Viktor looked horrified. “That’s not true.”
“It might be true.”
Another mother with a crying child passed by. The child was older, maybe one and a half or two years old, dressed as a little firefighter. Viktor didn’t even look at the kid, but the little tyke started giggling when he looked in Viktor’s direction. When the mother got a few steps away, he started wailing again, rocking in his mother’s arms and pointing at Viktor. “Back! Wanna go back, Mommy!”
Looking harried, the woman cut a glance from her firefighter son to Viktor. The child pointed firmly at Ruby’s brother. The mother took a few steps toward Viktor and Ruby. The little boy waved at him. Viktor hesitantly waved back.
Ruby leaned in and whispered, “Big Bad Baby Whisperer,” three times before scurrying away to search for her tattooed man. The blond dude she planned to avoid was still speaking with Bubba and Astrid. She went in the opposite direction to search for her quarry, vowing not to look for Max. Abruptly, she realized she’d never told him her name.
Maybe that was for the best.“Not,” said a little voice deep down inside.
Chapter Four
Max had to force himself not to look at the luscious woman in the sexy red hood as he hurried toward Bubba and Astrid, hoping they could help him with whatever affliction had taken him over.
“Hi, Max. How do you like the party?”
“It’s fine, but—”
“I really love your costume,” Astrid said. “Did you get the axe from Bianca’s husband? Warrick’s got a great collection of medieval weaponry.”
Max nodded and tried again to explain the recent problem he’d suffered with the beautiful girl across the room. “Yes. He let me pick out exactly what I wanted.”
“Good.”
“But something just happened and—”
He was interrupted again when a passerby exclaimed loudly how much she loved Bubba and Astrid’s alien costumes, drawing their attention away from him once more.
Maybe he’d imagined it. Maybe this was a sign he shouldn’t say anything. Maybe he was hallucinating. The woman dressed in the amazing, short black dress with the red-hooded cape was really pretty. Maybe he’d just gotten tongue-tied in a normal, everyday sort of way, and his mind had run with the suggestion planted by the odd behavior of the two witches. Love and truth, indeed.
He grabbed a glass of champagne when a passing waiter offered it to him, drinking it down in one swallow. Good stuff. It likely wouldn’t help the situation with his uncooperative mouth, but it tasted good.
With Bubba and Astrid involved in a new conversation, Max lingered nearby, wondering how long he had to stay in order for it to count as making an appearance.
His employers chatted with several other folks as Max reconsidered telling them what had just happened. The more he thought about it, the crazier it seemed. He wasn’t under a spell. He could say what he wanted whenever he wanted.
Max tipped back a second glass of bubbly and scanned the room. Almost instantly, he saw the object of his recent lovelorn affliction. The very pleasing way she filled out her short, form-fitting red and black outfit made his brain soft. Probably why his mouth went awry in the first place.
The cloak with the wide red hood looked like it was about to slide off the back of her head. If it did, her lovely dark hair with pale streaks would be showcased beautifully. Despite the distance between them, her deep blue eyes looked sultry and inviting. He could happily drown in them. As if she sensed his stare, her gaze shifted in his direction. Max quickly glanced away.
When he got the courage to look again, she was gone. Disappointment rushed through him. She probably thought he was a weirdo. He promised himself he’d make a better impression if he ran into her later. Surely he’d be able to say whatever he wanted to, without words he didn’t mean to say spilling out. Then he’d avoid her before he did something to reinforce her first impression.
The flash of her short red cloak appeared between two other guests. She hadn’t gone far. He plucked a flute from a passing server’s tray and sucked down a third glass of champagne as he headed in her direction. His steps faltered as he realized he didn’t even know her name.
He should at least find out the name of the person he planned to avoid, right? It seemed as logical as spouting his love for her after knowing her for three seconds.
The blue-eyed girl was obviously searching for someone. She casually looked at the hands of ever male she passed. Was she simply ensuring whatever man she found appealing wasn’t already married?
Max twisted the ring on his right hand, hating the need to cover up something he’d once been so proud of. He’d gotten the mark almost ten years before, on the day he turned sixteen. It had been like a rite of passage in his family.
On Alpha-Prime, Max never concealed the mark. At least not until afterthe incident, when he’d finally been released from criminal custody. He was lucky he hadn’t made it as far as the gulag on XkR-9, although that was where he’d been headed before his barrister’s, or rather his lawyer’s, efforts took him out of the line heading to an airship bound for the gulag several galaxies away, possibly to Max’s end.
The inmates would have recognized the mark on his finger, making him an instant target the moment he stepped foot in the gulag, but he’d been spared at the very last second. For all the good that had done him.
Well, ithadkept him out of a vile gulag, but the cost of beingaccusedof a crime,arrestedfor that crime,prosecutedand held in a local jail on his way to a life sentence for that crime, even though he was innocent, came with similar consequences. He was suddenly a social outsider.
