Sylen's POV
From his shadowed place by the stone railing, Sylen watched the Zaire and Esme wrapped in each other beneath the stars.
He rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck.
"Hump...What an eyesore," he muttered dramatically under his breath.
Next to him, Dusken, lounging in his half fox-like "dog" form thanks to Zaire's quick glamour, gave a loud snicker, his tail flicking lazily against the stone.
Sylen shot him a glare. "Don't you start, you wolf-dog."
Dusken only gave a smug little yip, wagging his tail mockingly.
From a few steps away, Jules, blissfully unaware of the true nature of things, caught the strange sound, frowned at Dusken, and muttered, "Seriously, what is wrong with this weird dog?"
On the other hand, Sylen looked away again with his jaw tight. He should've been annoyed. And he was.
But there was also something ugly and sharp twisting low in his chest.
It was not jealousy. God's no. Just… irritation.
Yeah, that was it.
Irritation at how easily Zaire had slipped back into his old, perfect self protector, lover, all shining bloody knight in Armor.
Sylen scowled and tugged at the cuff of his leather sleeve, fidgeting restlessly.
He didn't need that. He didn't want that.
He was perfectly fine being the charming bastard who flitted through life with a wink and a knife.
He was fine.
And then—
A voice broke the night air.
"You're brooding again, Mr Sparkles," Jules said, appearing beside him like she owned the damn ground she walked on.
Sylen tensed instantly, glaring sideways at her.
She leaned casually on the railing next to him, arms crossed, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"I don't brood," he said with a flat tone.
She leaned casually on the railing next to him, arms crossed, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Sure you don't. You just lurk in corners, glare at happy couples, and look like you're plotting five different ways to ruin someone's day."
Sylen narrowed his eyes. "Plotting six," he said sharply. "Get it right."
"You totally are a brood," she shot back, smirking. "It's your whole brand."
Sylen exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself not to respond.
Not to notice how the starlight caught in her hair.
Not to notice the way her mouth curved when she was being annoying, which was always.
"You're like a walking cliché," Jules teased. "Mysterious guy in leather with tragic eyebrows. Very 1990s vampire chic."
Sylen turned to face her fully now, arms folding across his chest. "You've got a lot of opinions for someone who still thinks tulip sales are the peak of human achievement," he said silkily.
Jules laughed, a real, honest laugh that punched something straight into Sylen's gut.
"I like tulips," she said. "At least they don't lie, or hide secrets, or throw dramatic tantrums like you mister."
Sylen's mouth twisted into a grin he didn't feel. "You're cute when you're wrong."
Jules leaned in slightly, just enough to make his heart slam once against his ribs. "So are you," she said sweetly. "When you think, you scare me."
For a second, Sylen forgot how to breathe.
They stared at each other, a crackle of something sharp and dangerous between them.
He should walk away. Gods, he should.
Instead, he leaned in too, their faces close enough that if either of them moved even an inch, it would be—
"—You're annoying," Sylen muttered.
Jules smiled, all teeth and fire. "Back at you, warlock."
And without another word, she turned and strolled back toward the house, hips swaying deliberately.
Sylen stood frozen, fists clenching at his sides, feeling like he'd just survived a battle he hadn't even known he was fighting.
Dusken made a noise suspiciously like a snicker. Sylen glowered down at him.
"What are you laughing at, mutt?" he muttered darkly, but there was no heat behind it.
Dusken only smirked with wicked glee, then shifted fully into fox form and trotted away.
Sylen stayed where he was, staring up at the stars. And for the first time in a very long time, he wasn't entirely sure whether he was furious or doomed.
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