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I check my bulky flip phone for the 5th time.
4:23pm.
I don't know why I expected Cardan to be back on time. I had some errands to do—which might include lingerie I wanted to keep secret until our anniversary—so I told him to explore the mall on his own. I gave him some (real, non-glamoured) money to spend like a child with an allowance.
There are so many red flags with this whole plan.
I do not like to admit it, but I'm worried. My extravagant husband has enough trouble fitting in with humans when he is with me, I can only imagine the trouble he can get himself in without me. Or the trouble that can find him when I am not there to protect him.
I get up from the bench that I had designed as our meeting point. Where could he be? Anywhere I would not go, which does not narrow the list down very much. As I walk around, I can imagine him enjoying every single one of these places.
Cardan smelling some bath bombs and chatting up with a pushy Lush salesperson. All that glitter, all that dye—the servants would rage at having to clean the tub afterwards.
Cardan entering a sterile-looking jewelry store, eyes glittering at all the precious gems.
Cardan browsing Hot Topic, digging into bowls of plastic rings and looking at shirts for bands he does not know.
My stomach drops as I stand before the one store I know I will find him in. Black-and-white striped pillars stand on either side of the storefront and the dreaded white font over black spells out the name of the store: Sephora.
I have never entered a Sephora before. They are intimidating and I know nothing about their products. Whenever I needed new eyeliner, I would just ask Vivi to buy me whichever one she thought was best. Nowadays, I can count on my husband's extensive makeup collection and skills.
“We have servants to do this!” I had insisted the first time he approached me with a kohl pencil. He had laughed, and I let him line my eyes. Ever since, I look forward to it. It’s a small, intimate gesture with which we prove our love to each other without saying a word. It is his way of showing care, and my way of showing trust.
I pass the threshold of the store and I spot him immediately. Even without my True Sight making his glamour ripple when I gaze at him, I would still have a hard time believing he is human. His glamour is perfect—rounded ears, no tail, the glitter of his skin dulled down to a normal healthy shine—but every glamour should have a flaw. The flaw in Cardan's glamour is the same detail that infuriates me when I look at his face when he wakes up: he is impossibly beautiful. Not handsome like a popular actor, not pretty like the members of a boyband. He is absolutely devastating, just as he is as a faerie.
Even amongst gorgeous people who perfected their faces through makeup and good lighting, he stands out.
For me, however, bewilderment comes from seeing Cardan wait in line like a normal person. Like a boy who did not grow up as an entitled prick. It shakes me so much that I stop in my tracks and watch him walk up to the register once the previous client leaves.
He adapts better than I give him credit for. My heart swells with love for this male who keeps challenging and surprising me.
I go to bypass the line and I catch a snippet of his conversation with the boy manning the cash register. On the counter lay piles of makeup, from eyeshadow palettes to colorful eyeliner.
"A good choice!" the cashier exclaims, holding a dark lipstick, "it has the best matte finish. It even passes the kiss test!"
I swear I can see him wiggle his perfectly defined eyebrows. The smile he gives Cardan is wicked—the same kind of grin my husband gives me over dinner then he's feeling particularly hungry .
"The kiss test?" my husband asks, a grin forming on his sinful lips.
"Yeah," the cashier replies, "you can make out with someone, it won't budge. Or transfer."
I get to Cardan’s side and the cashier notices me then. His brows raise in surprise for a moment before he schools his features into a socially acceptable customer service smile.
I can't blame him for his surprise—Cardan and I could not look any more mismatched. His sharp features are accentuated with contouring and a lighter version of his usual silver highlighter. I, on the other hand, barely had time to brush my hair before putting on an oversized hoodie and leggings. I bet I look like someone he took pity on and brought to the mall for a makeover.
"Where is the fun in that?" Cardan looks at me then, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Still, I suppose I will have to try."
I roll my eyes and he presses a kiss to the top of my head.
The cashier tells Cardan the total, and he raises a brow when my husband starts counting cash. I know other humans use cards nowadays, but without a permanent address in the Mortal Realm, we have been dealing exclusively in cash—mostly given by Vivi in exchange for Elfhame goods.
The boy thanks Cardan for his purchase, and it's all I can do not to laugh when he replies " you're very welcome ", like that is a normal thing to say to a retail employee.
On our way out, Cardan stops by one of the many mirrors in the store and applies his new lipstick, ending with a pop of his luscious lips.
"Really? You couldn't wait until we got back to the hotel?"
I smile teasingly at him, and he grins back. The lipstick is deep, dark purple.
"If I did, nobody would see it but you." He slides an arm around my waist and winks. "That would be a shame, when it looks so good."
I roll my eyes and slip out of his embrace, making towards the exit. When my back is turned to him, I allow myself a smile. It does look good , I think, though I won't give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud.
"Jude, wait—"
With those long legs of his, Cardan catches up to me quickly. He puts a hand on my shoulder and spins me around to face him. I lift my chin to look at him, and his expression sends a chill down my spine. This face used to send unwanted images of our younger days to my brain—Cardan spitting on my shoes, pulling my hair, kicking my lunchbox. Nowadays, this wickedness sends my blood rushing south and fills me with memories of his clever fingers and his face between my legs.
"I was not done," he says as he circles my waist again, pulling me towards him sternly. "I have to debunk the claims the boy made."
"Fine," I say, and peck him quickly on the lips.
He chuckles. "You know that won't do, Jude dearest."
Cardan leans towards me. Instinctively, I part my lips and close my eyes. Even after all this time, I hate that he has this effect on me, even though I know it's not fair. I have spent my whole life training with a blade while he spent his training his mind and body to seduce and manipulate.
His lips claim mine and I all but melt into him. I forget where we are, how utterly exposed we are to the judgement of others. I seek out his tongue with mine and bite his lip the way he likes.
Cardan pulls away and I chase after his lips, desperate for more, until I feel his mouth on my neck. Slender fingers grip my chin, angling my head to allow him access.
I open my eyes and finally remember myself, where we are and how inappropriate this is—
"Cardan!"
He hums in question as his cruel mouth continues kissing its way up to my ear. His hand moves back towards my nape and tangles in my hair, pulling lightly.
"We're in—you can't just do that! People are—"
I look around, mortified. The mall is not that crowded, but I see people looking abruptly away when I look in their direction. A mother covers her child's eyes as she notices us. An old lady sneers.
I feel Cardan grin against my skin before dragging his teeth up my ear to nibble at the curved cartilage.
I give a small shove to his chest and he pulls away with a chuckle that curls my toes.
"You're shameless," I say.
"You look like you drank an entire bottle of faerie wine," he replies, then gives a quick kiss to my heating cheek.
When he pulls back, he inspects my face with narrowed eyes, then my neck. He lets out an impressed hum .
"It seems he was right. No marks."
I laugh and his eyes light up, a genuine smile forming on his dark lips.
"Will you buy more, then?" I ask.
"No. I prefer when it leaves marks."