Page 46 of The Fae Menagerie
I nodded. "Grandmother is anthousai, but her fated mate was from the night court. She refused her fated mate to become surrogate to the flower king and his consort. She started the war by refusing love. My father tried to make it right by marrying Mother, whose family was taken prisoner during the war. She was raised as part of the night court." My parents' love wasn't written into any of the romances in my library, which was another reason to read them. The small section of fae histories covered their battles, but there was no love lost between my parents.
"Their marriage ended the war, but they fought their own cold war after I was born. When Father went off to fight with the pixies against the wasps, he made that paddle for me." I had been in my thirties, then, still an underdeveloped youth with no magic. "He flew off into the sunset and returned to us on the back of a nightmare, his body bloated and scarred with wasp stings."
"Those things could have killed you?"
I shrugged. "Not with so few." Aidan had freed enough to annoy me but not to kill me. He'd expected them to sting and kill Parker, a poetic ending for my human companion, and proof anthousai shouldn't go meddling in the affairs of other fae.
"You saved my life." Despite my silence, Parker seemed to follow my line of thought seamlessly, the way fated mates were rumored to do.
We weren't fated mates. That was impossible.
I needed space. I snapped the directory book closed and hopped to my feet. I had the library layout memorized, every book and pamphlet. I found the one he'd requested about folded paper art. I handed it to him and continued out the door.
The kitchen was still dark, with no Horace in sight. I made my way to my bedroom, where the smell of Parker overwhelmed me. He'd taken a shower after me, but the sweet scent of his release was still strong in the air. I wanted to cover myself in his cum.
I grabbed my cleaning gloves from the closet and dragged them on, enjoying the brief sensation of magic over my skin. Then, I got to work, spraying the inside of the shower with the cleaning products beneath my sink and scouring with the scrubbing brush until the only smell was bleach.
"It's dinner time." Parker's voice was far closer than I'd expected. "What are you doing?"
Still on my knees, I glanced over my shoulder to find him in the doorway with his arms crossed.
"I just finished cleaning the shower."
His blush spread from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears, and he gripped tighter around his chest. "I know you can hear registers I can't, because you can hear the flute you played."
I nodded.
"Is your sense of smell stronger than mine, too?"
I shook the brush out and placed it back in my cleaning caddy before I stood. There was no way around it. Yes, I could smell him after he thought he'd washed all evidence down the drain.
"I'm anthousai," I said. "We have to know when pollen is ready to harvest."
He rolled his eyes at my half-answer.
"Yes. My sense of smell is outstanding, even among my peers. Mother says it's because she spent time in the night court, learning their flowers."
He turned his back to me, but instead of leaving, he held his elbow out for me to slip my free arm in his. He waited while I tucked my cleaning tools back into the bedroom closet, and then we walked arm in arm to the kitchen.
"I'm sorry," he said as he pulled my chair out for me. "I didn't mean to stink up the place."
He didn't know how intoxicating his aroma was, and I didn't want to embarrass him. I sank into my chair and frowned at the sandwich on my plate. I waited for him to sit down and take a bite before telling him, "You smell far better than this trash."
He nearly choked, and my desire to take care of him kicked in. Before I could get my arms into place at his diaphragm, he was breathing again.
"I thought I smelled vile," he said. "Bad enough to scrub the shower."
"I only cleaned the shower so I could sleep tonight." I took a hefty bite of the bland vegetables flopped between two pieces of bread on my plate.
Parker's cheeks darkened even more, and his armpits were almost to his ears, his shoulders were so tense. He'd lost all interest in his sandwich and was now staring at me. "I can't tell if that's better or worse than thinking I stink. The smell makes you horny?"
"That word is so crass." Yes, I wanted to change the subject right fucking now.
"Is it true, though?"
"Gods." I tried to keep the secret to myself, but he'd asked me a direct question. I was compelled to answer. "Yes."
"Is it just the smell?" He tucked in even closer to his chest, cocking his head to the side so he could still see me.
