Incipient A Dark Paranormal Romance - Bianca Scardoni Page 0,51

about that food?” I asked sheepishly, changing the subject as I tossed my change of clothes on the bed.

Trace’s dimples pressed in as he continued to watch me, his face impassive. “What are you in the mood for?”

“What are my options?”

He laughed huskily. “Literally anything in the world.”

I flattened my palms on my hips and fixed him with a look. “Oh, you’re going to port us to Greece for some Greek food, are you?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I will if you want Greek food,” he answered, completely serious.

Dang. He wasn’t even kidding, and with his ability to teleport himself anywhere in the world (and beyond), he could totally do it. “I think we’ve had enough adventure for one day. How about we just keep it simple and order some pizza?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said as he pushed off the desk and made his way over to me. All the light in the room felt as though it were moving with him—competing for a chance to illuminate him. “Is that what you want?” he asked, way too seductively for something that had nothing to do with sex.

I mean, at least I didn’t think it had anything to do with sex. Of course, it didn’t have anything to do with sex! We were talking about food, not sex, for crying out loud. Oh, my god, stop thinking about sex!

“Jemma?” Trace prompted when I stood there like a total doorknob.

“Yup, pizza’s what I want. Let’s do pizza. I mean, totally, let’s…order that pizza.” I inwardly cringed, wishing with every cell in my body that the accent rug would jump up from the ground and ram itself into my mouth.

“Pizza it is.”

“Yes. Great. Pizza.” Kill me now.

His brows knitted as he examined me. “You okay?” he asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.

Nope. Not at all. “Yeah, totally.”

“Okay…”

“Just really excited for that…pizza.” No seriously, someone please shoot me dead.

“Alright.” He laughed as he pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll order the pizza and meet you downstairs.”

“Awesome. Sounds like a plan,” I said and then watched as he left the room, quietly closing the door behind himself.

As soon as the coast was clear, I buried my cherry-red face in my hands and then openly cringed at myself for the next three and a half minutes.

After taking a quick shower in the guest bathroom, I wrapped the plush terrycloth towel around myself and made my way to the vanity. Wiping my hand across the steamed mirror, I looked up and sighed at the reflection staring back at me.

I looked like roadkill.

No, scratch that. Wet roadkill.

My eyes appeared sunken and tired, and my skin looked like it hadn’t seen the sun in years, a consequence of the perpetual overcast bestowed upon Hollow Hills. And then there was my hair. My once beautiful, shiny hair had seen much better days, and much better conditioning masks. The ends looked fried and in desperate need of a trim.

Unfortunately, my life wasn’t conducive to beauty salon visits and pampering sessions anymore, and without Taylor there to crack the whip, I was barely managing to keep a non-expired tube of mascara around.

Feeling dejected, I picked up my wet brush and ran it through my long dark hair, doing my best to get out the tangles before pulling it back into a high ponytail. It was as good as it was going to get so there was no point in dwelling on my subpar appearance. And lucky for me that I was too hungry to care anyway.

The only thing I wanted to do was stuff my face full of pizza and then snuggle myself back into Trace’s arms.

Obviously, I was going to skip that last part, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t what I wanted to do.

“Pizza should be here in ten minutes,” said Trace as I walked into the living room several minutes later. He had been lounging on the sectional, looking at something on his phone when his eyes flicked up to mine.

And then they stayed there.

I wasn’t sure what he was seeing but judging by the heated look in his eyes it certainly wasn’t the wet roadkill that I’d seen in the mirror just moments before. That was the thing about boys in love. They seemed to see you with rose colored glasses no matter how low you were currently setting the bar for yourself.

I rolled my eyes at him and then took a seat on the couch beside him, still making