Page 29 of Magpie
Before I can even think to move, he’s climbing the stairs, ducking his shoulder, and scooping me up in one sweeping motion. I’m bent over, my ass in the air next to his head, the top half of my body draped over his back. One of his arms pins my legs to his front as he begins to saunter through the halls.
“Put me down,” I shriek, beating on his back, a fairly useless effort since my hands are caught in the long sleeves of his shirt.
“I thought you wanted to go back to your room—unless, of course, you would rather we start right here,” he muses.
I let out another frustrated shout, slapping my hands against his back. He ignores my struggles and my shouts toput me the fuck down, laughing to himself, and all too soon I hear a door clicking open, and he carries me into my room. Vaulting me over his shoulder, he drops me onto my bed, where I scramble to sit up on my knees and point furiously to the door, his sleeve dangling off my hand and ruining the effect.
“Get out,” I snarl.
“I already told you, the ritual—”
“I don’t give a fuck about some ritual; you don’t get to just grab me whenever you want.” I cross my arms furiously in front of me, glaring at him. He sighs, shutting the door, apparently ignoring my demands. “Asshole.”
“Yes, I am being an ass, but only because you’re adorable when you’re angry,” he says, earning another seething scowl from me. He grins at the sight as he leans against the door, stuffing hishands in his pockets and watching me. That crooked smile slides off his face as his expression turns serious. “But I’m not lying to you, Magpie. We cannot be parted tonight. If we were to break the ritual, Alister would befurious. You can believe every word that comes out of my mouth to be a lie, but please believe me when I tell you, you do not want to see him angry.”
I let out a huff of air, crossing my arms tighter against my chest as I eye him. He makes no move to cross the room, to come any closer to me.
“But we do not have to do anything other than remain beside each other.”
“What, so we just have to be…close? How close?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.
“As close as you want, pretty bird,” he says, smirking, the look sending heat building deep inside of me.
“You can stay over there until this ‘ritual’ is done,” I say, sitting back on my legs in a huff, but he’s shaking his head.
“We have to be closer than that,” he says, looking like he is trying to hide a smile.
I dart my eyes around my room. “Fine. Take the chair behind the desk,” I counter, my shoulders deflating as he shakes his head again.
“Closer, pretty bird.”
“Why don’t you tell me exactly how close we have to be instead of just playing with me?” I snap, and instantly regret my choice of words.
“Oh, but Iloveplaying with you,” he purrs, and I swear to god my traitorous body burns at his words. I level a glare at him, and he laughs, pushing off the door and sauntering toward me. I scramble back on the bed as he presses one knee on it, then another. He moves with the grace of a panther, stalking me as I back all the way up until I am pressed against the wall. He slowly lowers himself until he is stretched out beside me.
“This close?” I ask, my voicefarbreathier than I meant it to be.
“No,” he answers, shooting his arm out and curling it around me. He tugs me swiftly to him until our bodies are pressed against each other. He gives me a firm squeeze to emphasize the point as he says, “This close.”
Istand outside the brownstone, my heart ricocheting in my chest. My bus arrived in the city as the sun was rising, and I instantly punched the address into my phone, pulling up the map. The walking directions were less than ideal, but I didn’t want to get into a taxi just to have them shout at me to get out. It took nearly half the cash left in my backpack to bribe the bus driver into letting me on. Death is creeping off me, growing more dominant the longer I’m without my key. It has taken me all morning and the beginning of the afternoon to walk here.
The sight of the brownstone steals the breath from my lungs.
I’m transported so suddenly back to that first night, when I was still a trembling leaf in Alister’s arms. When we stepped from the House to wander the misty streets of Ireland. I swallow, trying to remind myself that this isn’thishouse. I would feel it if it was. Still, I find myself studying the building, wary of it. The bricks are a deep rusty hue, and there are twisting iron bars covering the windows, resembling ivy. Stone ravens stand as silent guards atop the steps leading to the hulking metal door.
I take a trembling step, one small movement pulling me closer to the building that reminds mefartoo much of the House. Another step, then another—
“Get the hell off the road!” a driver shouts at me through his window, blaring his horn and making me jump out of my skin.
“I’m sorry,” I say, turning and locking eyes with him, only remembering at the last moment that I shouldn’t have.
“Holy hell,” he whispers, his eyes growing wide as he takes me in. I wince, grabbing my hood and yanking it low over my face as I run across the road. He slams on the gas and peels out, speeding off, as if he can’t get away from me fast enough.
Breathing heavily, I look up the stone steps. The glistening glass eyes of the raven statues watch me, and I shiver, feeling like they will take flight at any moment and attack me with their massive talons. Screwing up all my courage, I climb the stairs.
There is a no doorbell or buzzer that I can find, so instead I pound three times on the metal door. I hurry back, not wanting to be too close to the door, not wanting them tofeelme. I’m shifting nervously on the balls of my feet, looking rapidly over my shoulder as I wait. I’m just beginning to consider knocking again when I hear what sounds like an endless series of locks snapping open, and the door swings wide.
A woman stands in the doorway, looking around until her hard green eyes land on me. Her snow-white hair is tossed into a messy bun on her head, fitting right in with her baggy, wrinkled tank top. Even her skintight dark-wash jeans have holes in the knees and thighs, and the sneakers on her feet look beat-up and weather-worn. The only things about her that aren’t disheveled are the lace choker around her throat and the leather jacket she’s wearing, which looks several sizes too big for her.
