His mismatched eyes lock with mine. Our stare quickly turns intense, enveloping. “You look familiar.” He leans in a bit and I inhale his earthy scent, a mixture of forest pine and leather. “You don’t visit the Ryder stables, by any chance?”
Oh, you mean the Ryder stables where I break in all the freaking time to hunt demons? Little doxy monsters go there to pester the horses; I’ve appointed myself stable exterminator, on the sly, of course. But there’s no way can he know that, though. The question must be a weird coincidence.
I anxiously shift my weight from foot to foot. “Nope.”
A ghost of a smile rounds the boy’s mouth. “Ah, my error then.” He bows slightly. “My name’s Lincoln.” He scans me from head to toe, his gaze resting on my tail. “You must be a quasi, um, ‘demon.’” His voice lowers when he says the word ‘demon.’
“I’m ‘Myla.’” My voice lowers when I say ‘Myla.’ I have a name, creep.
“Pleasure to meet you.” Lincoln rakes his hand through his mop of brown hair. “Would you…” He has the look of someone about to force himself to do something disgusting. “Would you like to dance, Myla?” He glances toward the ballroom floor, locks his gaze on Cissy and Zeke, then sneers. “It seems to be something your kind enjoys.”
Rage boils through me. “Do you mean ‘our kind’ as in my friend with the dog tail?” I hitch my thumb to the dance floor, where Cissy and Zeke are mid-cha-cha. “You remember? The one in heat?”
Lincoln folds his arms across his chest. “What I said was true.” His upper lip curls with disgust. “I can hardly bear to watch.”
“So, you find quasis repulsive.”
“What do you expect?” His mismatched eyes open wider. “You’re part demon. I’m a demon hunter. Asking you to dance was a kind gesture on behalf of–”
“Kind gesture?!” I’m so itching to kick him. “I’ve got a gesture for you.” I turn on my heel and walk away, my tail waving good-bye to him from my backside.
Marching onto the dance floor, I grab Cissy’s arm. “The lust-a-thon ends. Now.” At this point, I’m in a full-blown rage tsunami. My eyes glow bright red.
Cissy knows my wrath-mode when she sees it. “No problem, Myla.” Frowning, she gives Zeke a quick peck on the cheek. “Later, sweetie.”
As we march from the room, I hear Zeke blah-blah-blahing about getting Cissy’s phone number. She gives my hand a little squeeze.
“That was the perfect exit.” She almost skips to the front door.
I speak through gritted teeth: “Glad I could help.”
We drive away from the Ryder mansion in silence. Cissy stares at her hands in what I call her ‘guilty mode.’
As we drive home, my fingers tap the steering wheel in a nervous rhythm. I can’t stop thinking about that thrax boy. It’s mega-irritating. “I’ve a question for you, Cissy.”
Cissy turns to me, her eyes large and watery. “I totally didn’t mean to desert you at the party. You had every right to drag me off the dance floor. But Zeke and I were dancing and I lost track of time.” She puffs out her bottom lip.
“No, it’s not that.”
“Really?!” Cissy sets her hand on her rib cage. “Because I totally feel bad about it.”
“Don’t worry, honestly. I’m happy for you, girlfriend. I’ve got another question for you.”
“Okay, whew.” Cissy leans back in the busted front seat, and props one knee onto the dashboard. “Shoot.”
“Hypothetical question. Suppose there’s a guy–”
Cissy holds up her pointer finger. “Is he hot?”
How I hate admitting this. “Yes.”
“Okay. I like this game already. Please continue.”
“So, this hottie guy is a total and complete dick. Yet you still think about kissing him and–”
“Stop right there.” Cissy raises her hand shoulder height, palm forward. “The answer is kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.”
“You didn’t hear the question.”
Cissy turns to me, her blonde ringlets jiggling. “What is the question?”
“Okay, you got me. What would you do in this situation?”
“As I said, kiss him.”
“That’s not very helpful.”
Cissy glances out the window. “I thought this was just a hypothetical.”
I grip the steering wheel so tightly, my knuckles could pop out of my skin. “Of course, it is.” A hypothetical about that Lincoln guy.
Cissy stares out the window for another moment, then stops. “Hang on there, amiga.” Her head snaps toward me, her mouth pursed. “What’s this really about?”
“Nothing. A little girl talk on the drive home from the party.” I turn to her and wink. “Zeke looked mighty handsome tonight, by the way.”
Please take the bait and change the subject. Please, please, pleeeeeeease.
Cissy drums her manicured nails on the dashboard. “If you weren’t mad at me for ignoring you, why drag me off in a huff?”
“I didn’t huff.”
“Myla, your eyes were blazing bright red.”
“Okay, maybe I huffed a little bit.” In a lovely bit of kindness from the universe, Cissy’s house appears to my right. I pull over the car. “I’m fine, totally. I just wanted to ask a hypothetical question and say how handsome Zeke looked. That’s all.”