Page 52 of Forgotten Monsters
The black and gold Magisterium uniforms gleam in the night as his minions forge ahead to check the perimeter. Only a handful of them walk inside, the others head toward the force fields.
Daniel straightens the lapels of his jacket as Deveraux greets him out front, looking flawless in her gold-sequined pantsuit and matching heels. She answers his questions with an affable smile, and I wonder how she manages to stay so calm and collected, hiding her true allegiance, when I’m simply boiling inside.
She says something funny enough for Daniel to laugh, and the sound threatens to floor me. The closest pine needles dry up and fall, electrified by my powers, and I struggle to catch my breath.
Daniel Osbourne duped me, but his smile still steals my breath. How is that fair? I bite back bile and fly low between the trees, back to the library. I need to change and join the party—hopefully without choking on my damn tears.
Flynn chats with Trent on the steps outside the library when I get back.
“It’s almost showtime, witch. You better change,” the blond Fae says. His white blonde hair gleams with Faerie dust, slicked back over his head, the sides shorter than the top, a perfect mix between a heartthrob and a villain. A pair of black masks hangs from his loose grip.
“I know.” I rush past the two men and stone gargoyles, my gut in knots. “Magisterium agents are already spreading across the grounds. We have to clear out of here.”
A sheen of sweat sticks to my temples, so I rush to the bathroom, splash cold water on my face, and unbutton my blouse.
Barron prowls in behind me and closes the door. A black garment bag is wrapped around his lower arm, and hunger pulses in his gaze. The distance between us melts until I feel his heat, his thunderous aura raising all the hairs on my neck to attention. The memory of our kiss is enough to convince me that I can’t afford a second round. Not tonight.
I press a decisive finger to his lips. “None of that. If I’m to survive the night, I can’t let you steal my pain. I need it.”
Without it, I fear my heart might crumble.
I snatch the dress from his grasp, hang it on a light fixture, and strip to my underwear.
He balls his fists and leans his forehead on the closest stall.
A genuine grin curves my lips. Serves him right for stripping in front of me the very first day we met. I can play games, too.
His dark aura thrashes, and his hands shake like he’s dying to rip off the red lace of my underwear and drink my rage in until we cross a line that should never be crossed. “Yer fury drives me mad, little storm.”
“Being attracted to scorned women is so…fucked up.”
“Complicated, maybe.” He grips my waist and pulls me flush against his chest. “But it’s not like craving revenge is your only quality.”
“You like women who occasionally yell at you?”
He shakes his head. “I like whenyouyell at me.”
The heat emanating from him erodes my resolve, and my lids flutter. The smokey scent of incense and aftershave washes over me. How I wish I could get rid of my pain in this thunderous man’s embrace. He holds me to him with care, and my rotten heart gives a big thump.
“I need to change.” I escape his grasp, unzip the bag and slip the smooth, fresh fabric over my head.
The black silk shimmers with rainbow patterns.
“Move through the ballroom slowly, and be careful. Once you start to dance, the spell will activate. Its effect should only last a few minutes on experienced sorcerers.
I watch myself in the mirror. The dress is elegant and beautiful. The skirt almost touches the floor, and my back is left bare, but it’s just a dress. I wonder what kind of magic Barron used to imbue it.
“What if they’re human?” I ask.
He caresses my bare back, sparking goosebumps along my neck. “They would spend the entire night in awe of you, frozen in contemplation.”
“Is that what you do for a living? Smuggle forbidden artifacts?”
“Is there a more fascinating line of work than to explore the blurry, delicious lines between rage and beauty? Revenge and hope?” His hand slips down the small of my back to graze my ass.
I lean into his touch. “Careful. I wouldn’t want to waste the dress.”
A heavy breath skims my shoulder. He drinks in the curves of my body, his tattoos black enough to swallow the surrounding light. “Go and give them hell. When you return, I’ll fuck you so hard and deep you won’t remember that fucker’s name.”
