Tarot Academy 4 - Sarah Piper Page 0,87

us, turns away from him. Stone-cold gives him the back of her head, like she can’t even bear the thought of his lips touching hers.

After months of watching the two of them make puppy-dog eyes at each other, singing their ridiculous songs, cuddling and cooing like a pair of lovesick kids, the sight of her flat-out rejection is more than unsettling.

But if Ani’s fazed by it, he’s doing a damn good job of keeping up the happy-go-lucky sideshow.

“Someone’s in a mood.” He rolls his eyes, then picks up the deck of Tarot cards from the bed, shuffling them as hard and fast as like a Vegas dealer, then flipping over the top five cards.

One, Five, Seven, Twenty, and his own, Trump Nineteen.

All reversed.

“That looks a bit ominous,” he says, tossing the rest of the cards across the bed, a move so blatantly disrespectful, I damn near smack him for it. “No wonder you’re all so glum.”

A knock on the doorframe catches our attention, and Carly peeks her head in. “Stevie? We’re ready.”

Stevie’s sigh of relief is massive and undeniable.

Rising from the bed, she scoops up her Tarot deck, not sparing a second glance for any of us.

“First time all of us are in the same bed,” Ani says, “and our girl bails. You believe this?”

I force a laugh, because the silence is getting pretty damn awkward. But no one else even cracks a smile.

“Where are you off to tonight, Miss Milan?” Cass asks.

“I’ve got plans.” Stevie heads for the hallway. I’m about to follow her out when she turns around and glares at me. “With the girls.”

“Is that a euphemism?” I ask, letting my gaze drift down to her breasts, cocking a smirk, waggling my eyebrows… Goddess, anything to make her laugh, to see the light in her eyes again.

But my usual charms fall flat, and Stevie turns away without another word, vanishing down the stairs with Carly.

“Rude.” Ani shrugs. “Was it something I said?”

“Maybe it’s just your face, gingersnap.” I give him a playful shove right off the edge of the bed, but my mood is anything but playful.

Stevie was right. This isn’t our Ani. Not all of him, anyway. Whether he’s dark or not, some vital part of him, some spark that made him whole and made him ours—it’s gone.

And I don’t know how— or even if—we’ll ever get it back.

Thirty

STEVIE

I’ve just lit the last candle on the back deck when Baz strolls out through the sliding door with Ani, the two of them laden down with a platter of raw meat, several bags of munchies, and a cooler full of beer and hard lemonades.

“Excuse me,” Carly says, hands on hips, shooting them both a death glare. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“What?” Baz asks. “We were planning to barbecue tonight.”

I head over and stand at Carly’s side, crossing my arms over my chest and doubling up on the death glare. “Sorry, boys. Take your meat back inside—this space is a DFZ.”

Ani cocks an eyebrow. “A what now?”

“Dick-Free Zone.” I glare pointedly at his crotch. “So unless you want to sacrifice that thing to the goddess or see it roasted on the barbecue, I suggest you get the hell back inside.”

“Oh, is that for us?” Nat saunters over, helping herself to the tray of meat in Baz’s hands. “Thank you!”

“But I—”

“Music!” I say suddenly, reaching into Ani’s pocket and stealing his phone. “You always have the best playlists.”

“You brought alcohol too?” Isla relieves Ani of his cooler, flashing a broad grin. “You guys thought of everything! Sooo sweet! Thanks!” Her smile drops. “Now go away.”

Baz blinks like a deer in headlights, reaching out for the long-lost tray of meat, but Nat’s already setting pieces of chicken and beef onto the grill, slathering them with the jerk sauce Isla made, the smoke and sizzle promising an excellent meal.

“Was there something else?” Carly asks, tapping her foot impatiently. “Or did you need a live demo of the consequences of violating the DFZ?”

“Why does he get to stay?” Ani thumbs toward Jareth, who’s preening on top of his favorite sandstone out back.

“Because unlike you guys, he doesn’t talk back.” I grab the bags of tortilla chips from the crook of Ani’s arm, then shove both boys back inside, slamming the door behind them.

“And don’t come back,” Carly calls after them, “unless you’d like to learn the true definition of a weenie roast.”

“Goddess, you’re a brutal bitch,” I tell her. “I think I might marry you after all.”

“Ehh, you’re not my type.