Tempest’s Fury (Jane True #5)

Tempest’s Fury (Jane True #5) Page 16

“Things aren’t that easy, on the Island. The good guys aren’t too good, and the bad guys aren’t much worse. And we’re here.” Anyan said, even as he realized I was practically jogging. He slowed his pace and took my hand. “Jane, welcome to our first date.”

“Huh?” I asked, totally surprised. I’d been expecting some sort of rebel mission when Anyan had told me to get dressed to go out. I hadn’t realized he meant “go out” as in on a date. I looked down at my long purple cardigan, covering a black T-shirt and leggings, and prayed I was dressed appropriately. Then I looked up. What I saw made my palms damp and squished all concerns regarding appropriate dress under a pile of latex.

“Um, Anyan, that sign says ‘S&M.’ I’m not against a little playtime, but if this is your idea of a first date, what on Earth do you do for the second?”

“While I’m now looking forward to exploring your definition of ‘playtime,’ it stands for Sausages and Mash,” Anyan said, chuckling evilly. “I’m just taking you to dinner, Jane.”

“Oh,” I said, embarrassed. Not least because all I’d had to do was look through the windows to see S&M was a diner, with nary a flogger or bound-human-figure in sight.

Anyan swatted me on my butt as he opened the door. “In you get, little minx.”

I did so, telling the hostess we were two, even as I marveled at the turn of events. From kidnapping to going on a date with Anyan. If my life is anything, it’s never boring.

The hostess showed us to a little table with its booth-seating cut into the corner, which meant we could sit sort of next to each other. The restaurant was shabby, but super hip, built on a base of diner furniture and diner kit that had been all sexed up with lush extras, like odd paintings and beautiful, if slightly random, throw cushions.

The waitress left us with menus after we each ordered a beer.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” I said, still delighted.

“Well, we had to eat. And I figured you needed some downtime after today. I’ll take you swimming tonight too.”

“Thank you,” I said, meaning it.

Anyan looked up from his menu and smiled at me. “Oh, don’t thank me. I’m also being greedy. I wanted some time with you, without the others. Now what are you going to order?”

I blushed, looking down at my menu and trying to focus on the food, which wasn’t hard, because as soon as I saw my choices my stomach started growling. The menu was not fancy at all, with all British classics like fish and chips and pie and chips. But one of my cardinal rules in life is to always order the specialty, which was clearly sausages and mash. And yet, that still left a lot of sausages to choose from. There were the traditional sausages—Cumberland and London traditional. There was also a vegetarian option that looked delicious, mushroom and tarragon. Then there were the specials—bold, very not-American choices like leek and caerphilly, a Welsh cheese, or ale and Bramley apple.

I wanted them all, but I also knew I was being greedy. Then Anyan’s deep voice rumbled from next to me.

“Why don’t I get the three-sausages and mash with the special sausages, and you get the same thing with the traditional ones, and the vegetarian, and we can share?”

At his words, I nearly choked on my emotions. You’re perfect, I thought, even as I said, “Yes, sharing is my favorite.”

The way I saw it, one of the single greatest advantages of being in a relationship was that you got to eat off the other person’s plate. That Anyan might share my view was dizzying.

We ordered when the waitress brought our beers. After she walked away, Anyan and I clinked glasses.

“To our first date,” he said, giving me a sly little wink. I giggled, and we sipped our beers.

“And to not getting kidnapped again. I promise not to drag you anywhere without being more careful,” I said. Anyan clinked my glass again, but shook his head as he did so.

“That was as much my fault as yours, Jane. I was complacent, thinking we’d managed to sneak in without anybody knowing. And I depended on Gog and Hiral, but Hiral’s undependable and I shouldn’t have left Gog without real backup.”

Poor Gog had felt terrible about letting us be captured. When he’d caught up with the rest of us—a little dazed still from having been knocked out with a much larger dose of the same tranquilizer Jack and his gang had used on Anyan and me—he’d acted so guilty I’d had to tell him to shake it off. It wasn’t his fault. He’d been knocked out too.

