“Sorry,” Lyra mouthed to the person behind us who impatiently tapped her foot as we finished up.
“Any more errands you want to waste my time with?” I let the door slam shut as we walked out of the store. The sidewalk was slick with rain, and water dripped from the awning overhead. We must have just missed the rain. I looked at the sky, where the clouds had slightly dissipated, and the sun started to peek through.
“Well…” She contemplated the question, rubbing her chin like she was deep in thought. “Now that you mention it, I do need to drop a few items off at the dry cleaners.”
“Lyra,” I growled in frustration. And fuck, did I like saying her name like that when she was being a brat.
“It’s all part of the plan.” She repeated her earlier sentiment with a sigh.
“You mean the plan you refuse to tell me about? The plan that doesn’t?—"
“Do you own a suit?” she cut me off.
“Yes,” I answered caught off guard by her random question.
“Does it look expensive?” she pushed.
“I have a nice suit,” I said defensively.
“Okay, good. Cause we’re going to steal the spellbook tonight.”
The old grandfather clock chimed eight times. Lyra was late. I blended into the shadows, watching extravagantly dressed guests in gowns and suits enter the Whitethorn’s “humble abode.” Humans were vain and prideful. None of this shit mattered in the afterlife.
I flexed my fingers in a feeble attempt to keep the rage from surfacing. But the longer I waited for Lyra, the stronger the itch to burn this place to the ground became. I pulled a lighter from my pocket and watched the flame spark to life.
Was Devin powerful enough to save his house before it burned to ash?
A hypnotic laugh drifted from the entrance, and my thumb slipped from the lighter. I quickly pocketed it, keeping to the shadows. The crowd parted as Lyra and her little posse made their way inside. She was carrying the pastry boxes we’d picked up earlier and handed them over to the wait staff with a blinding smile as she entered the room. One of the guys in the group looked like he wanted to be here less than I did, and I’d spent the past couple of months being tortured in the basement.
The slit in Lyra’s green dress traveled impossibly high, exposing more of her thigh with each step.
I couldn’t stop myself from staring. Tracking her every movement. One by one her friends dropped off, until finally she was alone.
I silently approached and tugged her into a dark corner.
“You sure know how to keep a guy waiting,” I said, pinning her body against the wall, using my large frame to shield us from prying eyes.
“Grey,” she said drawing in a heavy breath.
It took every ounce of self-control to keep my hands to myself.
“Now, where can I find that book?” I murmured, leaning in just enough so she could hear me over the conversations happening around us.
“It’s in his—” She paused, eyes going wide, “study at the back of the house.” She rushed the words out.
My gaze followed Lyra’s, landing on Devin. A spark of lightning tingled in my fingertips, electricity humming beneath my skin. I shut my eyes, trying to fight off the dizziness and reel myself back in. The collar hummed to life, letting me know I was dangerously close to losing control.
“Grey.” Lyra’s voice broke through the static. “Hey, look at me.” But I didn’t dare open my eyes. Not yet. They would be black as death.
She placed her hands on either side of my face, tenderly rubbing the pads of her thumbs over my cheeks.
“Please,” she coaxed.
I inhaled deeply, opening my eyes as I exhaled.
“Oh…” she breathed out.
Repulsive. Disgusting. Grotesque. The words from past lovers filled my mind, and I waited for Lyra to say the same as we locked eyes. Both our gaze’s unflinching.
