The Devoted: A Reverse Harem Omnibus (The Devoted Season Book 1)(15)

“It’s automated,” Sebastian tells me, slipping inside. He waves an arm outside, “See?”

The door begins wheezing closed and I slap my hands on my face, “Sebastian!”

His rolling laughter stops my heart cold, “You don’t have these in Tulsdale?”

The door snaps back open. “No!” I snap, “Not without some sort of magic!”

Another laugh, “No magic here. Just ingenuity. Come on,” and he disappears.

I tiptoe past the threshold. The door whooshes and I throw myself inside the establishment.

Checkerboard floors meet me. Low conversation mixes with the sharp scent of cinnamon on vanilla. The place is dimly lit, save for a few windows that let in the sun and the shadows of the shopping crowd outside. Black and white booths line the walls, hanging lamplights dangling over every checkerboard table. I scan for Sebastian and find him sitting close to the back of the restaurant, toward the kitchen. He throws up a hand and waves.

“You could have waited for me,” I grumble as I slide into the booth across from him.

“I brought a friend from Bathan here once,” he chuckles, elbow on the table as he gesticulates with his hand, “she nearly had a heart attack seeing the door fly open like that. Stood there for an hour waiting for her to figure out there wasn’t some warlock living in the place’s doors.”

Bathan is a desert nation that’s flooded yearly by a massive river. It’s rumored that magic is a well-kept secret there. While I’ve never met anyone from Bathan, dad has told me of how the people sneer at the thought of using magic to do even menial tasks like cooking and cleaning.

“Are there any Bathanians among the first years?” I find myself asking, “Was your friend...”

I cut myself off as a waitress approaches. Sebastian smiles up at a woman with bangs so straight I’m sure they’ve given the bridge of her nose a few swift slices from time to time. She rubs her black bangs from her face and blinks thick black eyelashes as she stretches her lips into a taut grin, “Sebastian and guest,” the moment she clicks her pen, two menus emerge from the heart of the table through a thin slit I hadn’t noticed before. I follow Sebastian and hold my hand out for one. Don’t scream, don’t scream. The slick menu slides between my hands and settles there.

“I know what you’re thinking, right?” the waitress shoots a knowing look at Sebastian, then brings her gaze to me, “So cool, huh?” she huffs a snort, “Seb here likes to bring non-natives all the time. It’s like he’s proud of this old place,”

“Damn, Nikki,” Sebastian snaps his fingers, smirking up at her, “you caught me. Saw right through me.” He leans toward me, “She’s right, you know,”

“Damn right, I’m right,” Nikki flashes a toothy smile, “So, what can I get ya’ll?” she leans toward me conspiratorially, “Our blueberry pancakes are the bomb, hun,” her manicured nail slides down my menu and points at a watercolor picture of pancakes stuffed with blueberries, “wouldn’t even take that long to make. Cook back there always has some on standby,”

I shrug, “Why not?” I’ve been cooking for myself for as long as I can remember, so I’ve got a pretty bland palate. I’ve never had pancakes stuffed with anything except undercooked batter.

“Same,” Sebastian says. He swipes my menu and gives them both to Nikki, “Maybe some coffee?”

“Aw, hun,” Nikki plants her hand on her waist, “you know we don’t have any.”

“Always worth a try.”

She clicks her tongue, “Trust me, it ain’t,” then sashays away while I conceal a chuckle.

The slap of her shoes stops, then ramps up as she returns to the table, “Almost forgot to ask, how’s your Da? With you at school and all, I figured...” she lets her words trail off. For a moment, her gaze flicks to me.

A secret. Cool, I get it.

Sebastian’s eyes go blank, “Eh,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I guess I’ll find out tonight,”

“Let me know the details, hun. Cook’ll keep sending food, but only if he actually eats it.” Nikki smirks, then leaves. Disappearing into the kitchen behind us.

Sebastian lounges into the seat, letting out a sigh in the process. “I’ve been coming here since I was a kid,” he says to no one in particular, “Me and my dad.”

I’m not sure how to respond. I clasp my hands in my lap and search his face for some sort of hint. He’s good-looking—I’ll give him that. With that flaming hair and devil-may-care smirk that’s always only a lip twitch away. I suppose I could call him handsome. Charming, even. My face burns at that fact.

Why would a guy like him want to hang out with a girl like me?

Sebastian catches me gazing at him, like a doe in a hunter’s firelight. That sideways smile returns and he winks at me. I turn away and cross my arms.

“Hope this makes up for the trouble I caused you,”

I want to joke around, but the grayness of his voice tells me that something is wrong. He avoids my gaze like he doesn’t want to be here anymore.

“We can take it to go,” I tell him, “I’ve got to rest up for tonight anyway. You know, night watch,”

Sebastian murmurs, “Oh,” and stares right at me. The clarity of his stare makes it seem like he’s only just noticing that I’m still here, “You want another apology pancake?”