“No.” She reached out and caught his wrist, tugging him until he sat beside her. “I’m with you, so it’s perfect.”

Somewhat embarrassed, he admitted, “My finances are lacking.”

She entwined her fingers with his. “Don’t worry about it. There’s no real jobs here . . . or places to go or . . .” She looked out the window at the partially lit signs, scrubby plants, and cracked asphalt. “This whole place is awful. As soon as I can, I’m out of here.”

Sionnach tensed. He wasn’t surprised at the vehement tone in her voice, but he didn’t see the world the same way she did. He wanted her to see it as he did, to maybe stay here a while longer. “It can be wonderful here too. Beautiful. There are treasures here that I haven’t found anywhere else . . . and we have fun, don’t we?”

She turned to smile at him. “It’s not awful with you here, but it was before.”

As Carissa snuggled into Sionnach’s embrace, he glanced down at their entwined fingers. She might be a mortal, but he’d miss her. If he were a mortal, he’d follow her for a time to whatever place she fled to, but he wasn’t. He wouldn’t ever be. The desert was always going to be his rightful place, and she was—like all mortals—a lovely distraction and fleeting moment in his eternity.

Outside the window, four solitary faeries rushed up and pressed their faces to the glass. They were his responsibility, but he’d told them previously that they weren’t to intrude when he was with human girls. Although Carissa couldn’t see them, she obviously felt him tense beside her because she asked, “Are you okay?”

“How could I be anything else? I’m with you,” he assured her. He hadn’t actually answered the question, but overt lies were impossible. Luckily, like most people, Carissa didn’t notice simple misdirection.

When she looked away, scanning the room for their server, Sionnach scowled at the faeries. He subtly tilted his head upward in a gesture that clearly conveyed that they should depart. Instead of obeying, they mocked him—one swept another into an exaggerated dip, a second folded his hands and clutched them over his heart with a moony expression. They weren’t doing anything horrible, but he didn’t want an audience. He didn’t want them to bring their reminders of his responsibilities and challenges into his rare time at pretending to be free.

“Go away,” he mouthed silently.

Carissa glanced at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He smiled reassuringly before he said, “I was merely thinking.”

“About?”

“Well . . .” He leaned in close to her as if he were going to say something serious and then whispered, “Food.”

Carissa laughed.

A waitress dropped a menu on the table with a thunk.