Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters #6)- Kristy Cunning Page 0,62

speaking of a camel’s toe?

I blink a few times, the only action I can seem to make.

As she twists to check out her backside in a mirror, she speaks again. “And it’s tighter than that Catwoman suit I tried out my senior year, when I thought I wanted to be sexy at a Halloween party. I don’t get to be sexy, apparently, because the ass of it split. It wasn’t a sexy sort of split, either. Nooo. Part of my ass cheek poked out like a can of freshly popped biscuits, because the suit was that tight. I had to walk out, while everyone threw things at the lump of skin poking through the split, that gradually split more and more, carrying more biscuit-ass with it. Pretty soon, my whole ass was going to be squeezed out like a flowering blossom or something. Talk about the queen of all nightmares.”

This woman is possibly unstable.

She glances back to my eyes, studying me. I glance around the room, feeling my head turning, as just a bit more fog lifts.

“Vance, can you hear me? As much as I want you to say yes, I want you to also tell me you didn’t just hear all that,” she says with a notable amount of dread in her tone, as I study the curious room.

No one seems to notice us.

“What trickery is this?” I manage to ask at last, moving my gaze back to the witch before me.

She smiles very brightly for whatever reason, and she squeals as if in delight. Why the hell is she clapping her hands with so much excitement?

She is unstable. I’m certain of it now.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” I demand. “What have you done to them to keep them from seeing us? Answer me, witch.”

Her smile falls, and she gives me a glare.

“I guess it only half-way worked,” she says on a sigh, her look relaxing for a minute, as she taps her chin and studies me.

“What are you wearing?” I ask, annoyed by how many times my eyes dip to the outstandingly indecent amount of cleavage she’s exposing.

“It’s a long story. So you don’t know me?” she asks, moving closer, peering up at me with eyes far too soft and unguarded.

“You’re not of this time,” I decide. “Or you’ve been raised in isolation.”

“Both,” she says with a shrug, her very confusing smile spreading, as though these are great things to be proud of.

“Perhaps I’m the one unstable,” I mutter.

My mind still lagging, and my body still heavy, I examine her again.

Even though she’s dressed too wildly provocative for my tastes, she’s a lovely thing. And suspicious. Terribly suspicious.

“Who are you?” I ask again.

She takes a step closer, and my breath hitches, while my body fails to respond, when she reaches out and puts her hand over my heart.

“I’m January Violet Carmine.”

I arch an eyebrow. “And that’s supposed to give you permission to touch me?” I ask, given the fact I can’t do much of anything besides be a bit snide.

I don’t want her knowing my movements are restricted. She’s clearly a powerful witch.

I’ve not run across one this powerful before.

No one is powerful enough to do whatever it is she’s done to Idun.

The strong witch rolls her eyes.

“So much for our deep and powerful connection breaking the curse. I need to find a way to get myself in danger. But this is all a lot harder than I expected. The one time I get support for one of my ideas, I go and overestimate myself,” she says on a sigh that makes it seem as though she’s entirely too put-out.

If I could move my arm, I’d scratch my head right now.

This is all too puzzling, and I can’t even have the appropriate apprehension, because I’m entirely too intrigued by her. This isn’t me. She’s clearly cast a spell.

Her hand remains on my heart, and she leans over, placing her head on my chest.

My body tenses, because the contact is damn near stifling in my chest. My heart constricts so much that I swear it stops beating, and my breath freezes in my lungs.

“I wonder if it’d be as easy as having sex with you,” the brazen woman says with no preamble. “Letting you feel all those emotions you stir in me could jar you out of the trance. It seems easier than somehow making a memory threaten my life,” she says, as my fingers tingle, more and more sensation spreading, alerting me that I’ve been somewhat numbed.

She