“Don’t say that,” my words come out in a panicked, half-screech as I back away.
Relentless waves of terror wash over me as I'm overcome by an unshakable dread.
“Why not?” He shakes his head while opening his hands. “It’s not like I’m under your spell, Goldie. I know all about your power problems, but I've felt this way about you for a while. I’m not like those other guys. I want you for you,” he insists.
A blast of cold shock goes through me. “What?” I ask. This makes everything so much worse.
“Maybe but my power is still affecting you. You can’t do this to Cinder,” I insist. “She’s the best person I know.”
He nears, his voice low as if trying to soothe me. “She’s great, but she’s notyou. And she knows it. We’ve been fighting because she knows she’s not enough for me. Because she knows you are so much better than she is. Her insecurity, she tries to hide it, but I see it swelling and taking over more and more each day. It started the day I met you.”
That was months ago.
My words race to get out, to make him understand. “Cinder is better than me. She’s loyal, she’s smart, she’s creative and has this life wisdom I don’t have.”
Lysander shakes his head. “Sure, she’s all those things, but Goldie, I want you. A categorical list of her positive attributes doesn’t compare.”
“I can’t—” is all I can get out before I practically run out of the room like I’ve been set on fire.
As soon as I exit, I run smack dab into Cinder. Her violet eyes bounce back and forth between Lysander, who hovers behind me in the locker room, and me. For a girl who often appears unaffected by almost everything, she looks at me with what I can only describe as accusation.
“Guys, a little help,” Snow calls out in a strained voice. She’s by herself behind the bar and swamped by patrons. The fanclub is restless and I can tell by their faces, they aren’t happy with my absence.
Cinder doesn’t say a word. She simply turns on her heel and goes to rescue Snow. I follow along, ready to pull Cinder aside and explain though I don’t know how the faefucks, I’m going to do that.
I don’t get a chance to talk to Cinder.
But I do with Brexley who is still at the bar. “What the hell, Brex? You couldn’t drain my power for me?”
His scarred eye studies me in a way I don’t love. Like I'm not about to like what he’s about to say. “You’re too powerful, Goldie. I can’t stop it. Your magic is exploding out of you in sun flares. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Damn magic cookies. Never again.
Without Ted here, the male fan club reconvenes and there is an edge building to the crowd. Wanting a quick solution, I turn to Red who stands next to him looking equally concerned.
“Take my powers. Eat them with your magic so I don’t have them anymore.”
Red's expression turns to pity. “I can’t do that.”
“No, you can,” I rush to assure her. “You have my full consent.”
She exchanges a glance with Brexley. “Even if I weren’t forbidden from ever doing it again, I wouldn’t do that to a friend. Goldie, these powers are a part of you. It’d be like I’m robbing you of your sense of smell or hearing. I can’t do that to you.”
The levee breaks, and the fan club loses it at not having my attention.
One of the men barrels around the end of the bar and comes straight for me. Seeing one person has broken the boundary, a second, then third guy hop over the sticky bar, knocking drinks over. As they close in, panic strangles me. I’m a trapped animal, trying to avoid their greedy clutches as they reach out for me.
Brexley and Red fight the crowd from their end, but pandemonium has fully broken.
“Hey,” Snow yells, getting their attention. She grabs a bottle and breaks it on the edge of the bar, gripping the neck of the makeshift weapon of jagged glass. “Everybody back the faefucks up.” She may be tiny, but violence gleams from her bright blue eyes with surprising ferocity.
There is only the slightest pause, but either the men did the math and know they outnumber us, or they don’t care.
More of them cross the barrier of the bar, eager to get at me, and there is no way out.
Someone yanks on my hair, while another presses his hot lips against my throat. Hands clutch and painfully squeeze at my breasts. The scream that rips out of me is unrecognizable.
I blink and suddenly I’m released. Cool air surrounds my body instead of the hot press of men trying to tear a piece off me. Something thrums under my skin, like a motor gradually winding down. My hand finds the solid wood of a familiar desk as I steady myself.
