problem.” She backed up a step. “I get it.” She made finger quotes. “You guys want to talk.”
Dani shot back into the gym, closing the inner doors behind her to give us more privacy.
“I like her.” I passed over his phone before I forgot. “She’s doesn’t take crap from anyone, huh?”
“Dani is my first line of defense.” He woke his cell to check his messages. “She’s a good kid.”
A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows, and he angled the screen so we could read the first text and then the second and then the third together.
>>You two have put me off long enough.
>>I expect you and Hadley at dinner.
>>Wednesday night.
When Tisdale Kinase, the alpha of the Atlanta gwyllgi pack, invites you to a family dinner to discuss your intentions toward her only son and heir, you accept. Unless you’re me. Then you fake the flu for a week. This gave me three days to relapse or think up a better lie.
“Does that read as attendance optional to you?” I angled my head. “That’s how I interpret it.”
“Hadley.”
“Fine,” I huffed. “Tell her royal highness I’ll see her then.”
Most Atlantans called Midas the pack prince for good reason, so the title wasn’t a stretch.
Thumbs flying over the screen, he edited my response to make it alpha—and mother—appropriate.
“Momma’s boy,” I coughed into my fist then cleared my throat. “Must be those darn allergies again.”
Midas didn’t rise to the bait, which was a pity, but he did flash me her response.
>> Steak or chicken?
“Is this a wedding rehearsal?” I joked then sobered when he didn’t laugh. “Midas?”
“We’ll go with steak.” He fired off one last text then pocketed his cell. “See you later.”
“Midas.”
“I’ll bring home dinner.”
“Midas.”
“Be safe out there.”
“Midas.”
He backed through the door and shut it behind him with a soft click.
A pathetic imitation of a gwyllgi snarl curled my lip as I raised my fist to pound on the door, or on him.
“Forget Prince Charming,” a snarky voice rang out behind me. “I got a hot tip you’re going to love.”
A hard jerk was as far as I let my startled jump make it before I crushed the impulse flat.
Ambrose, however, glided across the pavement in an oily slick that puddled beneath Remy.
Tonight she paired shredded black tights underneath a sparkly black leotard topped with a frilly neon-green tutu. Her combat boots weighed more than she did, and she had added spiked metal studs to the toes since I saw her last. A lace half glove covered her left hand, and her nails had that glow-in-the-dark murky tint to them. Her makeup matched, and there was a lot of it.
“The eighties called.” I mimed holding up a phone. “They want Madonna back.”
“Midas is right about one thing.” She bared her needlelike teeth. “You’re not funny.”
Ambrose bounced his shoulders in mocking laughter that made me want to stab him.
More than usual.
“He smiles at my jokes.” I buffed my nails on my tank top. “He even laughed once.”
“He also wants in your pants.” She snorted. “I could fake a giggle if it got me laid too.”
I almost said Midas isn’t ready for what’s in my pants, but I didn’t want to give her ammo to use against him.
Aside from snuggles, nibbles, and smooches that left me hot and him bothered—if the hardness where his hips tucked against my backside were any indication—sleep was all we had done together. So far.
“Walk with me.” I waved her on. “I need to get home and shower.”
“No time.” She mashed a button on her cell that had mine chiming with an incoming text. “You’ll have to go as is.”
“Go?” After wrestling my phone free of my armband, I pulled up our thread. “Where?”
“I forwarded the deets I got from Seven.” She snapped out a mock salute then started walking backward down the craggy sidewalk. “I’ve got to get to work.” She grinned. “So do you.”
Remy was fae. A macalla, if you wanted to get technical. Or simply an echo in layman’s terms. She could split herself into eight sentient halves, or halves of halves, or halves of halves of halves, as the case may be. Make that seven, since Eight had been reabsorbed into the collective upon her death.
In addition to taking over my Peachy Keen Sheets kiosk at the mall, Remy dispatched her other selves on intel-gathering missions across the city to give me more time to focus on nailing my POA apprenticeship.
Goddess knows, I needed all the help I could get with the witchborn fae coven still at