Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

STORM

“It sounds like you had a good first day,” Pete comments, lifting his beer in salute. “Let’s hope it continues that way.”

I smile down at my burger and dip some fries in ketchup, but before I can reply, Hannah, his girlfriend, butts in.

“Stop being so negative. Just because you thought he was crazy to leave his old job doesn’t mean the new one isn’t exactly what he needs.” She turns an encouraging face to me. “Go on—you were going to say something else. I could tell.”

Pete snorts, but I only grin. Hannah’s a perpetual mother hen, and even though Pete’s been my friend longer, I think if they broke up, she’s the one I’d keep.

“You know I like her better than you, right?” I ask him now. We’ve had this conversation in the past. This is the part where he rolls his eyes and mutters something about everyone liking her better, including him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “If we break up, she gets to keep the cat and all our friends.” A sly smile tugs at his mouth. “That’s why I’ve taken steps to ensure we’re not breaking up.”

I blink. “What?”

Hannah, grinning so wide I think her face might crack, reaches into her pocket and pulls out a fucking diamond ring that’s so huge, it nearly blinds me, and slides it onto her finger. “Surprise!”

I drop my fries. “You’re kidding! And you let me waffle on about the beachfront location of my new job? Congratulations!” I get out of my chair and go around the table to hug her and then slap Pete on the back. “Finally doing something right, hey?”

“Sometimes I think you forget who brought her into your life,” he complains as I sit again.

“Tell me everything,” I demand—of Hannah. Pete’s an accountant; it’s not likely that he has interesting plans for the wedding, other than it can’t be in April. Tax time rules all.

“It just happened today,” she divulges. “You’re the first person to know other than our parents and my brother. Pete asked me to meet him for a coffee break at that bakery near the office, where we met?”

I nod. “The place with the carrot cake I would commit murder over.”

“That’s the one. I just ordered a latte, but he convinced me to order a cupcake as well—not that it took much effort—and when the server brought it out, it had a little chocolate plaque on it with the words ‘Marry Me Please.’ Hold on, I have a photo.” She grabs her phone and shows me a picture that I dutifully coo over. “I thought it was some kind of promotion or new flavor, but when I looked up, he was holding the ring.”

“Wow.” I raise a brow at my friend. “Who knew you were so good with the romantic gestures?”

“Hey, I watch YouTube like everyone else,” he defends, making us all laugh.

“So what plans—” I start, but Hannah interrupts me.

“We have zero plans yet. I haven’t even bought any magazines or created a Pinterest board. I want to hear about whatever other thing has happened to you that’s made you all glowy.”

I sputter even as Pete laughs and says, “What the fuck does glowy mean? He’s not a firefly!”

Hannah waves in my general direction. “He’s… happy. Not that he was sad before, but there’s just something glowy about him. I don’t know how to explain it, except it wasn’t there last week and now it is.”

Pete squints at me dubiously. “I… guess? I’m not sure I see it.”

“I do.” Her voice is firm. “Now spill, Storm.”

Squirming a little, I say, “There’s not much to spill.” There’s so much to spill. So, so much. Just nothing they’d believe. “I might have had a vibe with this guy today.” All the vibes.

She squeals so loudly that other diners look over and Pete winces. “That’s okay, I don’t need that ear,” he mutters.

“Shut up, Pete. Storm, tell me everything ! Who is he?”

“A guy at my new job. We met at lunchtime.” All true.

“That’s so fantastic! That’s?—”

“Wait,” Pete interrupts. “I thought this was a really small nonprofit. Like… you and the people who own it.”

I wince. “Yeah. He’s… kind of one of my bosses.”

My friend shakes his head, and even Hannah doesn’t seem sure what to say.

“But not the one I’ll be working with the most,” I rush to add. “Definitely not the one who does the hiring and firing.”

“Storm, come on,” Pete warns. “You’re the first person to say it’s a bad idea to get involved with the boss.”

“Yeah. This looks super bad, I know. But I promise, it’s not. And I’m going to be very cautious. The stakes are big.” They have no idea how big.

“It’s a mist?—”

“We trust your judgement,” Hannah says firmly. “We just don’t want you to end up brokenhearted and jobless. But whatever happens, we’re here to support you.”

“Thanks, Hannah.” I look at Pete. “See? Stuff like that is why people like her better.”

He flips me the bird.

“Now tell us about him,” Hannah insists, smacking his hand.

