Page 59 of Demon's Beauty

The answer is staring me right in the face.

Golden-haired and crimson-eyed, gaze tracing over me like he’d have no problem tossingprofessionalismright out the window.

I’m only this way since Finn, apparently. Since the Goddess took it into her head to match the two of us together.

But that doesn’t mean I need to push it.

It doesn’t mean I need to rush into anything, and as I slide off Finn’s lap and circle back behind him to give him one last look—as ahealer, of course—I mentally toss a bucket of cold water over my head.

“Your burns look good,” I tell him, putting on my most neutral, imperial Crescent witch voice. “A couple more applications of salve, maybe a little more healing tomorrow, and you should be set.”

He stands and stretches his wings.

Probably just because they were stiff from being tucked in while I examined them.

Definitely not because he’s trying to impress me.

And I’m not impressed, I’m absolutely not, even while I watch them expand to their full width, while my wide eyes trace the impressive mechanics of them, their graceful sweep, all the power they hold.

“Thank you for your expert care, Healer Soleil,” he says as he tucks them back in and turns to face me. “Shall we return to camp?”

Suppressing a giggle at the formality in his tone, I give him a sage nod and fall into step beside him on the path.

While we walk, he asks about my day. I tell him about the work we did to map the stellarin patches, the plans we have to go back tonight and start harvesting. He’s entirely engrossed, listening carefully and asking a ton of insightful questions about our methodology, apparently not bored in the slightest to hear me drone on about the intricacies of the process.

The conversation takes us all the way back to camp and through supper, where we sit next to each other at the fire and continue talking softly while everyone around us is occupied in their own dinner conversations.

The topic meanders from the stellarin blooms to Ariana’s grimoire—the work I ostensibly came to this realm to tackle—and even into some of the work I was occupied with back in the human realm.

None of the details seem to bore him. Even the technical stuff about my dreamsbane potion and the breakthrough I made in the brewing procedures, the minutiae of it all, he seems to absorb everything.

It has me feeling all warm and floaty as we pack up after dinner so we can head back up the mountain to gather blooms.

Finn gets ready to come, too, and I don’t try to talk him out of it.

He’s on duty as a guard, and if I’ve asked him to respect my judgment and capability as a healer, the same goes for him knowing his own limits.

Besides, after last night and the lingering anxiety of it all, I don’t blame him for wanting to come.

The drakons stay away tonight, though, and we get dozens of blooms to process tomorrow. It’s an incredibly successful night, all things considered, and enough to have me breathing easy as we descend back to camp around two or three in the morning.

In the center of camp, the fire still burns low, throwing all the handsome angles of Finn’s face into golden relief as we stand between two tents. One is mine, and he nods to where his sits on the opposite side of the clearing.

“I should probably go get some rest,” he says, though he makes no move to leave.

“Yeah, me too.” I stay right where I am.

This isn’t a date. We’re not on the doorstep of one of our houses, waiting to say goodnight, but the feeling is exactly the same as we linger and look at each other, as magick shimmers between us.

“There’s plenty of room in mine for two, you know,” he says, and I laugh.

“Incorrigible. Just like I thought.”

“You said you weren’t going to tell me,” he murmurs, and I feel a gentle pressure at my waist.

His tail.

Pulling me toward him in a hold light enough that I could easily step away if I wanted.