I blink at him. “That your friends are jerks?” Something twisted in my chest at the guy’s obvious dismissal of me, butit’s nothing worse than I’ve felt hundreds of times in all sorts of other scenarios before. “Almost everyone in this place is.”
“No. I mean, not just that. That—that I was hooking up with people before you. Just a few drab girls, just a little fun here and there, but I know that’s not… normal for most of the lucent families, at least the ones that go here. The people on both sides of mine think waiting’s for wimps. Not that they forced me into it—I did enjoy it. I mean…”
He looks so adorably awkward the tension in me melts.
I hook my fingers around his collar and give it a teasing tug. “You mean you were a horny teenager.”
He exhales with a huff of amusement and leans close enough for his lips to brush my jaw. “I’mstilla horny teenager. But you’re everything I need, mia amata.”
This Salvatore shatters the memory with another brush of his fingers, tracing the curve of my ass.
I force down the lump in my throat and jerk away with enough force that he releases my arm. “How much you’ve spread yourself around isn’t a selling point.”
Salvatore guffaws, but it sounds more harsh than amused. “Ah. Do you think you’re too good for me, patatina?”
I can’t help but echo his laugh with a bit of a sputter. If he had any idea how far down the social ladder I’ve been in my actual life…
“You don’t know me,” I inform him, and turn my back on him. As I move away through the crowd, it occurs to me that what I just said might have been true even when it comes to Other Elodie.
No one around her seems to have had the faintest clue what she was really up to.
But Salvatore just won’t let it rest. He bounds through the crowd and swaggers into my path. “I know that somewhereunder all that ice you’re a little curious. Let’s see the famous Elodie Devine let loose for once.”
His mocking tone frays the last of my patience. As if he’s anyone to talk about putting on a false front, about denying what you really want.
He doesn’t know me, but I know so much about him.
I always imagined that if it wasn’t for me, my Salvatore would have stood up to his family once he’d gotten a little older and more confident. Shaped his association with them into something he was proud of, reigned over the syndicates and at school with more force than fucking around. But this one’s had three extra years, and he’s only gone more off the rails.
Who is he going to become if he keeps heading down this road? The thought of him careening even farther makes my stomach turn.
I take a step toward him, so abruptly his jaw gives a startled twitch. Before he can launch into more of his seductive onslaught, I jab him in the chest, holding his gaze.
“How about we see you stop dancing for your family like a puppet? What’s so brave about that—taking out your frustrations on the rest of us because you won’t stand up to them? I don’t think you’re going to like the life you end up living if you keep letting them call the shots. And it’ll be no one’s fault but yours.”
Salvatore gapes at me, a strangled sound he can’t manage to form into words falling from his mouth. Even if this version of him doesn’t see things quite the same way mine did, I’ve obviously hit a mark.
“Good,” I go on. “Shut up and think about that for a minute. Because no one but you is going to get you out of this mess. Stop trying to drag me into your identity crisis. I’ve got better things to do.”
I yank myself away from him again and stride over to the refreshments table.
In that first moment, a strange lightness washes over me. Some of that tirade was just putting this version of Salvatore in his place. Some was an awful lot like things I’d have liked to say—more gently—to my own match from time to time. I just never dared when he was doing so much for me.
My gaze slides back to the crowd on the dance floor, and a wave of dread drowns my relief.
Salvatore is still frozen in the crowd, his hands clenched into fists, his gaze turned toward me. Even under the streaks of colored lights, I can make out the vicious smolder in his eyes.
With a swing of his arm, he clears a path and barges out of the ballroom. My heart still gives a little tug—the constant reminder of the fractured bond that keeps throwing us together.
No matter how I try to keep my distance, I always end up colliding with these guys. Have I actually shut him down for good… or next time will he just hit me even harder?
Twenty
Salvatore
The pistol rests in my hand with a familiar weight. I concentrate on the firing pin and the hum of ephemera in the room around me.
Weave in a few strands of magic to speed the bullets faster. Then a few more to soften the recoil.
