Page 28 of Fangs with Benefits

‘Don’t you know you’re supposed to drink like three litres of water a day?’ I ask, aiming for joking, but obviously falling a mile short based on the blank look he gives me. ‘Kidding. Well, not kidding about the water, that’s true, but you can get your hydration however you want.’

Stupid, stupid, stupid, I chide myself. I had thought we were approaching joking territory after chatting amicably about monsterfucker romance this afternoon, but apparently that was not the case.

‘No, it’s…’ Elijah coughs to clear his throat. ‘Never mind. I’ve been on a diet.’

‘Sure, that’s cool.’ I avoid his gaze by looking down at the bar. ‘Was just a joke because, like, I’ve never seen you eat or drink anything else.’

He says nothing, so I take that as my sign to keep babbling on.

‘But whatever you’re doing must be working for you because, as Kenneth loves to point out, you’re kind of jacked.’ I look pointedly at his biceps and shoulders, which stretch the fabric of his button-up, not in a way that seems intentional, but like no shirt could really hide the muscles beneath. ‘And your skin is insanely smooth; better than Devi’s, even, and she has a skincare routine I wouldn’t wish on anyone.’

I peer up at his face now, and he searches my eyes, concern so clear in his. God, he thinks I’m a freak, and probably fears I’m into him. He’s worried about my sanity–great, great. The strangest man I’ve ever known now thinks that I’m horny for him. Cool.

I slump my shoulders, which only brings me nearer to him, our faces concerningly close together now. Concerning because, this close, I can smell him, and he smells like cinnamon. And concerning because my gaze falls for a split-second to his mouth, but that was a split-second too long, because now I’m embarrassed and imagining what his lips would feel like.

Get a fucking grip, Molly, this man is your enemy! The bane of your corporate existence!

In fact, am I drunk right now? I must be drunk.

‘I’m going to stop talking,’ I murmur, my voice quiet, but I don’t worry that he won’t hear me. Not when he’s looking at me like I am confounding and compelling and the noisy bar around us is nothing. So close that I see in perfect clarity when his own brown eyes shoot down to my lips, locking there for longer than I allowed myself. ‘Elijah?’ I whisper when the weight of his silent attention is too much to bear.

Someone bumps into my back, jostling me and startling us both. The man who bumped me apologises and by the time I’ve told him it’s okay, Elijah is off his stool and sliding his arms into his suit coat.

‘Leaving already?’ Kenneth calls to Elijah. ‘Molly, what did you say?’

I flip Kenneth off, which makes him tip his head back with a laugh, and the startled expression has been wiped from Elijah’s face, replaced instead with his usual friendly, open look.

‘Gotta feed my cat,’ Elijah explains. From the big pocket of his coat, Elijah retrieves his baseball cap and pulls it on. I feel off balance, like maybe I really am drunker than I thought. Maybe I imagined the weirdness between us, the tense moment, the whole staring at my mouth bit.

The department calls out various good nights to him, and he smiles and nods in turn.

‘Night,’ I murmur, and Elijah gives me one more heavy look. I’m not making it up, I’m sure of it.

‘Goodnight, Molly,’ he says. And then he’s gone, striding out of the bar quickly, not looking over his shoulder as he does. When he’s fully retreated from view of the windows, I turn to Devi, who is already looking at me with her eyebrows halfway to her hairline.

‘What happened?’ she mouths. I shrug and drop my hands into my lap. Because, really, what the hell did just happen?

Chapter 10

Elijah

She knows.

I don’t know if Molly is just otherworldly perceptive or if I’ve been glaringly obvious, but Molly knows something. And if she doesn’t, I’m sure she’s not far from sniffing it out.

My heart doesn’t beat, but if it did, it would have absolutely stopped upon hearing her ask about my dietary habits and skincare routine. Reasonably, I understand the questions were innocuous enough, but what I eat is one of the least human things about me, followed closely by the preternatural smoothness of my skin.

I believed she would never notice. I foolishly thought no one would question my eating or drinking habits ever and we could all pretend indefinitely that I was just like the rest of them.

I hate to say that Gregory was right about anything at all, but perhaps he was right that my affinity and fascination with humanity would come back to bite me again and again. It hasn’t even been a month at Drummond, just a few short weeks, and already I have to move on to something else?

Because surely, if there’s a risk of Molly figuring me out, I cannot stay.

Right?

I’ve lasted longer here than I did at the bar (three shifts), the bookstore (one shift), or the train station (one week, but only because I didn’t care for it). I don’t want to quit Drummond–I’ve grown fond of the basement and the eclectic mix of personalities that make up the IT department.

But Molly is perceptive and, if I stay, she will find me out eventually. She’ll learn that not only am I not worth my weight when it comes to technology, I’m also technically dead. Or undead. And if she finds this out, I won’t be safe, but more importantly, she will not be safe.