A Tale of Two Kingdoms (27 page)

“Mr… You know, really, the most interesting thing about you is that you chose Nightsong for a fake name. I don’t need stilts to look down on you. I could be lying face down on the floor and wouldn’t have any trouble.”

One of his brows arched. “Well. Well. Well. Honesty. Wasn’t expecting that.”

The facilitator’s voice rang out, “One minute.”

“Sixty seconds.”
His malicious grin was sexy in spite of its intent.
“Just long enough for me to say that I’ll bet your cunt is buttoned up tighter than your sweater. I’ll bet it’s so sanitary that it doesn’t even smell like pussy. A shame because I
like
the smell of pussy. For one thing it’s honest.”

Mercy didn’t think of herself as prudish, but hearing that tirade come from the mouth of a complete stranger sitting on the other side of white linen was shocking. While she was trying to make up her mind between blushing and blanching, he decided to add one parting comment.

“You know, hives is not a good look for you.”

“Time!”

She wasn’t about to allow that to be the last thing said between them. “You’re an authority of good looks? Have you seen a mirror? When did post-apocalyptic remnant become the new GQ? You look like an extra from a zombie movie set.”

“Time!”

He glanced toward the facilitator at the front of the room, who had repeated herself, more forcefully, for
their
benefit.

“Good. ‘Cause we’re done here.” He shoved the chair back as he stood, throwing his splayed hands out in front of him to punctuate his exit like a petulant teenager who’d been wronged.

“Excellent. Because I couldn’t have stood the smell a second longer.”

Three minutes later they were still standing at table seven, locked in an argument that seemed to be spiraling into a frenzy instead of winding down. While the other would-be speed daters turned spectators looked on, the facilitator kept helplessly calling “time” and was ignored.

Finally, Raif ended it by storming out of the restaurant and walked for two blocks in dense New York City pedestrian traffic before ducking into an alley. He stopped and put his forehead on the cold composition wall of the closest building.

“Gods’ teeth, why am I
such
an asshole? A big mouth, broken asshole?”

Fingers shaking, she gathered her purse and jacket without meeting the eyes of any of the onlookers. If she’d ever been more humiliated, she couldn’t remember when. She got almost to the end of the block before bursting into tears. So much for speed dating.

She was glad it was windy and cold for the six block walk back to Columbia. People would assume the color in her face was from weather and not from crying.

Other books by Victoria Danann.

The Order of the Black Swan, BOOK ONE

The Order of the Black Swan, BOOK TWO

The Order of the Black Swan, BOOK THREE

The Order of the Black Swan, BOOK FOUR

The Order of the Black Swan, BOOK FIVE

The Order of the Black Swan, BOOK SIX

Black Swan COLLECTED TALES, Books 1-6

The saga as it was meant to be told. Available everywhere.