Toasting that resolution, she slammed the remaining dregs of her wine. The mellow glow settling low in her belly did nothing to banish the ghostly pull of Jerrick. Even knowing precisely how little she affected him hadn’t stopped her from melting like an ice cube under his intense stare.
Gods, I’m pathetic. And a danger to her own sanity if she didn’t kill this obsession with Jerrick. Groaning, she snatched her coin purse and fished out enough merca to cover her portion of the bill. She’d let Roger cover the tip. Least he owed her after subjecting her to that shirt all night. Working her way to the exit, she escaped the growing crowd inside the restaurant and joined an infinitely bigger one outside.
All of Tul’dea had been overtaken with the spectacle of Amora Moon, the annual festival of fairy amour. The streets were a madhouse. She jostled between the massive hordes of revelers, and someone stepped on the toe of her boot, grinding hard.
She jerked her foot, wincing. “Yeah, not like I needed my big toe or anything.”
The creep with the heavy tread muttered a half-assed apology and dashed off—swinging her coin purse in his hand.
Reality crashed home two seconds too late. The crowd surged inward, forming an impenetrable wall, and she stared helplessly at the tattoo of an anchor riding the back of the pickpocket’s neck as he plowed a path toward the distant curb.
“Stop him! He has my—” An elbow jabbed her hard between the eyes. She staggered, white dots spinning in her vision. This is so not my night.
“You okay?”
Knuckling her forehead, she lifted her gaze in the direction of the concerned male voice. A face swam into focus, followed by a blurry corona of indistinguishable dark hair that slowly morphed into jet-black waves. Piercing hazel eyes were next on the list. She returned the stranger’s intent stare blankly until she remembered he’d asked a question.
“That lousy creep stole my bag.” Aw hell. She was never going to live this down if it got back to the wrong ears. Galvanized by the realization, she bolted forward.
“You can’t go after him by yourself.” The stranger snagged her arm.
She jerked an impatient glance over her shoulder. “Wanna bet?”
Ignoring the man’s exasperated sigh, she wiggled through the tight gap that emerged between a pair of costumed partiers decked out with matching lighted wings. Across the street, a hulking figure wove manically through the crowd.
“Gotcha, you lowdown bastard.” She jumped from the curb and darted between the idling vehicles congesting the street.
Like a shadow intent on dogging her every step, her stranger loped close behind. “Has anyone told you you’re relentless?”
“A time or two.”
“I hope whatever’s in that bag is worth it.”
“It’s not about the bag, it’s about redeeming my—” She snapped her mouth shut before managing to shove her foot inside.
“Redeeming your what?”
She thought fast. Damn hard to do while trying to sprint at the same time. “My coupon for a free six-pack of Larry the Fairy’s Hardcore Nectar. I left it in the bottom of my coin purse.” At least it wasn’t a total lie.
“We’re running down a thief for a coupon?” Despite his labored breaths, there was no mistaking the incredulous emphasis on the last word.
“What can I say? I like my booze.” They reached the intersection at the same time and stopped for a quick gasp of air.
Her stranger leaned against the lamppost, obviously trying to cover the fact he was two seconds away from passing out. “Where’d he go?”
She scanned the sidewalk. “Up there. By the liquor store.”
“Maybe he’s planning on redeeming your coupon.”
“Har-har.” Readjusting her eyeglasses, she galloped in the direction of the neon-lit shop. Staying on the outer fringe of the crowd made pursuit easier. Now if only she could catch up to that tattoo before it disappeared from view.
A dark blur streaked by—her stranger, barreling down on the fleeing thief. A grunt snuck past her lips. “Guess he got his second wind.”
He leapt through the air, tackling the pickpocket…and a few unsuspecting pedestrians. Bodies went flying like pins struck dead center by a human bowling ball.
“Holy crap.” Regaining her senses, Avily pushed her way through the befuddled crowd of gawkers. By the time she reached ground zero, the thief had regained footing and split. Defeat settled heavy in her chest. Until her stranger struggled to his feet and held up her coin purse.
A lopsided smile crooked one corner of his mouth. “Looks like someone owes me a drink.”
Thirty minutes later, Avily twisted the caps from two bottles of Larry the Fairy and tossed them into the small trash receptacle wedged between the folding chairs she’d dragged from her shop. One of the many benefits to The Fairest Rose being located on the main drag—her store provided prime viewing to the gaudiness of Amora Moon.
She passed the spare bottle to her drinking companion. “You do realize we’ve been sitting here for half an hour, and I still don’t know your name.”
“Hmm, makes two of us.”
“You don’t know your name either? Maybe I should cut you off.”
A rumbling laugh tumbled from his chest. “Thane Pearce, superhero pickpocket tackler at your service.”
“Oh good, you’re not nearly as inebriated as I’d feared.” She clinked bottles with him. “Pleasure to meet you, Thane. I’m Avily Donahoe. Have I thanked you recently for rescuing my coin purse?”
“Well, it’s been at least five minutes.” The huge smile spreading across his face could have lit the entire downtown.
Damn, he was attractive. And his sinful-as-chocolate accent was to die for. If it panned out he had a legal profession and no blindingly orange shirts hanging in his closet, he’d be the most normal, dateable man in existence.
So why didn’t she feel the tiniest spark? She’d been asking herself that very question for the last half hour and kept conjuring the same depressing conclusion.
Because he’s not Jer— She stopped before mentally finishing the statement. No, I will not utter his name or think about him again. “First time seeing Amora Moon in Technicolor detail?”
Thane nodded before wedging the bottle between his knees. “Recently relocated from Frittona. Far cry from anything back home.”
She chuckled. “You picked a heck of a time to initiate yourself into the craziness of this city.”
His gaze moved to her and took it’s time exploring her face. Flirtation sparkled in his eyes. “Couldn’t agree with you more. Apparently I need to thank the sisters of fate for blessing me with perfect timing tonight.”
Praying their shadowy alcove in The Fairest Rose’s doorway helped mask the blush heating her cheeks, she flicked a piece of imaginary fuzz from the knee of her cream-colored pants.
“Imagine all this traffic is good for business,” Thane offered casually.
She returned her attention to him, grateful for the slight change of subject. “It helps. God knows, once Amora Moon’s done with, I’ll be begging to make enough merca to keep me out of debtor’s prison.”
“So things are as difficult here as they are in Frittona.”
She empathized with the weariness in his voice. She could relate to the daily frustration of struggling to make a living in a fae-controlled world. “What trade are you in?”
“I’m an antiquities dealer. My specialty is tribal relics.”