Fanged Love - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,68

her disappointment comes from a place of friendship and loyalty. And also deep-seated, codependent, obsessive tendencies. As is common when one is in the presence of such magnetic masculinity. I’ve been reading up. Psychology Today. I’m currently on issue No. 2, 1971. Very riveting, this concept of feminism. Do women truly find being in charge satisfying? Only five hundred and eighty-four more issues to go.

“I am sorry,” I say. “I should not have blamed you. If I had wanted a successful outcome, I should have done it myself instead of leaving it to a simpleton.”

Neli takes my hand, opens my fingers and wraps them around her throat with both hands.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” She squeezes harder, pushing my fingers into her neck. “Trying to free myself.”

I jerk my hand away. “Stop it. People are looking, and now is not the time for your odd, twenty-first-century parlor games. I am not down with this…this…Sixty Spades whatever thing I read about in Cosmo.” I really should fly more often. I learned so much from all the “bingeing” and “chilling,” internet surfing, and magazines.

“It’s Sixty Shades, Boz. Sixty Shades of Hay. Not spades of hay. Wait. Or is it Socks? Or…Shades of Gray Socks?” Neli groans and scrubs her face with her hands. “Balls. Who can keep up with humans?”

“Irrelevant. I am the only one you must keep up with. Please try. I know it is difficult.”

“Why did I have to go on a rampage in your honor and kill all the witches? I probably could have paid one to free me,” she mumbles.

What was that? “You did that for me?” I ask, feeling quite touched.

“Never mind. It’s all watery broomsticks under the bridge.”

Sometimes, I feel as though Neli is in her own world. “As you wish. So what is the plan? We must have one to win her back.”

“How should I know? After my nightmare of an attempt to get her to come around, I figured you could lay on the old Bozzy magic and charm her tonight. And the ball tomorrow night would’ve sealed the deal with your grace and elegance on the dance floor.” My chest puffs with pride until she continues, “But she flat out skipped town. She told her parents she had food poisoning and that you offered to fly her home to recover. Really, she bought her own flight.”

This is a disaster. “Her family is broke, and Stella cannot afford such an expense.” My mind quickly shuffles to images of Stella having to sell her maidenhead at the local market simply to pay for her passage home. That was my maidenhead. Mine!

“Uh-oh. Your right eye is twitching. That’s your warlord face. What are you going to do, Boz?”

“After I find out the name of the scoundrel who deflowered my bride next to a pile of gourds and tie his legs in a knot?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

I shake off my anger. “Never mind. I will allow Stella time to digest. Perhaps the distance will make her long for me.”

“That’s it? That’s your grand gesture to win her heart?” Neli’s mouth falls open.

Not enough? All right. Thinking… I scratch my scruffy chin. If I cannot win her over directly, then perhaps there is another way to her heart. I know! “I will focus my efforts on the very thing that makes her heart happy. The one thing she values most in this world.”

Neli’s face turns sheet white, a startling contrast to her black dress that makes her look nearly vampirific. “Oh no. Please don’t tell me you’re going to take her family hostage and force her to marry you.”

“No. Although that is a very fine idea. However, I think winning them over is a more prudent plan if I wish to spend eternity with her and not worry about being staked in my coffin each night.”

“Agreed. So…?”

“So, you will point out the judges to me.”

“Boz. No.” Neli groans.

“Yes.”

“No. Stella will not be happy if you do what I think you’re doing.” She shakes a finger at me, and I notice she’s painted her fingernails red.

Still can’t resist her whoring ways, I see. She is lucky I care for her so much, or I would have her fingernails removed to teach her a lesson.

“Then we will make sure she never finds out,” I say. “So cool your jets.” Read that helpful phrase in Men’s Magazine. Right after I laughed hysterically over an article about pills for human men who can’t get “stiffies.” Losers.