piped up like a screaming teapot, telling her that he’d been a gentleman all along. He’d still been kind enough to teleport her back to her broom with a cranberry in his eye. That was downright chivalrous.
It just would have been extremely convenient if Dred could have felt the least bit territorial, if only for a moment.
She didn’t like saying no to something so simple as a dance.
It was rude, but she didn’t like Belledare.
That hissing voice started talking again and reminded her that she didn’t like Shadowins either, but she had made up her mind to have wild, passionate sex with him. So, a dance with someone else she didn’t like couldn’t hurt. Could it?
“Come on, Mids. Are you still mad at me for this thing with Tally?”
She was still very mad at him for the “thing with Tally.”
He’d not only broken her heart, he’d broken Tally’s trust in people in general. Middy turned her face into Dred’s shirt.
“Reporters from Magickal Mayhem are watching. Unless you want your face splashed all over tomorrow’s paper as the witch that was too good to dance with the local hero, I suggest you do it,” Dred whispered in her ear.
Middy found herself being pulled into Tristan’s arms. He was just as warm as Dred and smelled almost as good, but it wasn’t the same. There were no cracked-out butterflies slam dancing in her stomach when he touched her.
“Smile,” Tristan said before he turned them to face the photographer.
She was too startled to refuse and found what seemed to be a hundred lights flashing in her face. Middy was sure she was going to look like she’d been chewing on tinfoil, from the pained smile she’d plastered to her face.
Great. Now she was going to get hate mail from screaming fan girls who all thought that Tristan Belledare was some kind of saint. Then there was Tally, but she expected to be there to explain the situation to her friend when the paper arrived. It had taken Tally a long time to deal with what Tristan had done to her. Middy wasn’t sure if Tally had ever really gotten over him. Now, this was going to be shoved in her face. It would look like the worst kind of betrayal. Tally had been so in love with him and she’d thought Tristan loved her, too. He’d said he did. Then she’d caught him with another witch and when poor Tally had asked him if he’d ever really loved her, he’d said no. It had shattered her friend’s heart into a million little pieces.
“Thanks, Tristan. Now, even Tally is going to hate me tomorrow. What do you want?”
“To warn you,” he said, still smiling for the reporters.
“Keep smiling, Mids.”
“My face already hurts from smiling, you witchinizing bastard. Spill.” She’d hear him out because he’d been friends with her older brothers when she’d been a witchling, but that was all he was getting from her.
“Dred Shadowins is evil,” he whispered in her ear. “It doesn’t matter that he gave you the money for the Masque.
He has it to spare. Don’t let him fool you.”
“Fool me into what, Tristan?” She fought the urge to add: “The same way you fooled Tally?” But she didn’t want to give the reporters any more ammunition than they already had about Tally’s humiliation. It had already been splashed over the headlines enough when it had happened.
Middy still remembered the pain in Tally’s eyes that it had been front-page news. It made her sick.
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” The way he touched her changed, his fingers lingering on her cheek, his breath was still soft against her ear. It was more intimate. A caress and Middy didn’t like it. “What about Tally?” She hoped that would be a sharp slap of reality. If she didn’t know better, she’d say that Tristan was trying to make her think that he had feelings for her. Tristan was handsome, but even if she’d been interested, he was the bastard who’d betrayed her friend. That wasn’t a line Middy would ever
It just would have been extremely convenient if Dred could have felt the least bit territorial, if only for a moment.
She didn’t like saying no to something so simple as a dance.
It was rude, but she didn’t like Belledare.
That hissing voice started talking again and reminded her that she didn’t like Shadowins either, but she had made up her mind to have wild, passionate sex with him. So, a dance with someone else she didn’t like couldn’t hurt. Could it?
“Come on, Mids. Are you still mad at me for this thing with Tally?”
She was still very mad at him for the “thing with Tally.”
He’d not only broken her heart, he’d broken Tally’s trust in people in general. Middy turned her face into Dred’s shirt.
“Reporters from Magickal Mayhem are watching. Unless you want your face splashed all over tomorrow’s paper as the witch that was too good to dance with the local hero, I suggest you do it,” Dred whispered in her ear.
Middy found herself being pulled into Tristan’s arms. He was just as warm as Dred and smelled almost as good, but it wasn’t the same. There were no cracked-out butterflies slam dancing in her stomach when he touched her.
“Smile,” Tristan said before he turned them to face the photographer.
She was too startled to refuse and found what seemed to be a hundred lights flashing in her face. Middy was sure she was going to look like she’d been chewing on tinfoil, from the pained smile she’d plastered to her face.
Great. Now she was going to get hate mail from screaming fan girls who all thought that Tristan Belledare was some kind of saint. Then there was Tally, but she expected to be there to explain the situation to her friend when the paper arrived. It had taken Tally a long time to deal with what Tristan had done to her. Middy wasn’t sure if Tally had ever really gotten over him. Now, this was going to be shoved in her face. It would look like the worst kind of betrayal. Tally had been so in love with him and she’d thought Tristan loved her, too. He’d said he did. Then she’d caught him with another witch and when poor Tally had asked him if he’d ever really loved her, he’d said no. It had shattered her friend’s heart into a million little pieces.
“Thanks, Tristan. Now, even Tally is going to hate me tomorrow. What do you want?”
“To warn you,” he said, still smiling for the reporters.
“Keep smiling, Mids.”
“My face already hurts from smiling, you witchinizing bastard. Spill.” She’d hear him out because he’d been friends with her older brothers when she’d been a witchling, but that was all he was getting from her.
“Dred Shadowins is evil,” he whispered in her ear. “It doesn’t matter that he gave you the money for the Masque.
He has it to spare. Don’t let him fool you.”
“Fool me into what, Tristan?” She fought the urge to add: “The same way you fooled Tally?” But she didn’t want to give the reporters any more ammunition than they already had about Tally’s humiliation. It had already been splashed over the headlines enough when it had happened.
Middy still remembered the pain in Tally’s eyes that it had been front-page news. It made her sick.
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” The way he touched her changed, his fingers lingering on her cheek, his breath was still soft against her ear. It was more intimate. A caress and Middy didn’t like it. “What about Tally?” She hoped that would be a sharp slap of reality. If she didn’t know better, she’d say that Tristan was trying to make her think that he had feelings for her. Tristan was handsome, but even if she’d been interested, he was the bastard who’d betrayed her friend. That wasn’t a line Middy would ever
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