Not only have I already seen the movie, but I was on the set with Lisa and Calanthe, so I got to meet the healed humans. I’m not one to weep, yet my eyes had prickled nonstop. I’d passed it off as an allergic reaction to antiseptic fumes when Calanthe asked, point-blank, if Electra Serran was weeping.
I didn’t weep—not now and not as a kid. Not even when my mother stabbed me with needles to siphon my blood, telling me it was to rid me of my infection. That I needed to get the disease out before it killed me. If only I’d understood how to wield thatdisease.
“You should watch the movie,” I say, without glancing toward the man staring at my face with the intensity I longed to find in Malachi’s gaze.
Cillian doesn’t follow my advice. Just keeps drinking me in as though my compulsion and bitchiness failed to kill his crush.
“Do I have something on my face?” I finally ask.
“Just a little salt.” He skims the corner of my mouth, causing my runes to overheat and my skin to prickle. “Right here.”
I take a step back, licking my mouth to erase the feel of his finger. How bold to touch an Atlantean.
Admittedly, like the majority of humans, Cillian probably believes our powers are make-believe. Only a select few knowthey’re real—like that New England sect that calls itself the Holy Hunters and whose sole purpose in life is to seek our extinction.
As I drain my glass, I think back to Cillian’s proposal that we fake-date to get Malachi’s attention. Not because I’m considering it—absolutely not—but because I can’t figure out why he’d suggest something like that if he was so into me. Unless he’s secretly a rom-com fan who thinks manufactured jealousy is a legitimate courting strategy.
Since he’s still looking at me, I study him back, scrolling over the brown strands poking out around his ears, his strong jaw, and even stronger shoulders.
He isn’t Malachi, but he also isn’t the complete pits. Though he isn’t the sort of man I’d look at twice if our paths had crossed in the street.
Not that I have ever looked at anyone else even once.
Want to grab coffee sometime this week?
The masochistic replay of Malachi’s invitation makes my hand twitch and disturb the giant ice cube.As the air cracks with applause, I fish my cell phone from my pants pocket and punch out a message to Calanthe.
ELECTRA:Are Ines and Malachi dating?
Since my friend’s on stage, I’ll have to wait for her reply. I slip my phone back into my pocket, glad I wore pants since I absolutely loathe carrying around handbags.
“Your earlier proposal…” When Cillian’s eyebrows furrow, I allow magic to flow out of my corneas and use words to remind him of what I stole from his memory. “Fake-dating. What’s in it for you?”
His pupils shrink like miniature lungs releasing a sigh, allowing his irises room to grow. I try to decipher their color, but shadows cling to them. Cling to the whole of him from the roots of his hair to the tip of his jagged nose.
I’m so fixated on the bump upon which sit his glasses that I almost miss his reply, “A chance to stop being a stranger.”
Chapter 4
Electra
Cillian tips his chin, which deepens the intensity of his stare. “I want to make you dinner, after which I’ll play the role of boyfriend for as long as you need me to.”
“No deal.” When his eyebrows slam low, I say, “First,you play the part of smitten boyfriend. If you do it well,thenwe’ll do dinner.”
“Okay.” The man iswaytoo eager. Not only didn’t he try to barter, but he’s also smiling.
“You do realize that the only reason I’d take you up on your offer in the first place is to land arealdate with someone I’mactuallyinto, right?”
My frankness erodes his delight.
What makes it vanish fully is when I suggest, “How about I pay you instead. A hundred dollars a day?” At his scowl, I up the ante. “Two-hundred?”
He pushes away from the bar. I think he’s about to stalk off, wounded ego in tow, but instead he faces me and leans in until his face is dangerously close to mine. Too close. My nostrils flare from how he invades my space.
“I’m not an escort, Miss Serran.” He delivers the words with a heavy dose of repugnance. “I might not be rolling in riches like most of the people in this room, but I have my pride.”
“Yet you’re willing to accept payment in kind.” I don’t mean for it to be tinged with as much disdain as it is, but that’s how it comes out. “What do you call that?”
