Chapter Two

A Love That Is Not Shared (10 Letters)

Seb

I hated that I wanted him so much.

Larkin Fairchild was a hot mess. He was immature and unprofessional and far too young for me. Twelve years younger, to be exact. Just twenty-three to my thirty-five. He talked constantly about wanting to fuck all the wrestlers, he spent more time on his phone than he did actually working and he spoke to Holt like they were bros, and not boss and assistant.

I shouldn't have wanted him, but I did, and I had from the moment he started working here.

Not that he ever really paid any attention to me. I was one of the few people here who didn't walk around half-naked all the time, so why would he? He'd called me boring a few times, teasingly, usually while I was doing a crossword or reading the paper. Never in a mean way. Larkin wasn't mean, he was guileless. He was all talk and no action.

He probably thought no one had noticed the way he flirted with all the wrestlers but always pulled back when they started getting a bit more amorous.

I'd noticed. I noticed everything about him. I knew he didn't really like the taste of coffee, but he drank it every morning— probably because he thought it made him seem more mature—after loading it with cream and sugar. I knew that when he came into work with his long pink hair tied back into a bun, it meant he hadn't slept well the night before.

I knew that when he was upset about something, his wings closed up tight, tucking into his back. When he was excited, they fluttered rapidly. When he was nervous, they snapped open wide, like he was instinctively trying to make himself appear bigger in the face of something unsettling him.

He probably didn't even know my last name, and we'd worked together for a year and a half.

Like always, I kept my gaze fixed firmly on my crossword book as we sat together waiting for Holt to arrive at work, but I couldn't focus on the clues in front of me, no matter how many times I read them. This was why I tended to stand outside the door even when I didn't need to—because Larkin's presence fucked up my concentration so much.

The blot of smooth, unblemished periwinkle skin, bright pink hair and pastel jewel-toned wings in my peripheral vision was like a beacon, commanding all my attention, perking up every instinct I had to get close and share heat and protect. That was why I stayed in my human form sometimes even when I didn't have to down here—those instincts were slightly more muted that way.

I wished I'd stayed in my human form now, but Larkin had been gone for hours, hanging out with all the wrestlers instead of doing work because Holt had spent most of the day with Taylor, so I'd leaped at the chance to sit down and get comfortable without being so infuriatingly distracted.

But now he was back, and if I got up and left straight away, he'd probably take it personally. Well, it was personal, but it wasn't his fault. He didn't know how much he affected me. He'd never done anything to encourage my feelings. Sometimes it felt like he barely even noticed me.

I despised that juvenile sense of invisibility, and I squashed down the urge to make him notice me. I was thirty-five fucking years old. I didn't need to act out to make the beautiful young fae I worked with pay attention to me. I refused to behave like a sullen teenager with an unrequited crush.

Unfortunately, that resolve did nothing to temper the actual feelings. I wished it were just lust. Something simple and easily sated. If it had just been lust, I could've gone out and found some other beautiful fae guy to satisfy the urge. Maybe one closer to my age, who wasn't so insecure and flighty and incapable of taking anything seriously.

But it wasn't. It wasn't just lust. So here I was, once again greedily soaking up these few moments alone with him, even though we weren't interacting, while simultaneously wanting to get away from him so I didn't have to sit here pretending I felt nothing.

He was on the other side of the room, sitting at his desk, but I could still smell him. He always smelled sweet, like caramel, but a little smoky too. Like a candy apple eaten by a bonfire in the fall.

It reminded me of pack hunts when I was young. In the colder months, my mom would make all of us kids candy apples to eat as we huddled around the bonfire together, after we inevitably got tired of playing as pups long before the adults were done racing through the woods and howling at the full moon. My mom was always the one who'd stayed behind with us kids, because she had a limp and running was too much for her, but she seemed to love those big pack nights anyway. She was always smiling as she kept an eye on us while we chased each other and puppy-piled near the fire, calling us back if we wandered too far.

Giving my watch a discreet glance, I figured five minutes was long enough for it to not seem like I was trying to get away from Larkin. He'd been staring at me anyway—I could feel it—but he tended to zone out and gaze into the middle distance a lot. His left eye always drifted a little when he did. I hated how cute I found it.

Tucking my pencil between the pages of my crossword book, I set it down and reached for my socks and shoes as I shifted back into my human form.

"Are you leaving?" Larkin asked abruptly, his voice a little hoarse.

He seemed tense all of a sudden. Edgy. I forced my expression to remain blank, even though now I was wondering if anything had happened with one of the wrestlers.

I wondered about it constantly, and I didn't like the ugly feeling that always rose when I thought about Larkin finally deciding to fool around with one of them. He always backed off when the flirting got a bit too intense, but he also still talked constantly about fucking the wrestlers. One day, he actually would. I was sure of it.

