Page 30 of First Ritual

I glared down at the furniture. “One of the legs is wobbly!”

He cursed under his breath. “You’ve had enough to drink, Tempest.”

I jabbed him in the chest. “It’s Bronte. And you can let go.”

“Tempest suits you better.”

Tempest did suit me better. It’s what my mother and grandmother had called me. Syera, too, unless she was angry at me. Now, Tempest is what I called myself. No one else got to use it. I moved closer until we were nose to nose. “Would you like to know what name suits you better?”

He smirked. “Call me whatever you like, gorgeous.”

Rooke gasped.

How many gasps was that now?

I crossed my arms and considered him. “How about Astar?”

His smirk hit the ground faster than lightning. “Not that.”

Ha! “What’s your middle name?”

He winced. “Nothing better than my first name.”

Curiosity got the better of me, and I was genuine in asking, “What is it?”

“Auroras.”

Wild Auroras Astar. What a mouthful. Trying to say that while my words were slurring themselves together wasn’t a great idea. “Nothing wrong with that, but I’ll stick with Astar until you remember how to say Bronte.”

He clenched his jaw.

I tried to swipe my gimlet back. He snatched the glass out of reach, and I whipped out a magical lasso, retrieving the glass without spilling a drop. Masterful. I grinned at him over the rim as I sipped.

His throat bobbed as his focus fell to my lips and remained.

Uh-uh, not going there. If this guy wouldn’t leave, I’d do the honors. “I’m turning in for the night,” I announced.

Rooke cleared her throat. “Need a hand?”

“Should be fine.” I shuffled forward, and my knees gave way, and I landed in a pool on the ground. “The floor’s uneven here,” I muttered. “Watch out, Rooke.”

Wild’s hands were at my waist again. He set me on my feet.

I crossed my arms. “I don’t need to be picked up everywhere, all the time, Astar boy.”

“I’ll take her,” he said over my head.

“No,” I said. “Nope. I am not that level of drunk where people have conversations around me like I can’t hear.”

Rooke glanced at me.

I stared back. “No way. Really? How strong is that gin?”

“It’s spelled to be as strong as it needs to be,” she said.

Cool. I pointed a finger at her. “I super like you.”

She hiccupped. “I super like me too. You. I like you. We like each other.”

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