Witch In Charge - Celia Kyle Page 0,14

about to decline when she noticed Ronun slyly watching them.

“I'm in!” she said much louder than was strictly necessary—unless she wanted Ronun to overhear.

“Great! I'm going home for a power nap. I'll text you the address. Meet you there later?”

“You bet. It’s just what I need right now. Nice to know I’m still in demand.”

“It wouldn’t be a party without you, new girl.”

Kelly grinned as Holly left the room, knowing that Ronun had to have heard their conversation. At least he now knew that plenty of people appreciated her company, even if he was determined not to be one of them.

Six

Thanks to her bum steer of an evening back in the dining hall, the party was in full swing by the time Kelly poked her nose in. Which was exactly how she liked it. There were very few things she hated more than standing around doing what she could to drink a party’s lame early birds into objects of interest.

She rolled up on a house already thumping with music and crackling with boozy conversation. That familiar tingle warmed her stomach. She was in her element.

After being thoroughly snubbed by Ronun after he so chivalrously rescued her from Louie's ire, she would have dearly loved a cry of familiarity to rise up as she walked into the main room. “Hey, everybody, look! Kelly’s here! Hooraaaaaaay!!” While that might have soothed her bruised ego a bit, there was also serious comfort in the anonymity a party allowed. Unless she wanted to be noticed, that is.

“Hey, girl!” Thankfully, Ryan's glowing, familiar face appeared from the mass of sweaty dancers. “I was wondering when you were going to show up!”

At least somebody was happy to see her.

“Shouldn’t The Night Sparrows be playing or something?”

“We’re between sets,” he shrugged, the wings poking through his fiery red suede jacket glistened in the half-light. “Honestly, though, house music is good enough for this crowd. Honey, these folks are dee-runk!”

“Then I’m behind.” Kelly flashed her best party girl smile.

“Not for long. Now that you’re here, the party can finally get started.”

They elbowed their way to the kitchen, where the countertop was groaning under the weight of more bottles than seemed reasonable for the number of partygoers. Impressive feat.

“Jeez,” she whispered hungrily at the sight of it.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Ryan flapped a hand as he spilled out shots for them. “There’s more over there.” Kelly looked to see the dining table glittering with a similar load. “And a keg in the basement.”

She had already downed her first shot, then swallowed another in short order. Letting out a whoop, she looked among the bottles and plucked up one about two-thirds empty. Hey, she was trying to be responsible, what with her new job and all.

“What are we doing up here,” she asked. “Lead me to this keg of which you speak!”

The words pealed from her throat like a battle cry. A chorus of cheers went up around her. That was the affirmation she'd been looking for.

Kelly Fucking Holloway is here, bitches! You better look out!

In full truth, she was the one on the lookout. As they wove their way through the dancers swaying under the swell of thumping canned music, she kept more than the corner of her eye trained for Ronun’s shape. A little sizzle in her stomach told her she’d know it in an instant. Then again, maybe it was just the booze sitting on what little she had eaten before heading out.

Not for nothing, but…she looked cute.

Okay, so maybe her little tête-à-tête with Louie wasn’t the only reason she was late. After work, she'd scurried home to turn herself out for what remained of the evening. Party gear was one of her specialties. She loved few things more than turning as many heads as she could.

The skirt was short enough to be immodest, but long enough to keep her from being outright vulgar. She was a lady, after all. Her sheer black thigh-highs came up just high enough to reveal a broad ribbon of pale flesh below her hemline. That ribbon managed to catch a number of eyes as she and Ryan skipped down the stairs to the basement.

Basements were her favorite places at a party. There was something illicit about the very location which thrilled her. Plus, the cool—often damp—walls were a welcome reprieve from the muggy hedonism of the dance floor. Which she had every intention of visiting as soon as she was drunk enough to capitalize on it.

“Madam,” Ryan said in an affected accent.