“Carissa,” she said by way of greeting. “And you are?”

“Shy.”

“Really?” She offered him a smile that transformed her face, making her look less like Rika, but still lovely. “You don’t seem very shy.”

He ducked his head, feigning bashfulness for a moment, and was rewarded by her laughter. “It’s a pet name for that very reason,” he admitted. “I’m woefully bold, I’m afraid.”

Carissa stepped closer. “Prove it.”

This was why he appreciated mortal girls. He’d confessed that same thing to so many girls, fey and mortal alike, and he never knew what to expect of the mortals. Faeries were more predictable. In the world at large, he had only to look at their court to know how they’d respond, and here in the desert, he was their Alpha, so they wouldn’t refuse his interest—which was precisely why he didn’t woo any of them. There was no challenge if there was no risk of rejection, a stance some faeries didn’t seem to understand.

The mortal girl was staring at him boldly, so he pulled her near, lowered his lips to hers, closed his eyes, and kissed her until she was unsteady on her feet. When she pulled back several moments later, her arms were twined around his neck, and her breathy words of approval were whispers against his skin. She was happy, and he wouldn’t tell her that he pictured someone else when he closed his eyes. He’d only slipped and admitted that once.

For a moment, he stood with his eyes still closed and enjoyed the illusion, but he didn’t have the luxury of spending his evening standing in the shadows kissing a stranger. He had plans to tend. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and looked at Carissa. She really was quite pretty in her own right.

“I have to go,” he began.

She pulled a phone out of her jeans pocket. “Number?”

Sionnach shook his head and patted his empty pockets. “No phone.”

“Really?”

“Truly.”

Carissa looked at him like he’d just confessed to living a life lacking electricity, automobiles, and internet. He smiled. None of those were a part of his life, but they were easy to hide. The lack of a mobile phone stood out though.

She looked around the street. It was mostly empty. A few older mortals pushed a baby carriage nearby; a weathered man scowled at something he’d heard on his headphones. There were, however, some girls sipping their drinks and laughing. After a moment, she took his hand and tugged him toward them. Amused, he followed.

“Do any of you have a pen?” she said when they reached the girls.

Two of them stared at her silently, but a third girl searched in her purse. What she pulled out of the bag, though, was an eyeliner pencil. She held it out. “This is the best I’ve got.”