself onto the edge of the island and strain rather far to reach me over it. That’s some serious commitment to rebuking me.
“Yourcelebration, too,” he says and drops back down. “Thio and I got to spend the night in your cushy guestroom. Have youseenthat bathroom? It’s bonkers. Way nicer than the stall at our place and what we’ve come to call mandatory polar plunge showers.”
I didn’t know his apartment’s water heater was shitty? He’s never mentioned it. But I make a mental note to call his landlord and get estimates for a replacement.
Discreetly, of course.
Seb and Thio wouldn’t let me buy them a place in my building, so they’ll have to put up with my stealth remodeling.
“So, in a way,” Seb continues, “you gave us a luxury getaway as an engagement present. Because you’re thoughtful like that.”
“If this is a luxury engagement getaway,” I say, eyeing the pancakes, “shouldn’t I be the one making you guys breakfast?”
“You forget I had a front-row seat to your cooking for many years. I’d like to survive to my wedding, thanks.”
Thio hip-checks Seb out of the way and takes over pancake duty. “On that note, baby, you’re burning them.”
“Fuck you, I am not.”
Thio flips one that does indeed look a bit charcoaled. “Burnt.”
“Crispy.”
They stare at each other, and I swear to the gods, how are they getting aroused frompancakes?
I take a gulp of the coffee, letting it scald its way down my throat. I didn’t tease them last night either about the nuclear-fallout levels of sexual chemistry they’re always emitting. Why?
My chest twinges and I rub at it, suddenly hit by a ghost of apples, the brush of soft lips on my cheek, the flash of pink-gold glitter over a dimpled smile.
Did Alexo get home? Is that guy staying away from him? There’s no way I can check.
And I wouldn’t, if I could. Because he’s notmineto check up on.
I keep rubbing my chest until Seb and Thio finish whatever edging standoff they’ve got going on.
