It’s tradition in Brume to lock lips with someone for good luck at the stroke of midnight. That’s how I got my first kiss. I was fourteen, and Romain, Gaëlle’s then twelve-year-old stepson, rose onto his tiptoes to smack his mouth against mine.
Raucous laughter rises from one corner of the room.Speak of the devil. . . Romain, now fifteen, is chatting with some other kids his age, his wheat-blond hair shimmering as brightly as the crystallized clockface dangling over his head.
Alma must’ve followed my line of sight, because she says, “He’s sort of cute now that he’s nearly grown-up.”
“You aresucha cougar.”
“Says the girl who uses his lips as a good luck charmeveryyear.”
I redden. “Only because he always volunteers, and I don’t have the heart to turn him down.”
As though he hears us discussing him, Romain’s brown gaze surfs through the sea of pointy witch hats toward us. The second his eyes alight upon us, he flashes a dimply grin and saunters over. He’s so tall now thatI’dneed to get on my tiptoes to reach his mouth, but he’s still a kid with his rounded jaw and splash of acne. A good kid. Although I had bigger dreams for my first kiss, all in all, it wasn’t so bad.
Alma tracks her gaze up his lanky body. “Dude, did you grow another foot since Thanksgiving?”
His grin strengthens. “Nice mini-hat, Alma.”
“And this is why I like this guy.” She latches on to his arm. She’s touchy-feely and gets in people’s spaces. It used to drive me insane until I understood that her need to touch others is visceral. “Any other guy would’ve commented on my tits or ass, but nope. Not this one.”
Romain’s dimples deepen so fast I expect them to leave a permanent imprint.
Alma cranes her neck. “What are you doing at the stroke of midnight, Romain?”
He glances at me, fuzzy jaw pinkening against the lacy white collar of the chemise he’s paired with a black cape. He looks more vampire than warlock. Then again, warlocks don’t exist, and if they did, they might be into capes and froufrou shirts.
“Or rather,whom are you doing?” Alma adds seductively.
I shake my head and laugh. To think Papa worries forhersafety. We should be worrying for the poor boys of Brume.
“I, uh . . .” He rubs the back of his presently brick-colored neck. “Cadence?”
Alma winks at me. “She has a groomstick all lined up.”
Romain raises a blond eyebrow. “Groomstick?”
“Don’t ask.” I shake my head some more. “Seriously, though, you don’t need to take pity on meeveryyear.”
“It’s tradition, not pity.”
I sigh. He really is sweet. If only Adrien could be as sweet. Of its own accord, my gaze stretches back to him. He’s no longer chatting with the science professor; he’s now making the rounds, grin in place. Everyone loves the young, brilliant, handsome professor of history, especially since he’s lost his mother. Every girl and her mother want to coddle him.
He catches me staring and smiles. My heart catapults against my ribcage. Which is all kinds of silly since he smiles at me often. He smiles at everyone often. Affability is as much part of his nature as flirtatiousness is part of Alma’s.
“If it doesn’t work out, come find me, okay?” Romain says, and I blush when I realize he’s trailed my eyes’ trajectory.
I flash him a grateful look, but then my gratitude turns to astonishment when I spot a head full of wild black curls over Alma’s shoulder. The boy I bumped into near the cemetery is here, in my house, studying the oil painting of Viviene trapping Merlin in a cave.
When he strokes a gloved finger along the ornate, gilt frame, I stick my half-drunk glass of champagne in Alma’s hands, tell her and Romain I’ll be right back, then weave through the crowd.
“I don’t think your pockets are large enough.”
The boy pivots to face me, his brow going from furrowed to smooth. “Whatever are you insinuating, Bellatrix Lestrange?”
Bellatrix Lestrange?His Harry Potter allusion temporarily makes me forget what I rushed over to say.Right .. . the painting.
“I’m insinuating that you’re clearly not here for the party.” I nod toward his attire—slim gray jeans, black turtleneck, leather gloves.
“Why? Because I left my magic wand at home?”
