“How almost kind!” Sionnach gave her an irritated look and lifted one of the sticky menus to hold it out to Carissa. As he reached for the other menu, he saw that his disobedient faeries had donned mortal glamours and were walking into the restaurant. Gone were their tails and thorns. Instead, they now looked like standard desert-living teens. Their clothes were all a little worn, but their overall appearance was that of a rowdy group of potential troublemakers rather than absurdly long-living creatures who needed to be kept in check by their Alpha. It wasn’t that they were bad in the mortal sense of right and wrong; faeries were merely less cautious, more mischievous, and often unmindful of the breakable nature of more finite creatures.

Sionnach didn’t want to deal with their testing of his rules—not here, not in front of her—but they came up to the booth. One dragged a chair over to the booth. Two others slid into the bench facing Sionnach and Carissa. The fourth stayed standing.

“Shy?” Carissa looked at them warily.

“It’s fine.” He kept an arm around her.

The waitress, who had been watching them with a pronounced scowl, headed back over to the table. She stopped just behind the standing faery and announced, “No orders, no seats.” She paused and glared at Sionnach before adding, “Your friends need to order or get out.”

“They aren’t staying.” He looked at them one by one, hoping that they’d walk away.

They grinned unrepentantly.

“We could order food,” one said.

“And pay for it,” the waitresses said sternly.

“Sure,” another faery replied.

“No.” Sionnach gave them a look that was more bared teeth than actual smile, warning them that they were treading on shaky ground. “You need to leave.”

The faery on the chair asked, “Where’s Rika? I didn’t see her around. Did she go back with Keenan?”

“Who?” Carissa tensed and started to pull out of Sionnach’s embrace.

“Tsk. Tsk. You didn’t tell her about Rika?”

“Rika is my family,” Sionnach murmured to Carissa as the faeries flashed mock innocent looks. Then, his gaze still on the faeries: “She’ll be home soon, and she would not like you attempting to stir trouble in her absence.”

Carissa started, “Your family? Is she your sister or—”

“My family . . . more or less adopted her. It’s like she was born one of us now.”

“Oh.” Carissa sounded relieved, and then instantly a little hurt. “Why haven’t I met her? Or heard about her? You’ve never even mentioned her.”

“What terrible manners!” the faery standing beside the table said with a gasp. “Carissa, darling, you ought to come with us instead.”