Page 68 of Blood of a Huntsman

Cat wrinkled her nose. "Why go all the way there?"

"Because Adairford is pathetic and I want to take you on a decent date."

He did?

She froze, and blinked.

Catherine had never actually gone on a date.

"That's probably a terrible idea."

"I know, but we're still doing it. I'll make reservations and text you the time later."

He was taking charge, and she wasn't sure she disliked that, dammit. Cat was completely out of her depth. She blamed the many orgasms for her lack of wit and discernment. They'd short-circuited her brain or something.

"I don't know. There's a potential attack from my family, and the Beauforts, and that queen. It doesn't feel like the right time for a date."

"I was a huntsman. My parents were huntsmen too. There was always a crisis—a rogue, shifter, demon, vampire, or necromancer. A witch sacrificing babies somewhere. And yet every Tuesday night, they went out on a date, pretending the world wasn't on fire around them. Dad used to say it was their sanity day. All the anxiety, the anticipation, the hunt can consume our lives if we let it. So I say lunch, and sex, and chilling occasionally are all brilliant ideas."

Sebastian made a good case.

"I stopped living after being bitten. Stopped fighting. And I was miserable. If I am going to survive hundreds of years, I'd rather make it a fun ride."

"Carpe diem," she whispered.

"Way to summarize an eloquent speech with an overused idiom, Stormhale."

"Well, if the shoe fits." She polished off her plate and stretched out on her bed. "But fine. I'll free up tomorrow afternoon."

"Good girl." He leaned forward, pressing his lips on hers in an unexpected and gentle kiss that made her feel as unsettled as when he’d played her pussy with his tongue.

Damn him. What was he doing to her?

"I have to get changed. Catch you for patrol, pretty girl."

"I'm no girl, Sebastian."

"No? You didn't mind my calling you that yesterday. And for heaven's sake, my name is Bash."

"I like Sebastian," she replied stubbornly. "It suits you."

"Have you been talking to my sister? She's the only other person who persists on using my full name."

Cat laughed. "A woman of great taste. And you call me Catherine, anyway, so we're even. Now go get some clothes on. I have stuff to do."

And if he remained naked here, she wasn't going to do them. She devoured him with her eyes, appreciating every delightful muscle, the way his arms flexed as he walked away.

Come to think of it, her to-do list wasn't that full right now.

"Wait."

He turned back to her, one eyebrow raised. She flipped the bedsheet off her naked frame.

"Well, I do have a couple of hours to kill. No one said I had to start designing now."

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