Wicked (A Wicked Saga, #1)(96)

"No. Not stupid." Scooting forward, I placed my hands on the sides of his face, the slight stubble tickling my palms. "It sounds brilliant." He turned, pressing a kiss against the palm of my hand and then the other. "You still up for it?"

"Most definitely."

"And if you make breakfast and save a little bit for Tink, he'd be really forthcoming with any information," I advised him.

Ren tilted his head against my palm, rubbing back and forth. Part of me was still worried over how Ren truly felt about Tink, but I did trust him to not say anything, and I could only hope that if Ren . . . if he stuck around, he would grow to accept Tink, maybe even like him. The latter was a long shot, but he was handling this better than I expected, and for that I was grateful.

"Let's do this then."

I let him pull me out of the chair, and still holding on to my hand, he guided me toward the hall. As I followed him, an unexpected cold chill snaked down my spine. Looking back into the bedroom at the rumpled bed and clothing strewn across the floor, all I could hope was that today wouldn't be my last happy day, that I'd have many more.

That I would have a tomorrow and so would Ren.





Chapter Twenty One





Surprisingly, Ren made breakfast and the three of us managed to eat the fluffy omelets without him trying to kill Tink once, and I was kind of amazed by that. Tink had answered Ren's questions about the gates and what the brownies had been doing in the Otherworld, but Ren didn't push beyond that. I could tell that he wanted to, but for some reason, he held back.

After we showered—separately, because it would've been weird at that moment knowing that Tink was fully aware of what Ren and I had done last night . . . and this morning—Ren and I spent the better part of the day along the Mississippi, doing the tourist thing. I skipped classes again, knowing that I'd pay hell when it came to catching up, but I was doing the whole here and now thing. I wasn't going to stress about it.

Although it wasn't the first time I'd ever been on a date, it was sweet and fun and so different to me that it did feel like I'd never done this before. Through idle chatter, Ren discovered that Tink was a baker and the reason for my late night trips in search of beignets.

"You really do care about him," he said, sounding stunned.

It struck me then how much I did, and I should've realized that when I hadn't turned him into a shish kabob when I found out he hadn't been upfront with me. Or when I'd laid out a thinly veiled threat that I would protect Tink.

The day passed by too fast, and when it came time for us to get ready for the night, we parted ways just as the storm clouds were starting to roll in again. Moments after I hailed a cab, he hauled me up against his chest and kissed me deeply, soundly, on the curb of Canal Street, and that kiss was like waking up in the sun. I was hot and bothered the whole ride back to my apartment.

Getting dressed for the night felt strange. As I buttoned up a worn pair of tactical pants, it felt surreal putting them on. The same when I strapped the thorn dagger to the inside of my forearm and tugged the sleeve of my lightweight shirt down, covering it. When it came to everything with Ren, I was most definitely still floating underwater, but I wasn't alone. Ren was with me. I never thought I'd have a day like today. That I'd get to experience that kind of bliss enabled by companionship that only came from being with someone that you cherished and cherished you in return. And being with Ren? Yeah, I did feel precious, and after Shaun I honestly hadn't believed I'd feel that way again.

Or that I deserved to experience that kind of wealth.

But today was like taking the first deep breath of spring. All the simple things we shared today were priceless. I . . . I lived, really lived, for the first time in almost four years.

Staring at my reflection, I didn't let my mind wander too far into the future. I was taking this literally one minute at a time. I tugged my curls up, twisting the long lengths into a bun I secured with bobby pins.

Thunder rumbled off in the distance, and I inhaled deeply, letting my breath out slowly. I was ready for tonight.

"Don't go."

I started at the sound of Tink's voice. He was hovering in the open bathroom door. "What?"

"Don't go tonight," he repeated.

A frown pulled at my lips. "I have to go. It's my—"

"I know it's your job, but just . . . don't go. You don't need to be there," he insisted. "You don't have to be there."

Unease curled in my chest like a snake. Tink had never asked me to not head out and hunt—never once. Tonight was different though. We wouldn't be hunting fae. I knew they'd be coming right at us.

I shook my head. "I have to, Tink. It's my job. You know that."

He looked as if he was going to say something else, but he snapped his jaw shut and his wings drooped as I stepped around him. He followed me to the front door, saying nothing while I picked up my keys and cellphone.

Tink landed on the chair normally stacked with Amazon boxes and clutched the back of it. "Ivy?"

"Yeah?"

His pale blue eyes were wide and solemn. "Please be careful, because there . . . there are worse things than death if that gate opens."

~

Tink's parting words haunted me as I made my way to Royal Street. Not exactly the thing I wanted to be thinking about as I dodged tourists caught in the rain and nearly lost an eyeball a couple of times when the sharp pointy ends of the umbrellas got up close and personal.