Page 51 of Incubus with Benefits
The place was dim, lit by wall sconces and candles. And someone had re-composed bossa nova music into something a little more creepy, which, oddly enough, worked quite well. It definitely gave off Brazilian-steakhouse-meets-gothic-dinner-theater vibes. Every few minutes, a bell chimed to announce the next course.
A chorus of scents filled our noses: charred meat, wine, and something citrusy.
The food, though? There was no pretense in that.
The meat came in waves—skewered, sizzling, carved tableside right onto our plates. First came the picanha, rich and salty, seared to perfection. Then there was the garlic beef sirloin that had Lily moaning out loud. And let’s not forget crispy pork belly, spicy linguiça sausage, and beef ribs.
Lily kept flipping her card to green, daring them to keep going. I matched her bite for bite, because I loved a woman with a generous appetite.
Her phone rang several times during dinner, and each time she glared at the number on the screen before stuffing it back into her purse. After the third time, I asked who it was and what was wrong.
“It’s my parents.”
“And you don’t want to talk to them?”
“You know how I told you they said my natural talent was cheating and not real magic?”
I nodded, already not liking where this was going. We were having such a good time, and I didn’t want it marred.
“Well, they had me suppress it for years. And by the time we realized that suppressing a talent cripples one’s magic, it was already permanent. The verdict was that I’d never reach my full potential. Ever. They were really, really sorry. Like Mom bawled her eyes out. But I couldn’t find it in me to forgive them completely.
“The therapist told me I should be the bigger person, but I’m justnotthe bigger person, and I’m okay with that. We still see each other for all the major holidays, and pretend everything is fine, but we aren’t close, and we never talk about magic. Well, actually,Idon’t talk about magic. I walk out every time they try. This”—she held up her phone—“is them calling because an old coworker of theirs from Witches International recognized my name. She’s the one trying to get my coven application approved. I’ll call her back. But I want to have my dinner in peace.”
“That’s fair.” And now I felt bad for asking because of the tiny wrinkles of stress on her brows that hadn’t been there before.
But after eating some more, the creases disappeared, and she relaxed.
She leaned in with a piece of grilled pineapple and held it to my lips. “Open,” she said, voice teasing. I did, and she fed it to me slowly.
“Sweet,” I said. “But not as sweet as you.”
Her reaction? “I know.”
Eventually, we slowed down, and Lily leaned back with a satisfied sigh.
Looking at her, happy and sated, shifted something in my chest. It felt full and tight, as if I were on the edge of something significant. Something life-changing. Was this what a mate bond felt like?
Our waiter appeared with a leather-bound dessert menu in hand. “May I tempt you with dessert?”
“May you ever!” She took the menu, and the server promised to be back soon to take our order.
As we looked through it, her phone rang again. She took a big breath in. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna take this and I’ll make it quick. I promise.” She pointed to the Pudim de Leite on the menu. “Can you order this for me, please? Thank you.”
Then she excused herself, taking her call in the hallway.
The waiter returned, and I ordered the Pudim de Leite for her and a Brigadeiro for me.
She came back, a neutral and unreadable look on her face. “They wanted to congratulate me for finding a coven. They’re happy I found a place to belong. And that Simone is on the case, and not to worry, the application will go through.” Her shoulders sagged. “Then they started asking all these questions about my magic, and I told them I can’t stay and chit-chat because I’m in the middle of a date. Then I turned off my phone.” She blew out a breath. “I kind of feel horrible for brushing them off like that when I know they’re putting in an effort to make amends. And they’ve been supportive of me ever since. But just talking to them reminds me of what I could never be. I don’t know why I can’t just forgive and forget.”
I took her hand. “You don’t owe anyone forgiveness on their timeline. And you’re allowed to protect your peace.”
She bit her lower lip.
I leaned in a little closer. “And, Vixen, you’re not missing anything. You’re already perfect the way you are. Even without part of your magic, you are whole.”
“Thank you.”
The stress lines were back, but I was hoping that the desserts, which were making their way to our table right now, would help with that. And if they didn’t, I’d make it my mission to make sure she only thought of me and happy things for the rest of the evening.
