“I like color,” I protest.
Briony’s friend makes a point of examining my dark gray pants and T-shirt. “Really?”
“I like Briony, don’t I?”
“Only like?” he asks me. “Because Dray and Beaufort have been confessing their little hearts out to the girl.”
I stare down at the sidewalk. I’m not good at talking about my feelings. I’ve told her how much I care, how important she is. But a word like love is hard to say. It comes with so many implications. If I love her, losing her will be so much worse. Then again, refusing to label the emotion won’t protect me from it.
“There’s a lot going on inside your head, isn’t there?” Fly asks me.
I snort.
“You’re not like the others. They talk, then think – especially the wolf.” He shakes his head. “You’re the opposite.”
“My magic is dangerous,” I explain, “I have a responsibility to think through my actions because they could be fatal.”
“Phew,” he says, blowing out his cheeks, “that sounds exhausting.”
When we return to Beaufort’s apartment, we find Briony wrapped in a fluffy dressing gown and pacing the main room, Dray laid out across the couch again and Beaufort sleeping on the other one.
“Where have you been?” Briony says, darting across the room towards us, coming to a skidding halt when she notices just how many bags I’m carrying.
“You bought all this stuff?” she hisses at Fly, Beaufort jerking awake.
“I told him to,” Thorne says. “I thought you might need choices.”
“Yes, but there’s one dress in particular I think you ought to wear,” Fly says. “It’s perfect for you.” He signals to me to lower all the bags and boxes to the ground and then he starts tearing them open and searching through them.
“Here it is!” he says, pulling a green full-length dress from the bag. It’s made from something silky that shimmers in the dusky light.
“That’s beautiful,” Briony says, stepping forward to stroke her hand down the material. Then something catches her attention, and she freezes,
“I can’t wear that.” She smiles, but it is fragile. “What other dresses did you buy?”
“Cupcake,” Fly says, shaking the garment her way. “This one is perfect for you. It’s the exact color of your eyes, it’s going to cling to all your curves and it looks like only a shadow weaver dating Beaufort Lincoln could afford to buy it.”
She shakes her head.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing, I guess I don’t like the shape.”
Fly gapes at her incredulously.
“Is it the back?” I ask.
She hesitates, then meets my gaze and nods.
“What about the back?” Fly asks.
“The dress is … I don’t know what you call it. But it’s cut low.”
“Yes, it’s backless, which is fucking sexy, Cupcake. And if you’re worried about your tits,” Dray jumps up onto his feet and growls at Fly, “I found some contraption that will keep them in place.”
“It’s too revealing. I’ll stand out.”
“All the dresses in Onyx are revealing.” Fly throws his hands up in the air. “You should have seen the people walking around. Very little clothing. You’ll stand out if you’re dressed up like your grandma.”
