Keeping Secret (Secret McQueen) - By Sierra Dean Page 0,76

in it.

I splashed cold water onto my face, and when I straightened, his reflection was next to mine in the mirror. I yelped. “Christ, Holden, do I need to put a little bell on you?”

He continued to speak like I hadn’t even opened my mouth. “What I said was, I was here to see if you’re doing all right. After…you know.” His eyes drifted down to the gray scar on my side. It would whiten over time like the sword wound it was next to. But they’d never heal completely. That was silver for you. I had another white line on my arm and a second star-shaped one on my shoulder from the first assassin’s highway attempt.

For someone who was supposed to be able to heal anything, I was starting to show a lot of permanent damage.

“I’m fine.”

“Where’s your pet dog?”

With those four words he undid all the healing I thought I’d done, proving once and for all there were plenty of wounds I couldn’t keep from reopening.

“What did I say? Jesus, stop crying. I don’t do crying.” He ripped a wad of toilet paper off the roll and shoved it in my face. “Especially women crying. It makes them ugly.”

I hiccupped and almost laughed.

“You would find an insult funny, wouldn’t you?”

I wiped away the tears and threw more water on myself, taking a few shaky breaths to get myself back under control. I’d managed to stop before I got all raw and snot-nosed. There was no Kleenex left in my apartment after last night, between the tears and the tear-induced boogers. God, he was right, crying made people hideous.

“Sorry.”

“You should be, that was awful.” But he was smiling in a worried way.

“What did you find me to wear?”

“Well, I picked this, but I think I might need to go back and get something more absorbent.” He held up a bundle of red satin straps that bore no resemblance to anything that would cover me, but I knew better. I’d bought it, after all.

“Get out so I can change.” I shoved him towards the door.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Nothing you’re going to see again.” I slammed the bathroom door in his leering face.

When I came out a minute later I had made my hair into something resembling a French twist, I was wearing enough makeup to cover my swollen eyes, and had managed to make the puffiness work in my favor by emphasizing it with a lot of smoky eyeshadow. I looked squinty and mysterious.

The dress, too, had been transformed. It was no longer a motley collection of fabric strips. Once the dress was on it was a plunging V-neck with straps crisscrossing from front to back in a woven tapestry that would all come undone if someone were to pull the tie at the nape of my neck.

It was a dangerous dress, but right then it was what I needed.

Holden let out a whistle and handed me a pair of silver stiletto sandals. “Now there’s the Secret I know and…know.”

I tried to smile, but it didn’t quite work.

“Come on.” He wound his arm around my shoulder and pulled me towards the door. “Let’s get you to your adoring fans.”

I snorted. “Oh yes, they can’t get enough of me.”

“Well at least you’ll be dressed and ready for after.”

“After?”

He handed me the hot pink card that had been stuck to my fridge. Oh God, Sig wasn’t kidding. I really did need a fucking agenda. I think my stupid new fancy phone had a calendar. The card in my hand had clip-art images of martini glasses and handcuffs on it and said, She’s still single…but not for long.

Mercedes wasn’t exactly a Photoshop wiz, but the invitations were cute.

And I’d totally forgotten about it in the excitement and near-death of the last week and a half.

Tonight was my goddamned bachelorette party.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

My heels clacked on the tile floor of the council headquarters. I couldn’t recall ever seeing the space empty before, especially since nighttime was when vampires did all their work. But here I was, alone in the great room with nary a soul in sight, and all the lights were dimmed.

It was creepy as hell.

Holden had escorted me the whole way but had declined my offer to accompany me inside. He was going to wait at the small SoHo coffeehouse across the street until I was finished. I wondered why he refused to go to the perfectly good Starbucks two doors down, but I think most vampires were leery of Starbucks because