He had spent several hours looking for Rika, checking all of her usual hideaways, but had been forced to admit defeat. She’d never been this angry with him, and he could admit—quietly, to himself—that he would be angry if he were in her position. Of course, he manipulated people and faeries as easily as he breathed, so he wouldn’t end up in her position. Still, he could allow that she had grounds for her ire. He’d simply wait for her to calm down and return, and while he waited, he’d enjoy a date with the mortal girl . . . and try to ignore his injuries. Carissa was, like so many young mortal women, full of dreams and passions. It’s why faeries found them so alluring. Something about the impermanence of mortals seemed to make them crave living intensely. Things that would pass in a blink for those who lived for centuries were urgent to mortals. It was beautiful. As Carissa and Sionnach walked toward the tiny diner he liked, he offered her his arm. He tried to move slower with her, careful in his movements so he didn’t slip and reveal his Otherness.
