I spin around to search for Dimitri, almost tipping into the person next to me. A large hand shoots out and steadies me, and I blink up at the man. It takes a minute for my mind to conjure a name for him. My arm tingles, almost burns.
“Dusty. What are you doing here?” I yelp a little too loud. He isn’t exactly blocking my way, but he’s too close for my liking.
I hate to admit it, but I understand why Lark was smitten with him with his floppy blond hair and dazzling smile. She was enamored with him for two years, though I only met him once. She kept him to herself, and I suspect it was because she knew I’d mention the multiple red flags she was collecting. I suppose we didn’t really have any good role models for healthy relationships growing up. Perpetually single or gone too soon, those are our legacies.
“Enjoying the night.” He steps closer when a group pushes past behind him. “You?”
“Same. Percy’s here,” I blurt out. I am definitely not sober enough to deal with this man.
“Oh yeah?” He smirks. He never did like Percy. She was too loud, too brash, too flighty for him. Personally, I think he knew Percy told Lark to dump his narcissistic ass.
I nod, sending my head swimming. “Yup. Girl’s night.”
“Without your sister?”
The comment sobers me more than anything else could. He knows she went missing. Actually, he was the second person I confronted when she stopped answering my calls, after Percy, of course. At the time he seemed sincere in his concern, but don’t they always? He might not be the one who made her vanish, but there’s something he knows.
“It was something to see you, Dusty. I gotta get these to Percy and…my boyfriend.” I may have used Dimitri as an excuse to fend off a would-be suitor, yet a boyfriend is coming in handy. I might just use this lie more often.
“Boyfriend, huh? Always thought you were?—”
“Were what?” I snap.
“Oh, nothing. Good to see you, Mari.” He smirks again, then brushes my arm as he turns away.
My skin burns, and I juggle the drinks while trying to rub the spot. Dimitri appears in front of me and snatches the glasses. Heeyes me as I press my hand against my arm. I don’t like Dusty touching me, even accidentally.
“Who was that,” Dimitri growls, more of a demand than an inquiry.
“An ex. Not my ex. My sister’s,” I mutter as I lose track of Dusty in the crowd.
Dimitri’s head turns, probably still able to see the man. “I didn’t like how close he was.”
“If you were so worried about him, then perhaps you should have come over sooner,” I snap, grabbing Percy’s and my glasses. “Have fun with your water.”
After all the commotion, my buzz has taken a sharp nosedive. When I get to the edge of the dance floor, I throw back my drink. I down half of it in one go, then sigh as the alcohol works its way through my system. My one more might need to be three if I keep losing that good feeling I had while dancing.
This is supposed to bemynight. So why do I feel so guilty? I shake my head, focusing on the fuzziness creeping along the edges of my brain.I won’t let anyone ruin my one chance to be free from what my life has become.
This is not how I thought tonight would go.
In fact, ever since I crashed into Mari’s world, things have been wonky. The contentment I once felt with my life has fled along with most of my sanity. I used to be confident in my decisions, fulfilled in my role in Hell. The moment I blasted out of her closet, the stability I once felt dissolved with the clouds I created.
I should go—leave her to her night. She has her friend, who might be her lover, to take care of her. Checking on Omen should be my first priority—myonlypriority. There’s no logical reason for me to stay. Except I can’t walk away. It could be because I’m worried about her or that I want her to get home safely. I’d be lying to myself.
I still remember the feel of her in my arms. Her touch has imprinted itself into my very being. Walking away means never experiencing her skin against mine again. It means leaving her to fate. I was never very good at trusting Providence at the bestof times. Believing her to take care of one little spitfire of a witch? Yeah, no.
Shaking my head, I trail after Mari. She’s frozen on the edge of the dance floor. She throws back her head, finishing her drink. When I asked her how many she had, it wasn’t to shame her, though she seemed to take it that way. I’ve had drunken revelries with witches before, and they go from having a nice little buzz to puking extremely quickly.
Mari’s hips sway to the beat of the music. When she lifts her friend’s drink to her lips, I push past the group of people streaming toward the stairs. Even if she isn’t close to the edge, I need to be there just in case.
A server stops next to her, and Mari beams at him while she sets her empty glasses onto the tray. The man says something and Mari laughs, then shakes her head. Jealousy curls in my gut and cements my feet to the floor. Mari isn’t mine. She’s free to do whatever she wants. Since I can’t force myself to leave, I should hang back. Keeping myself at a distance while making sure she’s safe is better than acting like a possessive lover.
Instead of listening to my better sense, I stomp forward. Humans scatter from my path as my magic snakes through their legs. I’m going to have so much paperwork if I get back to Hell. Ludovic will have my ass for interfering with humanity. This may be small, but he’s a stickler for the rules. Maybe I can hide behind Triton. He’s been noticeably absent, though.
I reach for Mari as she attempts to slip into the crowd. She squawks yet doesn’t push me away. She glares at me over her shoulder.
“What are you doing?” she demands.