“His name is Zeph,” I begin, deliberately using the shorter version because it’s easy to believe that could be a shortening of an actual name that people give their kids. “He’s an expert in air pollution and storm activity?—”

Pete laughs so hard he chokes on his own spit and starts coughing. Hannah passes him the water. “Sorry,” she says to me. “He’s a child.” But her lips are twitching too.

I don’t get it.

“He’s…,” Pete wheezes. “He’s an expert on Storm activity!”

Oh my god. How did I miss that? Heat rushes to my face. “Holy fuck, that’s…” I slap a hand over my mouth and start to snicker.

It’s a few minutes before we’re all straight-faced again, and we’re avoiding eye contact because otherwise, we won’t be able to stop laughing. I clear my throat. “Just to be clear, we only met today. He hasn’t got that kind of expertise yet.”

Pete cracks up again.

I pull out of the parking lot and turn left, still smiling. I’m so glad I decided to come tonight. Aside from the amazing news my friends shared, it was really good to laugh and clear my head after the massive shift in perspective I experienced today. It’s not like it’s a common thing to learn that superheroes are real and fighting to save the planet… oh, and one of them is your fated soul mate.

Holy crap, fated soul mate. That’s heavy stuff.

Still, as good as it was to see Pete and Hannah and give my brain the chance to reset, I can’t deny that part of me wanted to be with Zephyr instead, or wished he could be there. I’m not sure what Pete would make of him—and Ted and Brenda—but I missed him.

Missed. Him.

It’s been about four hours since I saw him, and I’ve missed him this whole time. Is that what having a fated mate is like? Not an ache, exactly, but just this sensation that something that should be here isn’t. Like the nagging feeling when you know you forgot something important. That could get annoying after a while.

The car behind me honks, and I realize the light I didn’t know I was stopped at has turned green. I wave in apology and put my foot on the gas. Fuck, I need to pay more attention to what I’m doing instead of…

…driving back to the beach house. I am driving back to the beach house. Almost halfway there, to be clear. Sometime after I left the restaurant, while I was lost in my thoughts of how dreamy Zeph is, I navigated toward him instead of home.

I briefly consider turning the car around—to prove a goddamn point, mostly—but then shrug and continue on. So tonight I stay with Zephyr, and tomorrow, I’ll go directly home after work. I’ll have to, for clean clothes if nothing else.

There are still a few lights on in the house when I park in the driveway, and as I start up the steps, the front door opens. Zephyr grins at me. “You came back.”

“I wasn’t going to.” I stop in front of him. “I was heading home, but somehow ended up here. It’s inexplicable.”

“It’s the way things are meant to be,” he corrects. “Come in. You must be tired. Don’t worry about saying hello to the others.”

I’m not going to protest—I can say hello to them tomorrow. It’s not like coming back for a booty call with my boss is something I want to talk to my other bosses about.

Zephyr leads me up the stairs and along the hallway to a big room with a wall of windows. They’re all open, of course, and the night air wafts around me. The wide bed has a fitted sheet and pillows only—no other covers. That might be a problem come winter?—

The breeze eddying through the room turns warm, and I laugh in surprise. “Okay… so you can keep me from being cold.”

Zephyr’s smile is reassuring and intimate. “Always,” he promises. “Come and lie with me.”

We take a moment to undress, but then we’re stretched out on the mattress together, air flowing over and around us like our own personal climate control system. Our mouths find each other’s in long, languid, lazy kisses that have no beginning and no end, and soon the night takes on a hazy quality. I’m floating in the moonlight with Zephyr, and nothing matters—nothing is real—except for his hands and mouth on me and my hands and mouth on him. I’m hard, and I can feel that his cock against my leg is equally hard, but there’s no urgency in this moment. There’s just me and Zeph and the night.

A thousand tiny fingers begin to stroke along my skin, and I shiver, but not with cold. “Okay?” Zeph asks, and I murmur a breathy assent. It’s better than okay.

While the very air surrounding me is working over my erogenous zones, intent on arousing me, I slide my hands down Zephyr’s flanks and reach for his dick. Almost as soon as I close my fingers around the throbbing shaft, an equally firm grip encases mine.

Zeph’s hands, however, are still on my shoulders.

My lips curve against his, and we lazily jerk each other off as we hover, supported only by eddying air in the shadows of his bedroom. It’s the most surreal and yet real moment of my life—I finally get it. I understand what this world is about, what my purpose here is.

And when we both erupt in breathless, sweaty completion, Zeph lowers us to the mattress again, and we lie together in the patchy moonlight for the first night of the rest of our lives.