"Just going to wait outside," I answered him flatly. "Holt should be on his way in soon."

"He is. He texted me." Larkin fidgeted in his chair, probably a bit resentful that he'd had to come back here instead of staying with the wrestlers. "Taylor's with him."

My mouth almost twitched into a smile. I liked the human, Taylor. He seemed gentle and sweet, and Holt was already infatuated with him. They'd only met a couple of weeks ago, but it already seemed like they were constantly together.

Must be nice to want someone and have them want you back.

I let out a silent sigh. I definitely had to get away from Larkin before my thoughts grew any more self-pitying and miserable. Shoes back on, I stood and gave him a brief nod, my chest tightening when I saw him gazing at me, his eyes big and guileless and such a pretty jewel blue.

He was so beautiful that it'd actually made me breathless the first time I'd seen him, the day he'd come in for his interview with Holt. I'd had the task of meeting him upstairs in the lobby to bring him down to the club, and I'd known he was fae the moment he walked inside, even though he'd been in his human skin. His hair had still been bright pink, tied back into a bun neater than he'd ever worn it since, and his eyes still big and blue, but his skin a pale, peachy hue.

Larkin was, in my opinion, stunning. I didn't understand how anyone could look at him and not fall instantly in… lust. He was tall and lanky, with long legs and gangly arms and thin, big-knuckled fingers. His face was narrow, with high cheekbones, a small nose and a lush little mouth that had stretched into a nervous grin when I stood up to greet him that day.

As we'd been walking down the staircase and toward Holt's office, he'd shifted into his fae form. Small insectoid wings in gleaming pastel shades had emerged gracefully from the discreet slits in the back of his slightly-too-big suit. His skin had melted into a pale blue. His eyes had become even more luminous and jewel-like.

He'd been fiddling anxiously with his suit buttons as we walked, firing off rapid, hushed questions about Holt and what it was like working for him and whether he'd get to meet the wrestlers if he got the job.

By the time we'd reached Holt's office, I already wanted him desperately.

But Larkin was nothing if not oblivious, so he hadn't noticed. He'd never noticed. No one had. Not even Holt, an empyn who could sense others' emotions. But I wasn't young and carefree like Larkin—I was good at shielding what I was feeling so others couldn't pry. Besides, I didn't think Holt particularly enjoyed being smacked in the face with every emotion his employees were feeling when he walked into the office, so I figured it was polite to close myself off.

A few minutes after I got settled with my crossword outside the door, he and Taylor appeared, looking relaxed and flushed with happiness and already madly in love with each other. After greeting me, they went inside and I closed the door behind them, but I could hear the conversation as they said hello to Larkin.

When he replied, my ears pricked up even more. He still sounded… off. A little weird. I shoved down the instinct to rush inside and see what was wrong, figure out how I could make him feel better.

That wasn't my place.

"So, what have you guys been up to today?" Larkin asked, sounding a little subdued. Or maybe distracted.

Taylor said something about going shopping and "just hanging out," but his voice was thick with embarrassment, which most likely meant they'd spent the bulk of the day fucking.

"We saw Ethel," Holt then said, referring to an elderly lizard shifter who was a regular at the club. My hand clenched tighter around the pencil when he added, "She mentioned trying to set you up with her granddaughter."

I was rigid, staring down at my crossword with unseeing eyes. There was no answer at first, until I heard Larkin uncomfortably reply, "Oh. Yeah. That was a while ago."

"You weren't interested?" Holt immediately asked. "Maybe dating someone might stop you drooling over all the wrestlers."

My throat bobbed as I forced myself to relax the grip on my pencil. It was fine. I had no claim over Larkin—none at all. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him "drooling" over all the wrestlers. It was wrong of me to get… irritated by it.

"It's not like they'll all stop walking around half-naked and being ridiculously hot if I start dating someone," Larkin said with a huff. "Besides, I'm cool being single. I'm a free spirit, bro."

And that was one of the many reasons why I had never and would never tell him how I felt about him. Not to mention the fact that I was certain he'd reject me, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to bear it after spending so long pining for him. He was young and carefree and, rightfully so, not interested in anything serious.

I, on the other hand, was not a free spirit. I was too serious for him. And too possessive.

It wouldn't work, even if he was interested in me that way. Which he wasn't.

Releasing a slow breath, I tuned back in to the conversation in time to hear Holt call Larkin a little shit for some reason I'd missed, before saying, "Do what you want, Lark. Just no drinking until the show's over, at least."

Another slow, calming breath ruffled the page of my crossword book. Babysitting Larkin while he got drunk with the wrestlers was a unique form of torture. He got extra flirty. Said things he definitely shouldn't. Openly stared at the wrestlers, clearly imagining himself tangled in various naked positions with them.

