Page 12 of Wicked Flavors

“Of course,” he said with a self-satisfied smirk.

With the uneasy feeling still rolling through her, Gwendolyn gathered every ounce of her stubbornness and used it to close the distance between them. She wasn’t sure how long she was supposed to kiss him, and Gwendolyn refused to look at him during the exchange. Since he had never said anything about the length of time, Gwendolyn thought a quick peck would suffice.

She was genuinely surprised when her lips didn’t burn from another shock of static. There wasn’t pain here, but the unforeseen gentleness of his mouth. Gwendolyn applied the proper amount of pressure, doing her best to stay long enough to be satisfactory. The last thing she wanted was to be tricked into kissing him again.

At least he isn’t kissing back,she thought.

That had been a mistake. Without realizing it, Gwendolyn had parted her mouth to sigh in relief. An unintended invitation as the man’s tongue swept past her lips and gathered in her mouth. Gwendolyn let out a sound, muffled by the muscular organ that licked a hot trail up the center of her own tongue. He may have been awful, but the horrible man knew how to kiss. The thoughtfrustrated Gwendolyn, then made her quiver as he continued to lick inside her mouth.

The sensation caused her eyes to flutter, and for a moment, Gwendolyn felt her insides twist. Not in the rare flare of arousal, but alarm. Between her lashes, Gwendolyn could see a portion of the man’s face. Blue and green—something glowing where the man’s eye should have been. Gwendolyn wasn’t sure what she was seeing at first, vision too blurred from how close it was to her. Her gut told her if she were to look away something very bad would happen, but that made even less sense than the strange orb.

It left her unguarded as pointed edges of sharp teeth nicked her bottom lip. Gwendolyn flinched, her own teeth cutting the tongue that had been leisurely exploring her own. The taste of iron bloomed, mixing between them. Gwendolyn yanked herself back. She didn’t whine so much as wince as the man’s tongue slithered from the cavern of her mouth, lapping across her injury on its way out.

“Ow,” she complained, reaching her fingers toward her bottom lip. “You—”

“You can call me Ambrosius,” the man said before his tongue made a slow swipe in front of his teeth. “Ambrose, if you’re pressed for time. And I believe your end of the bargain has been fulfilled. Let’s get you on your way, you’re a very busy woman, I’m sure.”

The doll in question was removed from the shelf. Gwendolyn followed him toward a register that she didn’t remember seeing upon entering. She was silent as he gift wrapped the doll and placed it within a paper bag. Before Gwendolyn could voice half of her troubled thoughts—all of them concerning him—Ambrosius handed her the bag from across the counter.

“Congratulations, Ms. Gooch, you are now the temporary owner of Lot 145,” he said with a smile, as if hehadn’t just had his tongue down her throat. “Oh, one more thing, before I forget. When it comes to items in this shop, there are a few rules. No refunds, no exchanges, no exceptions.”

His wording made her pause, but he didn’t give her time to process that bit of information either.

“I’ll see you before the week is out,” he nodded, a clear dismissal.

“Thank you? I…” Gwendolyn fumbled, before letting it go.

Whatever that had been, it didn’t matter now. Gwendolyn had her doll, just like she wanted. Better to cut and run, than stay for any more of his weird behavior. She hurried toward the door and felt relief when the door handle was just within her reach.

“Oh, and Gwendolyn?”

She froze, turning just enough to catch his profile near the register. “Yes?”

“Thank you so much for your…” his eyes trailed her form once again. “Patronage.”

5

Optimism

Ambrosius

She had ran.

It wasn’t that surprising, most of his customers ran toward the end. Oddly, not a lot of them could endure being near him for very long, despite his impeccable hosting. Ambrosius would be insulted if he didn’t take so much pleasure in watching them scurry away. Antiques clutched in their hands, hearts beating wildly with every quickening foot fall. Enticing him to give chase.

Ambrosius did relish in the torment of not being able to follow. It was a deliciously frustrating feeling.

Still, it had been mildly disappointing that his latest guest hadn’t lingered. He so wanted to get to know her better. Though, even he would be the first to admit that the business transaction had gotten a little out of hand.

When she had first approached the Antiquarium with trepidation, he had known that shealready had an item in mind. The thought had been so loud that Ambrosius could see the silhouette before she had spoken. It was a skill he had, the ability to read others to some extent. Knowing what a client was looking for made for a smoother sale and better customer satisfaction. While it wasn’t without some miscalculations—there was always a chance for error—Ambrosius was more right than wrong. Either the customer would find the right item or the item would find the customer.

That didn’t mean every client knew what they wanted. Sometimes they needed a little more …guidance.A customer who came in by chance would usually take a little more time to make a decision. In instances like those, Ambrosius would pull his deck. His ‘parlor trick’ might have appeared as such to his customer, but it was just the right amount of push to get them to the item they desired.

That was usually how it went for him, day in and day out. A never-ending rotating supply of objects passing from hand to hand, for as long as he could remember. A simple exchange of money, another satisfied customer, and back to the normal shop upkeep.

But there were only so many times he could be bothered with rearranging the interior of the antique store. That grewboringafter the seven thousandth time.

Until today.

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