Chapter Ten

Stephanie

The plane’s engines rumble as we taxi down the runway. I glance over at Alfie, noting how he grips the armrest. His hands and hooves appear to be the only parts of his body that aren’t covered in fur, so it’s easy to see how white his knuckles are.

He meets my gaze, amusement flickering in his amber eyes. “My first time flying,” he explains wryly, then shrugs and tosses me a lopsided smile.

It’s my first time, too, but I don’t mention it. I’m excited, not terrified.

“Two hundred thousand times safer than a car. I looked it up.” It’s a reassuring fact. At least I thought so.

“Although I believe you,” the plane makes a screeching noise that makes my insides coil in fear and causes his eyes to flare so wide that the white shows all around his amber irises, “it gives me little comfort.”

As the plane lifts off, Alfie’s hands clench the armrests again. Without thinking, I cover one large hand with my own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His skin is softer than I expected, and my wrist grazes his velvet fur.

He glances down at our hands, surprise crossing his bovine features. I’m about to pull my hand away, an apology on my lips, but he turns his palm up and entwines his blunt fingers with mine.

My heart stutters in my chest. Over the last few weeks as we planned this trip, I’ve become more aware of my growing attraction to him. But I know he only sees me as a helpful assistant, a friend at most. I’m not Ashley with her outlandish curves and brazen disregard for propriety. Just plain old Stephanie.

Yet the way he rubs his thumb in slow circles over the back of my hand makes me wonder… No. Wishful thinking. I’m certain he’s just nervous about the flight.

Our flight attendant introduces himself as Jeff and asks if he can get us anything to eat or drink. We’re both too nervous to eat, and neither of us wants alcohol. We politely accept ice water. Jeff disappears into the prep area, instructing us to push the call button if we need anything.

I distract myself by going over the itinerary in my head. We’ll land in L.A. late tonight. I’ve booked an SUV rental, not wanting to count on a taxi driver who might freak out when they pull up and see a minotaur.

After that, we’ll arrive at the hotel where I made certain we wouldn’t be turned away at the front desk. Arriving after midnight wasn’t an accident. I figured it would ensure that we’d see as few people as possible in our travels.

First thing tomorrow, we meet a minotaur named Bechtel, who told us he had everything lined up with several Other musicians Alfie has been in communication with. As my grandma would say, he’s as nervous as a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.

He’s anxious about recruiting musicians from the Zone and worried they won’t accept him as one of their own since he was raised among humans. But I keep reminding him they’ll be eager for the opportunity he’s offering.

“You look so worried,” I say without judgment, hoping he won’t yank his warm hand from mine. “Worried about crashing, or how you’ll be accepted in the Zone?”

His face clamps down. I’ve known him long enough to be well acquainted with this expression. What will come next is one of two things. He’ll either shrug and clam up, or he’ll word-vomit all his concerns. Damned if I don’t find both of his extremes irritatingly adorable.

“Yes. Yes, to both and a thousand other things.”

With that, I know the rest of his anxious thoughts will tumble from his lips.

“Worried about crashing, about getting tossed out of the pricey hotel you booked, about getting pulled from the rental car and beaten to death by the Purists who evidently protest at the Zone’s gate 24/7. Worried about being laughed at by the Others we meet because I know nothing, nothing, about my own heritage. Worried about… everything.”

There’s something about him trusting me with all his anxieties that touches my heart. It makes me feel special.

I tamp down my urge to say something stupid like, “Everything will be alright.” That would be presumptuous and dismissive. Instead, I tighten my grip on his hand, wait until his gaze connects with mine, and say, “If your life had been different, you would have been raised in the lap of luxury, a senator’s son. Instead, because of circumstances, you were raised in isolation. I’m sure it was lonely, but Alfie, you were forged in fire.”

Our gazes connect and the affectionate look on his face zings straight to my core.

“You laugh things off, joking about walking naked in the sun, make light of your success by saying it’s a stroke of luck, but underneath all your quips, you’re the strongest person I know.”

His head tips back imperceptibly and he swallows, hard. There’s something about that movement that catches my attention, and makes me think about trailing my lips through the fur on his masculine throat.

“Y-you really think that?”

“The strongest person I know,” I repeat, then firm my lips into a straight line.

“Steph, I…” He unwinds his fingers from mine and reaches as though he’s going to slide an errant strand of my hair behind my ear. Then he shakes his head, makes a noncommittal noise, and gazes out the window at the clouds rolling past beneath us.

His hand returns to the armrest between us, so I lay my palm on the back of his hand and give it another supportive squeeze. He flips his hand over and continues to rub his thumb lazily over my skin.

My cheeks grow warm. Stop reading into things, I scold myself. But when I meet his eyes again, there’s a softness in his expression that makes my heart skip.

Get a grip, Stephanie. This trip is about business, not your hopeless crush.

Yeah. I’ve got a crush—on my boss. My handsome minotaur boss. I stopped pretending I didn’t find him attractive a couple of weeks ago.

Time to change the subject before I do something I can’t take back, like confess my feelings. That would be not only the stupidest move I could make emotionally—talk about embarrassing—but it would also be a financial disaster. I mean, he’d have to fire me, right? Talk about making the poor guy feel awkward in his own home.

“So, let me tell you all about the cuisine in Ysaria,” I say brightly as I yank my hand from his and pull out my computer pad. “Take a look at some of the dishes the country is known for. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to sample some of them at the big banquet the Potentate Velorian is throwing in your honor.”

“I knew I hired a smart woman. Take my mind off fiery airplane crashes by talking about food. That should do the trick.”

Great. We’re laughing and talking, and his hand is no longer warmly stroking mine. This is just what I wanted, right?