My anger pegged in the red. My hands tightened into fists, my knuckles whitening as I tried to reel myself in. His accusation shouldn’t have pissed me off this bad, but this wasn’t about what he’d said, exactly. It was about Aunty Mommy and all the times she’d tried to drive the girls off, and how they never gave up on me. I’d done everything I could to protect them; I’d submitted to Aunty Mommy’s torture to protect them. And now this fucker had the nerve to accuse me of hurting Stacey?
I drew a breath and let it out, told myself to let it go. He didn’t matter. If I looked at him, I’d rip his head off, so I kept my gaze fixed on my glass. A minute passed. Before I was ready, he jumped on my silence.
“You’re not arguing,” he said. “You know I’m right.”
My brain short circuited and my mouth switched to autopilot. “On the contrary. I was making an effort to be calm and not rip your vocal cords out with my fingers. But let me see if I understand. You want the three of us to bail on Stacey, at which point you could step in and fill the void we leave behind, right?” I put on a confused face. “Isn’t that how abuse works? Isolate the victim from her friends, start telling her who she can talk to, maybe start slapping her around when she won’t obey? Out of curiosity, did you go to cop school to get tips on being a domestic abuser?”
His face clouded and red stained his cheeks. I didn’t let him say a word.
“We’re herfamily,you pretentious little prick, and you can damned well be sure we’ll be in her life long after you’re just a bad memory. You’re just some random dirtbag who thinks he knows what’s better for her than she does, so you try to run her life. Not only that, you do your dirty work behind her back. I’m fucking done sharing air with you.”
I needed out of that booth like I needed oxygen. If I stayed, I was going to do something I probably wouldn’t regret, but definitely should.
Thought didn’t enter into what I did next. Pure instinct and knowledge that came straight out of my genes guided me. In the blink of an eye I turned into smoke and swirled to the open side of the booth before solidifying back into myself. I had no idea how I did it, just that it generally happened in moments of strong emotion when I couldn’t otherwise escape.
I’d never done it in front of anybody but Damon, back when he was trying to kidnap me. Jen’s eyes widened and she looked utterly delighted. Meanwhile, Sergeant My-Shit-Don’t-Stink’s expression went from confused to bewildered and then ice-cold, his body coiling tight.
“How the fuck did you do that?” he demanded as he stood.
“Duh. Magic,” Jen said, as if that was a reasonable conclusion. Which, to be fair, it was, but since magic wasn’t supposed to be real, not the likeliest conclusion for anybody who hadn’t experienced it.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” he snapped and focused back on me. “How did you do that?”
I folded my arms, my chin jutting. I could have tried to cool things down, but why? Escalation was fine by me.
“Is it just impossible for you to believe the truth when it comes from a woman?It’s magic.” I then used said magic to shove him back down into his seat without moving a single muscle.
His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. His gaze locked on me in the same way he might look at an armed and dangerous suspect. At least he was smart enough to figure that out.
“Whatthe fuckare you?”
I rolled my eyes and snapped my fingers in front of him. “Focus, Mister Policeman. We’re not talking about me; we’re talking about how you can cure your asshole disease.”
He knocked my hand aside. “Magic isn’t real.”
“No? Then explain what I did.”
“You did something to hypnotize me.”
“Yep. I totally hypnotized you.” I waggled my fingers in the air in front of him. “You’re getting sleeeeepy….”
Jen laughed and he shot her an annoyed look, his attention snapping instantly back to me as if he was afraid I’d do something in the split second he turned away.
“Oh! I’ve got it,” I said. “I’m bionic. I’m a super secret government experiment. Or no! A mutant with superpowers! I’m a super villain. Quick, Jen, what’s my super villain name?”
“Razor Bitch? Iced Vengeance? No Fucks Left? Queen of the Night?”
“If it isn’t two of my favorite ladies.”
The husky male voice spun me around. Luke Galloway—Stacey’s tall, dark, gorgeous, and very slutty step brother—gave me a shit-eating grin and a flirtatious wink.
I rolled my eyes. Just what I didn’t need. Super Slutman. Now that was a super-villain name.
“You look good enough to eat,” he said, sliding an arm around my waist and pulling me against him.
His hand drifted lower. I grabbed it and twisted. He yelped and jerked away.
“Jesus, Beck! You don’t have to break my hand.” He flexed it and winced.
