Page 19 of Touched

Son of a damn bitch.

“Sylph,” I finally tell her, unbelieving of the fact that I just spit it out like that’s a normal thing to say.

Uh, what?

Well, this is New Orleans…

I continue. “Not sure where in my generational line, but my great-grandmother told me it was in my bloodline. Only, I’m not gonna lie… I didn’t believe her. I thought it was another of the fanciful legends that families often tell their kids. But you know, this is New Orleans, mystical realism is woven into everything. It adds to the allure of the city. Some of it is real… most of it is bullshit…”

Right? It is bullshit…

“You thought she lied to you?” she questions, looking confused. “Why would she do that?”

I shake my head. “Not lie, exactly. More like embellish something to give it more flair.”

“Fae can’t lie,” she blurts out. I raise my brow at her in disbelief, and she shrugs as she continues. “It’s true. We can’t. If I’m asked a direct question, it’s nearly a compulsion for me to tell the truth, no matter the outcome.”

Sensing a story here, I ask with genuine curiosity, “And has it gotten you into trouble in the past?”

“Yes, several times. I’m not really a rule follower. So…” She grimaces before she grins at me. I start chuckling. I can’t help it. She looks so chagrined.

I want to know everything there is to know about her; what she does and doesn’t like, where she lives, what kind of differences there are between her world and mine. All the minute details one usually learns about someone they’re interested in spending a significant amount of time with…

Maybe even forever.

Whoa, there, LeBlanc.

What the actual hell?

Slow your damn roll now. You’ve had a sum total of three interactions with her. That’s not enough time to know something so important and life changing.

Am I dreaming? No, I’m not. I’m here.

But this is wild. So surreal.

I’m a man of facts and details. I am not fanciful, and I am not a dreamer.

“I suspect you gave your parents a run for their money growing up, huh?” At her confused expression, I realize she may not understand what I mean. I patiently explain the phrase while she listens intently to my every word, seemingly soaking them in.

“I still do. Well, them… and my older brother. Oh, poor Cyrus…” she admits. Her tinkling laughter has me joining in. Before long, I’m wiping away the tears from my eyes as I vividly imagine various scenarios she’s gotten into that caused her parents and sibling to go crazy.

* * *

Iwasn’t going to meet him today, even though I had promised if he let me go yesterday, I would. And then, I’d explain everything. Cyrus’s questions yesterday had me worried that he’d find out I’d been seen by a human. Thankfully, Cyrus never askedthatparticular question, so I didn’t have to admit everything that had happened. The dirty smudge on my dress was explained away when I told him I accidentally brushed against a tire while walking amongst the humans, which I had done.It wasn’t a lie.He seemed to be satisfied with my response and I was able to fix us both something light to eat until our parents arrived, and we could sit down for a family dinner, together.

But when I woke up this morning, after tossing and turning most of last night, I noticed that everyone had gone about their day, and the house was empty. I took it as a sign that I should meet Callum. Especially since I had promised to tell him what I was. I hate breaking my word to anyone. Even if the end result was him running from me in terror. I, at least, owed him that much. Maybe it was skewed logic, given the circumstances themselves, but my fascination with humans as a whole, andhimin particular, makes it make sense to me.

That’s what I told myself while I was eating breakfast. Then again, while I was doing a few things that my mother had asked me to take care of last night. But as his handsome face continued to flash through my mind while I was getting ready for the day, I decided to sneak through the wards, once again, and meet him.

He was just so attractive, causing my heart to race within my chest, sitting under the tree as I approached. I couldn’t resist sending a small breeze to cool him off. I saw the sweat on his forehead and neck. I definitely didn’t think it through though, because I startled him just appearing the way I did.

“Sir, are you all right?” I’m so lost in thought that I don’t notice a groundskeeper has approached and is standing in front of Callum, a concerned look on his face.

“I’m fine, why do you ask?” Callum replies.

“Because I saw you talking to yourself. Then, you started laughing. It’s awfully hot out here, sir. You may want to get indoors to avoid heatstroke,” the elderly man suggests, holding out an unopened bottle of water to Callum. “I brought you a drink. Do you need help getting back to your vehicle?”

I see Callum’s ears have pinkened, almost as if he’s embarrassed. The visual the groundskeeper has painted has me holding my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. It probably does look funny to him to see Callum’s arms waving around, as he seemingly talks to himself, before laughing boisterously.

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