Page 26 of Enticing the Elf
Now it’s my turn to blush. I don’t know why—I’ve never been the kind of person who’s shy about sex or anatomy. There’s something about Eoin’s appreciative little growl, though, that makes me feel like a shy virgin… who wants to be debauched.
I clear my throat. “Is it time to talk about the tasks?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Eoin
The sightof Dáithí’s sexy flush makes my whole day so much better. Of course, it started feeling less like a tragedy when he walked in the door, proving that he hadn’t changed his mind, and then went all fierce protector on me, worrying that I might have been hurt.
He loves me. I know he does. He’s just scared of being hurt. It breaks my heart that he doesn’t know I’d rather die a thousand painful deaths than cause him a moment of grief, but I can understand how it might be hard for him to accept that someone with my track record suddenly wants forever. Words are easy in situations like this, which is why I’m hoping this challenge will back them up with actions. Ari might have been unhappy with the idea of more than one test, but I welcome the chance to show, over and over, that I’m not the same fuckboy—to use an Earth term—that I used to be.
I’m older. I’ve been through a lot, and watched the people close to me go through it too. I’ve lost so many friends, I can’t count, even though their faces haunt me. I’ve seen my people establish new lives, safe at last to exist and love… and I want that too. I want the security of this new home and a love I can rely on.
But the only person I want it with is Dáithí. I won’t settle for anyone else. So I’ll happily complete any test set to prove that and win my future.
“The tasks,” Andrew Turner announces, then turns to Hagen, who’s been quiet since his inadvertent blunder. “The handouts, if you please.”
“There are handouts?” Brandt asks. “This is fascinating. Are there diagrams on these handouts?”
Caolan takes a stack of paper from Hagen and passes it to Alistair. “No. The diagrams are in my presentation.” He sniffs, clearly not happy.
“For the love of god,” Noah mutters, then adds, louder, “You can email everyone a copy, okay?”
The sulky frown disappears from Caolan’s face. “Okay!”
There’s a chance this may be getting out of Dáithí’s and my control, but I can’t make myself care when all my focus is needed to achieve my goal. I take the remaining handouts from Ari, keep one, and pass the few that are left to Dáithí, who glares at them like they’re radioactive and hands them off as fast as he can.
Interesting… and concerning.
It only takes one glance to see what annoys Dáithí: the heading. I press my lips together to keep from laughing.
“Summit of Love: The Epic Challenge,” Brandt reads, triggering a cascade of chuckles and chortles. “A Herculean trial to win the heart of an elf,” he continues, and a snort manages to escape me.
Dáithí’s elbow makes contact with my ribs. “Don’t laugh,” he hisses. “You’ll encourage them.”
I aim a skeptical glance around the table. The only people not laughing, aside from me and Dáithí, are Team Bro, who wear beatific smiles. “I think it’s too late for that.”
“What does ‘herculean’ mean?” Niamh asks. “I haven’t heard that word before.”
“Very powerful or difficult,” Alistair explains. “Have you heard about the mythological Greek hero, Hercules?”
Niamh’s face brightens. “Yes! He has some cameo appearances onXena: Warrior Princess.”
I don’t know what that is, but if it’s connected to this challenge, maybe I need to watch it.
“Someone save me from the nineties,” Noah mutters.
Alistair ignores him. “That’s a great show! Hercules was, like, a demigod—the head god, Zeus, couldn’t keep it in his pants, and Hercules happened one of those times. Though I think his name got changed, because sometimes people say Heracles. Anyway, a bunch of stuff happened, none of it good, and Hercules ended up being assigned twelve tasks—the Labors of Hercules—to make up for it. Or something. So we figured we could base Eoin’s tasks on that.”
“Loosely, though,” Andrew adds. “Very loosely.”
“Yeah.” Hagen pulls a face. “There was a lot of slaying, capturing, and stealing on that list. We weren’t on board with that.”
“Neither am I,” Raðulfr says.
I fold my arms and add, “Nor me.” Unless it’s that delivery guy who always flirts with Dáithí. I wouldn’tslayhim, exactly, but he might think I was going to. I side-eye Dáithí and wonder if that would make him mad. Does he like having the delivery guy’s attention?
Ari’s moved on, studying the paper. “There aren’t twelve tasks on this list.”