But I had my doubts about the gwyllion.

“Where do you think Hiral is?” I asked. There’d been no sign of the little creature since Gog was attacked. Gog had seen the gwyllion approach Magog and take her place on the other side of the wide doors. But when Gog had looked again, Hiral was gone. Upon turning to find out why, the cobylnau had felt the dart in his neck.

“Who knows,” Anyan said. “Hiral has his own ways.”

“Can we trust him?” I asked, cutting to the chase.

“Hiral? It depends on what you mean by trust. He’ll steal your wallet and you can’t depend on him to be where he’s supposed to be. But he’d never betray us to Alfar like Jarl and Morrigan.”

I frowned, wanting to protest us putting any faith in someone who had such a flexible definition of “dependable,” but Anyan obviously wasn’t in the mood to talk about Hiral. He was looking at me in the way he did that made me feel I was brand new.

“You were very brave back there,” Anyan said, surprising me.

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, you did. You were cool as a cucumber.”

“I knew they weren’t going to hurt us,” I protested, but Anyan was having none of it.

“Shush,” he said, leaning forward to kiss me into silence. It was a quick peck, but it worked. I was staring hungrily at his mouth as he continued.

“Your instincts have developed. And your reflexes. The water trick was awesome.”

Still staring at his mouth, I smiled. “Thanks, but that was more panic than plan. Jack totally reminded me of Con.”

“I bet. But you probably would have knocked a real ifrit out with that much water. You’d have taken Conleth no problem, were he around today.”

I shrugged, not wanting to talk about Con. Everything Anyan was saying was nice, but it wasn’t what my libido wanted to hear.

What it wanted to hear was that he wanted me. That he needed me. Or that he’d brought handcuffs.

We both fell silent, gazing at each other hungrily when the waitress came over with our meals. Then I switched to gazing at my plate hungrily.

Anyan’s hand found my thigh under the table. He squeezed gently, bringing my attention back to his face.

“We’ll eat, and then I’ll take you swimming,” he promised. “This date’s not over yet.”

My belly did a little flip-flop over the subtle promise in his words.

When I dug into my meal, I wondered if there were any other kinds of sausage in my immediate future.

It made a nice change from worrying about evil beings, possible traitors, and kidnappers.

Anyan shifted me in his lap, obviously not caring I was still soaking wet from my swim. The rough denim of his jeans scraped against my legs, and I again wondered why he was always clothed and I was always naked.

Seems unfair, that, my libido whined, to which even my virtue agreed.

We were sitting on the wooden dock overlooking one of Hampton Heath’s little ponds. Originally manmade clay pits, they’d long since reverted to nature. While the power they gave me wasn’t anywhere near that of the ocean, a nice long swim had still charged me up, especially as I was already so much better at pulling power out of the water-saturated air.

And we were finally, absolutely alone. Even if we were technically in public, the ponds had long since closed and we had a nice strong glamour swirling around us in case anyone had the same hankering for a late night swim that I had.

As if to remind me just how alone we were, Anyan’s fingers were busy stroking down my arms, the side of my neck, from my thighs down from where the sweatshirt I’d used as a towel stopped covering me. His touch spoke of affection and possession, a heady mixture of emotions mirrored in his eyes, which he kept locked on mine.

“I’m getting you all wet,” I murmured, feeling it all was too intense. All I’d had to dry off with was Anyan’s sweatshirt hoodie, and he’d manhandled me into his lap while I was still dripping.

He smiled, and I realized I’d opened myself up for about a hundred wisecracks.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I like you wet and slippery.”

I squirmed. That was Anyan’s superpower, apparently—making me squirm.

The barghest’s nose twitched, and his lips bowed in that little intense moue they did when he was being sexy. I felt his fingertips rove higher, slipping under the sweatshirt to brush across my belly. I wished they’d rove lower, to where I was aching for him.

“Well, you’re an inconsiderate date,” I said, although my voice was a lot rougher than it should have been. “Don’t even bring a girl a towel…”