“Where do you think you’re going? Stay home, you’re in no condition to go out.”
Condition to whom?!
“Says who? You? You’re just a hoofed reindeer!” I huffed, wriggling off my bed, my head spinning a little. “And if my mate gets to party with the whole wereball female team and steal girls like Archie told me he does, then I can do the same!” Minus the stealing.
The growl that came through the phone was low. It crawled up my spine and made my knees a little weak.
“You’re real quick to throw accusations, huh?” His voice might have been scary if I hadn’t been so tipsy. “One scroll through Instagram, and you’ve got him tried and judged.”
I snorted, spraying some mucus onto my chin. I hurried to my bathroom, a hand cupped to my nose.
“When social media is full of evidence, I don’t need to accuse anything.” I wiped my face. “It’s a fact.”
“So, you think your mate is a hit-and-run kind of guy, huh?” Was there a threat in his voice? I couldn’t tell.
“Yeah, someone who abandons women, including me,” I stated with confidence. The hurt came from the fact that he hadn’t reached out to me since the wereball conference, and it was clouding my judgment.
He went quiet for a second.
Then he laughed. Not a happy laugh. A dry, bitter one, like paper tearing in half.
“If that’s what you think,” he drawled, “who am I to deny it?”
There was a pause.
“And you know what? You’re right,” he added. “Hedoesabandon women. All the time.”
And I had no idea what that meant.
CHAPTER 22
YVAINE
Istumbled into the bedroom, the whiskey in my glass sloshing and spilling out onto Tiziano’s satin bedsheet.
His shirt was halfway unbuttoned, showing off a detailed tattoo of the heart muscle over his chest. His hair was combed back so perfectly that I was afraid of so much as moving the air around him.
He ran his eyes up and down my body, ignoring the spillage on his bed. “You look fantastic, girl!”
“Hey, you never tell me that!” Makena slapped his arm. She was simply gorgeous, wearing a deep halter crop top laced with a silver fringe and sequin mesh that she’d paired with low-waisted shorts and combat boots. Surely many necks would be dislocated tonight.
“Because you aren’t?—”
Slap.
“Arrgh, why did you do that? I was going to say you already get too many compliments, you impertinent brat!”
After the apéritif, which was the second of the night for me, we devoured giant plates of pasta with so much tomato and olive sauce that the fusilli were swimming in it.
“Ladies, it’s time…” Tiziano gathered us all in his arms. “…to slut up!”
We all changed again. I decided to go full Scottish.
“I never thought this would be a bad thing,” Amaia said, flipping through her dresses, “but my wardrobe isn’t slutty enough.”
“Bitchy is the new witchy, sister!” Makena dropped an arm over her shoulder.
“No damsels here, just queens—and glitchy. Mess with us, we go full witchy!” Amaia sang as she discarded a denim dress.
