Bay flies us over to a restaurant I’ve never been to before.
“Sparks and Stones,” I say, reading the sign.
“There’s a ring in every cup of their Sparked Champagne. Don’t worry. We’ll have some. I have a collection of their rings. This place is off the wing good.” She laughs.
The host smiles as we fly in. “Bay, welcome. Your date is already—Who is this lovely vision?”
“My twin. She’ll be joining us for dinner. I trust that won’t be an issue?”
“No, no, of course not. Zoth did mention someone would be coming along. I just didn’t realize she—You are lovely, just lovely.” He holds out his hand.
I give him mine, expecting him to shake it, only he brings it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. Flustered, I say, “I bet you say that to all of the ladies.”
“Call them beautiful, exquisite, the like, yes, but lovely, that is reserved for you.”
Bay shakes her head and loudly whispers, “You told me I was lovely when I first came here.”
“Now, you’re twins, aren’t you? So it only stands to reason that if one twin is lovely, so is the other, right?” He grins. “If you’ll allow me—”
"I know the way. My twin here is unavailable, but I'm sure that eventually, your flirting with every patron who enters will one day pay off."
I giggle as Bay leads the way to the back corner. Illuminated candles float in the air, giving the room a peaceful glow. A faint mist covers the legs of the tables and chairs, all of the furniture almost appearing to be on silts.
The table Zoth sits at is clearly meant for two, but another chair has been brought over. Bay makes a beeline for him and kisses him on the cheek. He eyes me as he yanks her back to him, pushes against the back of her head, and kisses her soundly, the kind of kiss meant for behind closed doors.
Refusing to feel out of place, I don’t dare break eye contact first, but that just makes him place his other hand on her ass, gripping it firmly, possessively.
Thankfully, the waitress comes over then, and Bay breaks away, giggling.
It’s awkward, very awkward. Zoth cracks joke after joke, but each one is darker and more twisted than the previous one. Bay laughs as if he’s a comedic genius.
Everything about him is dark—his humor, his eyes, his clothes.
His soul.
He's a true demon, that's for sure. I hadn't been around Zoth long the first time, and I didn't take much notice of him aside from his dark features. With everything after Thistle, I just needed to get away off campus more than anything.
To compare him to Damon is crazy. Damon isn’t anything at all like Zoth. Zoth just emits darkness, and while Damon will do crazy things, Damon doesn’t embrace being dark. He’s fun and hot and up for anything. Zoth… I don’t want to know what he’s up for.
As dinner drags on, I say less and less, just watching them interact. Bay clearly adores him. In fact, it’s obvious that she loves him.
After dinner, Zoth asks Bay to come back to his place. She barely even says goodbye to me before they’re flying off, and that’s when I realize something I hadn’t until now.
I’m afraid.
Afraid for Bay.
Not that I’m losing her.
But that Zoth is using her.
Chapter 11
The next day, I’m fluttering from Nature to Telepathy when Sage darts over to my side and shoves a honey cake into my hand.
“It’s not much, but a small snack might help,” he says.
“You’re so sweet.” I take a quick bite. “This is sweeter, though. Perfection. Thank you.”
“Anything for you.”
I pause and eye him eagerly. “Anything?”
He looks at me suspiciously. “Why do I feel as if I should retract my words?” he jokes.
“I need your help.”
“With…”
“I want to look into Zoth.”
“Zoth? Who’s that?”
“Bay’s boyfriend.”
Sage rubs the back of his neck. “Why do you want to look into him? Why not just ask her about him?”
I blow out a breath. “I don’t trust him. For that matter, I don’t trust her to be objective when it comes to him.”
“Zoth,” Sage repeats again in a low voice. “I don’t know that name. Does he go here?”
“Ah, no.”
“Zoth doesn’t sound like a fairy name,” he says, his tone now as suspicious as his facial expression.
“Zoth is… Her boyfriend’s a demon,” I admit.
“Your sister is dating a demon?” he asks.
“If you’re not surprised,” I start, but he’s shaking his head.
“I don’t want you to hang around more demons,” he says. “I’ll do it myself.”
“Excuse me?” I ask even though I heard him perfectly. “That’s not what I want. That’s not what I asked!”
“Clearly, you’re worried about this guy, and you should be. Demons are dangerous and—”
“Hate is a strong word, but, Sage, frankly, I hate it when you try to control me.”
“I’m not trying to control you,” he protests.
"Then what do you call it?" I demand, crossing my arms. At this point, I'm already going to be late for class. What's the harm in being a few more minutes late? If this turns ugly, I can always just use the class as an excuse to duck away from this conflict.
“Protecting you.” He sounds incredulous and shocked, as if I should’ve already known this.
“Here’s the thing. I don’t need you to protect me.”
“Rosemary—”
“I don’t need you to be overly protective!”
“Don’t I?” he asks quietly. “You mean so much to me, and I care about you, but you can’t deny it.”
“Deny what?” I snap.
“That the past two years, you’ve put yourself in danger. First with Spring, a fairy who used her fist to bust a car, didn’t she? And then Thistle, he killed people to get close to you, and then he turned on you!”
“And I handled myself just
