“How is there another face on the back of your head?” I squeak.
“I did not want you to see that yet,” he snaps, gritting his teeth and stretching his neck in a way that looks painful.
“W-what is it?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound judgmental but knowing I’m probably failing miserably.
Remus pulls a small silver flask from his pocket—ornate and old-looking, with symbols etched into its surface that seem to shift in the colored light. He takes a sip of whatever’s inside, his throat working as he swallows, then does that painful neck-stretching thing again. I catch a whiff of something bitter and metallic, like copper pennies dissolved in wine.
When he settles with a sigh that sounds more relieved than anything else, his whole posture changes—looser, more relaxed.
“Meet my twin brother, Romulus,” he says, way too casually for someone introducing asecond person attached to his skull.
“Your twin—Why isn’t he moving?!” My heart pounds as the fairy-tale wonder crashes down around me, replaced by a cold dose of reality. I’ve been kidnapped by a creature with wings, a tail, andtwo faces. I mean, yes, technically I volunteered to be kidnapped, but that’s completely beside the point right now.
“He’s sleeping,” Remus says simply.
“Does he ever wake up?” I step forward, reaching for his shoulders to try to turn him around for a better look, but he blocks me by keeping his chest toward me. His hands grab my waist, and before I can blink, he’s lifting me and setting me down several feet away like I weigh nothing.
I make a startled noise as my feet hit stone again. He doesn’t let go of my waist, and just like before, my traitorous heart speeds up at his closeness. I blink, trying to clear the hormone-induced fog from my brain.
Wasn’t I just telling myself not to swoon?
“He’s not going to wake up for a long time,” Remus says, and there’s something evasive in his tone that sets off alarm bells.
When I inhale to ask what he means, all I smell is him—clean male musk and something wild and dangerous that makes my knees weak. God, it’s been way too long since I’ve been touchedby a man. A real man who looks at me like I’m something precious instead of something he’s settling for.
Remus grins, that wild glint back in his eyes. His hands linger at my waist, squeezing slightly, and I swat at them even as I notice how he squeezes a little more before letting go. Like he’s reluctant to stop touching me.
“Don’t worry, little one. It’s only you and me at this party for as long as we can manage.”
“Nothing you’re saying makes sense!” I declare, frustration bleeding into my voice.
“But you don’t want boring, do you?” he counters, stepping closer.
“How do you know what I want? Maybe I’m perfectly fine with boring. Boring is safe.” Even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. Boring got me nowhere. Boring got me a dead-end relationship and no job prospects and a mother who never missed a chance to remind me how I was wasting my potential.
He scoffs. “Safe? What fun is safety? There’s no adventure in safety.” He leans in, flashing that too-wide grin that should be unsettling but instead makes my pulse race. “And you’re a woman who wants adventure, aren’t you?”
I narrow my eyes at him, even as my body betrays me by responding to his proximity. “You know nothing about me. Or what I need.”
He’s staring right at me with those dark gray eyes, and I notice his face is chiseled in a way that seems almost too perfect—beautiful and unnerving, with full lips and that smile that curves too wide, like the Cheshire Cat.
“Oh, I want to hear all about your needs,” he says, and the way he emphasizes the last word makes it sound...gulp... incredibly sexual.
My mouth goes dry. Is he flirting with me? I’ve almost forgotten what that feels like. It’s been so long since someone looked at me with genuine interest instead of polite tolerance.
“Can we get back to the part where there’s a sleeping twin on the back of your head?” I ask weakly.
“Are you hungry?” he asks suddenly, completely changing the subject. “I bet you’re hungry. I know a place that makes the most delicious meals.”
I frown as he steps back. Is that a reference to my weight? My stomach drops as old insecurities rear their ugly heads. Michael used to make passive-aggressive comments about my appetite, especially in front of his friends.Oh, she’s always hungry,followed by snickers and sideways glances.
I cross my arms over my chest, walls slamming up so fast it makes my ears pop. “What do you mean by that?”
But Remus has already started heading down the stairs, his boots echoing on the stone steps as he moves with that same fluid grace. “Hmm?” he asks over his shoulder, barely turning to look back. The colored light from the stained glass windows catches in his dark hair as he descends. “Head down to the dining room. Eleven floors down. I’ll meet you there with dinner.”
And then—because apparently this day can get even weirder—he reaches one of the tall arched windows in the stairwell, unlatches it with practiced ease, andjumps right out.
“Hey!” I yelp, rushing to the window and grabbing the thick stone sill. The opening is large enough for his wings, and when I lean out, I can see him already soaring away over the treetops, those massive black wings beating powerful strokes against the late afternoon sky. The wind up here is fierce, whipping my hair around my face and making my eyes water.