Larkin wasn't good at sitting still, so he usually jumped at the chance to spend the evening backstage with the wrestlers instead of working. Which meant I was shocked when I heard him say, "After I go get Cora, I might just come back here. Do some work."

I heard my boss let out a choked sound of disbelief. "Do some work ? What work?"

As they devolved into their usual bickering, I quietly agonised over what to do for the rest of the evening. If Holt was going to watch the wrestling with Taylor in his private box, they'd want to be alone. I'd have a few free hours, which I'd usually spend in the office where it was quiet and empty.

But if Larkin was going to be in there all evening…

I could go upstairs and hang out with Ludo on the door in the lobby, or find a quiet, empty part of the club to do my crossword in peace. There were plenty of places I could go where Larkin wouldn't be. I didn't have to sit in there with him.

Holt sounded like he didn't really believe that Larkin would stay in the office all evening when he said, "Alright. Well, have fun, I guess. Seb will probably stay in here to keep you company."

My gut tightened. I shouldn't. I shouldn't go and sit in there with him, because what would be the point? I'd be clenched up and tense, trying not to inhale his scent too much, trying not to watch him furtively from the corner of my eye, trying not to imagine lifting him onto his desk and peeling him out of his suit…

Larkin's voice was a little hoarse as he said, "'Kay. Well, whatever. He—I'll be, um, busy. Working. So… whatever."

My brows twitched into a frown. He sounded nervous, but like he was trying to hide it with indifference. Why was he nervous? He never gave a shit about me sitting in there with him. He usually just sat on his phone.

I tried to think of some way I might've offended him or pissed him off, my mouth flattening into a grim line. I couldn't have. I said as little as possible to Larkin, and I was never rude to him. I was never rude to anyone.

I smoothed my expression into a blank mask when the door opened, then gave Holt and Taylor a nod as they smiled at me and made their way down the corridor hand in hand.

No sounds came from the room behind me, but I was painfully aware that Larkin was alone in there. I wondered what he was doing—whether he was actually going to stay in there and work later, or if he'd said it as a cover for something… like sneaking off with one of the wrestlers between matches.

Before I even realised I was moving, I found myself opening the door and walking silently over to the couch. I didn't even look at him, but I could feel him staring at me.

"H-hey," he eventually croaked, sounding nervous again.

I had to answer. I couldn't just outright ignore him, especially because I was still worried that I'd somehow pissed him off. My gut squirmed at the thought of Larkin being annoyed with me.

"I won't disturb you if I sit in here, will I?" I asked blankly, forcing myself to glance at him before quickly looking back down at my crossword.

"Um, no." From the corner of my eye, I saw him fidgeting, jerking his chair from side to side before he pulled it closer to his desk and grabbed his phone. "No, you're—It's cool. I'm just, um… working. I guess."

My mouth wanted to curve into an affectionate smile. He really was a terrible assistant. Unfortunately, I just found it endearing.

"Think you'll stay here tonight?" he asked, his voice carefully light. "Not gonna go watch the show?"

I rarely watched the wrestling, and never from the arena with the rest of the audience, so why had he asked me that?

Did he not want me in here?

"No. I'm not watching the show," I answered, trying not to sound too sullen.

"Cool." He audibly gulped, and I finally gave in and looked over at him to try and work out why he was acting so weird.

His cheeks were flushed, eyes fixed on his phone, and he was fidgeting even more restlessly now. Something was definitely up with him. He had that look he got when he was thinking hard about something—one I admittedly hadn't seen all that often.

He glanced up, and our eyes locked. Heat flooded his face, turning it a darker blue, before he snapped his head back down. I heard him suck in a sharp breath, almost like he was about to speak, but he remained silent. For once.

Feeling uneasy, I slowly looked back down at my crossword, but once again, I couldn't concentrate on the clues at all. The words were meaningless.

Sometimes constitutional, but more often indecent (11 Letters)

"I'll be back in a…" Larkin shoved his chair back and stood, fiddling with his phone. "Just grabbing a drink. Um, do you… w-want one?"

"I'm fine." I eyed him as he hurried to the door and vanished, not liking the way I felt once he was gone—both bereft and relieved. And still a little worried about him.

Exhaling, I looked back down and studied the clue again, able to focus better now that I wasn't breathing in his scent directly and trying not to stare at him longingly.

It finally clicked, and I lowered my pencil to scribble the word in the relevant spot. Proposition.

Then I glanced up at the door, wondering when he'd be back. Wondering what was wrong with him—what had made him so edgy tonight. Whether I'd be able to secretly fix it.

Some parts of Larkin I could read effortlessly, especially given how aware of him I always was, but other parts were still a mystery.