“God, yeah, clowns are messed up.” I shuffled over to the armchair to look behind it. “I don’t really like heights. Like, I’m okay being in my workshop or in a tall building as long as I don’t look out the windows, but I could never visit the Grand Canyon or whatever.”
“I’m okay with heights.”
Of course she was. She’d had to live up that big hill with the sex cult.
“And cats freak me out,” I admitted, hearing her chuckle.
“Really? I think cats are cute.”
I looked over at her with a dry expression. “Sure, they look cute. It’s all part of their evil plan. Look all cute and soft so unwitting people let them into their homes, and then what do they do? Moan constantly for food. Scratch up all your furniture. Kill poor, innocent little bugs and mice. Why are they such assholes? They literally have the best life ever. They just eat and sleep. No jobs, no taxes, no need to think beyond where their next comfy sleeping spot is.”
Beryl laughed. “Okay, fine, we won’t get a cat.”
We both went still as the words hung in the air, before Beryl cleared her throat awkwardly and I ducked my head to keep looking for the spider.
“Um, how about dogs?” she asked, voice tinged with embarrassment.
“I love dogs,” I said quickly, not wanting her to be embarrassed and trying not to think too hard about what her words meant. The implication of them. “Dogs are the best. They just love you unconditionally. They’re special.”
“How come you don’t have one then?”
“Too lazy to walk it every day.” Plus Agma had wanted a cat and hated dogs.
I heard the affectionate smile in Beryl’s voice as she said, “You’re basically just a giant puppy dog yourself.”
“I will choose to take that as a compliment.” I sat back on my heels and looked around the room. “I can’t find it, Beryl. Maybe it got out when I came in.”
“No, it’s still in here,” she said immediately. “I can feel it. Waiting.”
I snorted, heaving myself up to check the curtains. “Waiting for what?”
“For me to be alone so it can crawl into my mouth while I’m asleep.”
“I don’t think spiders actually do that,” I said doubtfully, shaking one of the curtains and jolting a little when something small and black fell to the floor.
Beryl screamed, the bed shaking as she shifted frantically in place. I swooped down and managed to grab the spider before it got away, cupping my hands loosely together.
“Beryl, you wuss, it’s tiny,” I said incredulously, feeling its little legs skitter frantically over my palm.
She glared at me as I turned to face her. “I mean, of course it looks tiny in your gigantic hands.”
“My hands are proportionate to the rest of me,” I said pointedly. Except maybe they were a little big. My mom actually used to call me a puppy herself, saying how adorable I was because I hadn’t grown into my giant hands and feet.
“You have beautiful hands, Greid,” Beryl said impatiently, gaze darting to them repeatedly as I held the spider in my cupped palms. “Big, beautiful hands that are perfect for taking spiders far away from me.”
I laughed, heading for the door. “I’ll let it loose in the backyard.”
“The end of the backyard,” Beryl said hurriedly. “As far away from the house as possible.”
“Sure.” My mouth twitched as I added, “Although they do tend to migrate inside when it’s colder, and I’m pretty sure I’ve read that spiders always find their way back to where they—”
“Stop talking,” she croaked. “I’m never opening my window again.”
Chuckling, I headed down the stairs and through the kitchen, managing to get the back door unlocked with the tips of my fingers. After setting it free in the tangled jungle of my backyard, I went back inside and found Beryl hovering near the foot of the stairs.
“Is it gone?” she asked anxiously.
I grinned, making my way over and sliding my hands around her hips. She was a couple of steps up, so our faces were almost level.
“It begged to be taken back to the warmth of its web,” I told her solemnly. “It pleaded with me to think of its children. All those tiny, defenceless slings going hungry as their mama fights her way through a giant jungle full of predators to get back to them. The neighbour has a cat. Bet it stalks the yard looking for poor mama spiders to eat.”
“Shut up.” She gave my shoulder a gentle smack. “Don’t make me feel guilty.”
“Sorry.” I sobered, sidling closer to wrap my arms around her hips. “Want me to go check for any more before you go to bed?”
“As much as I enjoyed watching you bend over to look under the furniture, I’ll be okay.” She wrapped her arms loosely around my neck as my face spikes twitched. “Night, Greid.”
When she kissed me, I shut my eyes and kissed her back eagerly, but couldn’t help saying, muffled against her mouth, “Night, berry.”
She snorted, breaking the kiss and flicking my chin. “Night, greedy boy.”
“That’s mean,” I grumbled as my cock perked up, reluctantly letting go to watch her turn and head back up the stairs. “Be careful on the stairs,” I blurted. “It’s dark.”
“My weak human eyes will manage.” She waved a hand carelessly before disappearing from view.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Beryl
“Beryl, darling!”
I looked up from my phone to see Corva gliding toward me from the register at Deep Brew, tucking a credit card back into her purse.
“Hi, Corva.” I shuffled to the side so she could wait for her drink with me, dutifully lifting my chin for her air kisses beside either cheek.
“I was hoping to bump into you.” She nodded at my phone, pulling hers out of her bag. “We haven’t exchanged numbers yet.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t stop the beaming smile that spread over my face. Was she my first real friend? Well, aside from Greid, but he was more than a friend. He always had been. And I was friendly with everyone at the bar, but they were colleagues. We hadn’t hung out together outside of work.
I fumbled with my phone as Corva rattled off her number, then sent her a text at her demand so she’d have mine.
“How’s the job going?” she asked, tucking her phone away.
“Oh, really good,” I said eagerly. “I’m enjoying it.”
Which reminded me, I wanted to talk to Greid about contributing to the bills when I got home with our coffee.
“It’s the place across the street, right?”
“Yeah. Abyss.”
Corva pulled her phone back out when it vibrated, frowning at it. “I admit I haven’t checked out the nightlife around here yet,” she said absently, bright yellow painted claws tapping at her screen. “Still traipsing all the way across the city to meet friends at my old haunts. I just don’t think I’d survive if I didn’t eat at least once a week at Le Champignon Noir. Have you been?”
“Uh, no.”
She stuffed her phone back in her bag and clasped my arm. “Oh, you must. Their black truffle and dark chocolate parfait with liquorice foam is to die for.”
That… didn’t sound all that great, but I smiled politely. Note to self: make sure Greid knows not to book somewhere as fancy as Le Champignon Noir for our date. I could already tell it would be hellishly expensive, especially if it was Corva’s favourite restaurant.