A blush stains the redhead’s cheeks, and I can’t tell if it’s from my use of the wordmotheror the tattoo she can’t stop staring at.
“I’ve never been to England.” The brunette nudges her blushing counterpart unsubtly, “Perhaps you could take us there.”
She gasps, “I would love to go to England! I’ve always wanted to wear a Wrexham jersey.”
“That’s Scotland you’re thinking of. Don’t be so dumb, Anastasia.”
I cough gently, “Actually, the Wrexham team is based in Wales-
“I’mthe dumb one? You were the one who said the new guy was Australian!”
Oh, God.
“No, I didn’t. I said he was British andyousaid those accents sound the same.”
“How would they sound the same? They are from two different places!”
Inching back from the bickering women, I’m about to turn and run when a slender hand squeezes my shoulder.
“Don’t mind the ugly stepsisters.” A puff of warm air hits my ears, the sudden proximity shifting the hair on the back of my neck, “Their party etiquette leaves much to be desired.”
“Is that so?” Fighting the urge to shudder, I turn around slowly, trying to keep her hand from grazing the ridge on my back, “Doesn’t seem like proper etiquette to insult your guests, either.”
Evelyn White smiles, her teeth small and pointy in a bitterly pink mouth.
“I did not realize the devil was insulted so easily.” Her eyes drop to the art piece on my neck, her thumbnail digging intothe canine snarling back at her, “Would it be better to lie than to speak the honest truth?”
“Not all truths should be spoken.”
“Ah, a man who enjoys the bliss of ignorance. I would expect nothing less from an international fugitive.”
I step back, forcing her hands off me. Evelyn studies me with a knowing smile, her hazel eyes twinkling with something far too deadly to be amusing.
At first glance, she seems older than any of the students here. Thick, grey hair falls like a curtain down to her waist, the silver strands held back by a black scarf studded with diamonds. The dichotomy between her youthful face and her ancient hair is a bit off-putting, the smooth skin and sweeping lines of purple eyeshadow making her look like a teenager who used the wrong colour of dye.
Based on the reports I’ve read, Evelyn White is just a bit older than me at twenty-seven, but nothing about her posture or tight corset hints at a woman closing in on thirty.
“It would seem we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.” Grabbing her hand, I make a show of bending down to kiss it, “Thank you for the invitation, Miss White.”
“The pleasure is all mine.”
Her eyes sweep down my body, the sensation similar to sleeping in a bath full of ants. Discomfort pricks at my skin, the heavy weight of her gaze all but piercing through my armour.
“Would you like something to drink? Or something to eat, perhaps.” Her smile widens as she sweeps a hand towards the towers of food, “We have plenty to go around.”
“I’m alright, thanks.”
“Are you sure? You look thirsty.”
She’s smiling at me again, showing a set of teeth that would be better suited for a shark. Given my blood is already in the water, I think it’s fair to say she’s gotten a taste for it already.
“Don’t think so, darling.” Leaning in close, I take a turn whispering in her ear, “I’ve heard your concoctions can be quite... potent.”
My lips brush her ear and now it’s Evelyn’s turn to shudder. Dancing my fingers across her waist, the teasing pressure is just enough to make her lean in closer.
“I’ve also heard your potions are made in this very room.” Pressing my lips to her neck, I gently kiss the pulse hammering beneath her skin, “I would love to see where the magic happens.”
Her eyes flutter closed, just for a moment, and I use it to my advantage.
