Page 91 of A Drop of Anguish
“I am simply Laithe. Our language does not have gendered pronouns, but this is not my world nor my culture, and how I am perceived here means little. Call me whatever you wish.”
Hmm. Does he truly not care, or is he just too passive to advocate for himself? I give him a short nod. “They/them it is.”
His lips twitch.
“So, how is Lucinda not your type, then, if gender means nothing to you? Is it her species? Personality?”
“Because gender is not a norm in my culture, I find extreme femininity and masculinity to be off-putting.”
Jarron points out a willowy girl with perfect black curls down her back, wearing a black mini dress, fishnet stockings, and super high stilettos. “That’s Lucinda.”
Okay, so super girly is not his type.
“What about him?” I point out a large shifter in a simple muscle tee and buzzed hair. I think I know the answer but am just curious at this point.
Laithe shakes his head. Wait,theirhead—the pronoun thing takes a little getting used to. “Wolf shifters in general are usually a no for me.”
“Okay, so like, Manuela. She would be your type?”
Laithe nods quickly, not even needing to find her. “But she’d never desire me. She is solid in her attraction to females.”
I look around, seeking another androgynous supernatural in the crowd. I find a girl with a pixie cut and dark-painted nails. She’s wearing a skirt and a corset top. “Her?” I ask.
He tilts his head, examining the girl. “Perhaps.”
There are few others I’d define as androgynous. Most people here push their sex appeal as hard as they can, which usually means punctuating things our culture likes about their particular gender. Girls with long hair, skirts, heels, and makeup. The men with tight tees, large, defined muscles, and short hair.
I’ve never considered myself overly girly, but maybe even I’m too feminine? Who knows? “What about me?” I blurt out.
There’s a pause, and then a low rumble begins in Jarron’s chest.
“Are you trying to get me in trouble, Candice?” Laithe asks lightly, but their gaze focuses past me.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t—never mind.” My cheeks warm again. That was a stupid thing to say, wasn’t it?
“It’s all right,” Laithe says. “It’s those potions you’ve been drinking. They loosen lips and make you say things you wouldn’t usually.”
Jarron takes in a long breath. “You’re right,” he says to Laithe. “Maybe you should leave us alone so I can ask her a few questions.”
Without missing a beat, Laithe slides from the seat and is lost to the crowd.
“Hey,” I complain. “I was enjoying that conversation.”
“I’m glad,” he purrs. “You’ll have many opportunities to continue it if you wish.”
I grunt in annoyance. But then quickly I find my muscles tense, wondering if he’s right. Maybe I’ll pour out all of my true feelings here and now without being able to stop myself.
A sudden swell of emotions crashes into me, followed by a wave of panic.
What the hell am I doing?Sitting on Jarron’s lap and flirting with him? It’s already gone too far.
I move to stand, but Jarron’s hands clench my waist and tug me back. “Please,” he begs. “Please stay.”
My heart clenches and then doubles its speed.
“You know I’d never pressure you to do anything you don’t want.”
My feet are on the ground, but my legs are still resting against his. His hands are spread over my waist, holding me firmly but gently.
