“And her hair,” Freya says, squinting at me, “I wanna borrow her conditioner.”
Aelia grunts. “Can we just get her to the vanity, please?” She takes my arm to help me off the couch. I start to squirm, but Victoria takes my other arm, and I’m outnumbered.
We’re across the room when Victoria stops tugging me. She turns me around to face her and looks me over. She sniffs the air at my neck. “Do you smell that?” she asks Aelia. “Is she marked?”
“No,” Aelia snaps. “Stop smelling her, it’s weird.”
I think of the new scar on my neck. “What do you mean marked?”
Aelia gives me a look to shut up. “Nothing. Let’s just get your face fixed.”
“She has nice eyebrows,” the mousy Rayane says.
“Then marry them. Gods, Ray, you’re so obvious,” Victoria says. “Stop drooling over the newblood.” Then she whispers out the side of her mouth to me. “She has demi envy because her druid blood is weak.”
“I do not,” Rayane says.
Freya snorts.
“What do you mean by marked?” I ask again as they shove me into the vanity chair. I didn’t even know this was a vanity; I thought it was a desk. But now I see the thing I thought was a pencil holder is actually holding long lipsticks.
Freya runs her fingers through my hair. “It means a fellow demi has claimed you.”
I sit up straighter. “What?” That sounds very, very bad.
“No one’s claimed her,” Aelia says, shooing Freya away from my hair. “Stop being ridiculous.” But I can see she’s nervous—her hands shiver a little when she waves at Freya.
“She sure smells claimed to me,” Victoria says. “And you know I have the nose. But I can’t tell who it is.”
I stand up from the chair and back away, holding my hands up. “Stop touching me and smelling me and being insane—just tell me what is going on.”
Freya leans forward and says slowly, like I’m dumb, “We’re putting makeup on you for the Introduction.”
“You’re going to look so much better,” Victoria says.
“Though you already look nice,” Rayane adds.
Exasperation fills me as I stare at their ridiculously calm faces. “Everyone out!” They all blink in unison, not moving, so I add, “Now!” A small spark flicks to life on my right, and the tissue box on the vanity bursts into flames.
I gape at the sudden blaze.
Aelia moves her hand over the blackening box a few times, snuffing the fire out with her own magic. “Go on, girls, I’ll crack this solo. Just hang by the pool and I’ll call you in for shoes.” She coughs and waves at the smoke in her face.
They seem all too eager to back off now and quickly slip out, Victoria looking over her shoulder a few times before I hear the front door shut.
Aelia turns to me with a huff. “You seriously need to control yourself. Those girls have very powerful fathers. They can’t know that your torque isn’t working right.”
“Oh great! So why’d you bring them here?”
“You’re a project. I can’t fix this alone.” She motions to my body. She pauses, though, looking at me more closely. “You do look different, don’t you? Hmm.” She pinches my arm fat. “A little Faelan does a body good, I guess.” She winks at me.
“What?” I step away and cradle my arm.
“You fed off Faelan last night, and it seems to agree with you. You’re a little less praying mantis and more grasshopper.”
I look down at my body. Faelan did this?
“But now we may have a bit of a problem,” she says. She leans on the vanity and frowns at me.
“What—why?”
“I can glamour you to an extent, but Kieran will see right through it. After what he did to you, and you staying under without healing for so long, you should be pretty dead. But here you’ll be. All supple—well, near enough—and wide-eyed. He’ll know you have enough power to resist death, and he’ll be even more determined to demand his ancient rights to you.” She blows at her bangs. “But that’s all nonsense, and I’m totally sure the Cast will never give that a thumbs-up. I mean, do we really want to relive the thrills of the Dark Ages? I think not.”
I can’t even ask any of the questions screaming in my head, because I’m too confused. I touch the scar on my neck, running my fingers along the thin rise of flesh. “I’m marked by that raven freak, aren’t I?”
“Not the scar, no,” Aelia says. “If only. No, the mark of a demi is done with an energy merge, and it’s impossible to hide. I put a glamour on your scar this morning, so my girls wouldn’t notice it. But I couldn’t hide the smell of whoever scent-stamped you.”
“It wasn’t the raven guy?”
She shrugs. “Maybe, but I doubt it.” She leans forward conspiratorially. “My money’s on Faelan, but it could’ve been my dad.”
“Ew!”
“It’s not for sex, perv. It’s a protection. To keep the other demis from getting any ideas about messing with you. I mean, the mark only works if you accept it, so this is sorta on you. Except I can tell you’re clueless about it by the fact that you look about to vom.” She sighs. “Gods’ bones, what did I do to earn you?”
She’s right. I’m going to barf. I focus on breathing and ask, “How did they put the mark on me?” It feels like a violation, an invasion, whatever she says about me being a part of it.
“It’s subtle, a touch. And don’t worry, it’ll wear off if you reject it.” She takes me into the closet and begins hunting for something.
I stand in the middle of the walk-in, feeling powerless. “So it could be your dad who did it, or . . .”
“Faelan.” She smirks. “Is it so tough to imagine?” She turns and grabs something off a hanger. “You hate the guy that much?”
“I don’t hate him, I . . .”
“Oh, come on, admit it.” She nudges my shoulder playfully. “The guy is sex on an untouchable stick.” She holds up a dress in front of me. “And he kisses like thunder rumbling through your body.” She closes her eyes, like she’s pulling up a memory. “I so wish I’d pushed that further. An eternal regret.”
My chest stings. “You’ve kissed Faelan?”
She laughs, hanging the dress back up and taking out another one. “I know, I stooped. But he’s poison, that one. And that celibacy vow makes him all the more yum.”
She kissed him. And it sounds like it was mutual. Which is weird since Faelan acts more annoyed with Aelia than anything. And what does she mean, celibacy vow? Is the guy a secret monk or something? But if he is, why was he sleeping in the nude with Niamh? The memory of him in Marius’s office, looking away from the half-naked woman, comes back to me. And how he seems to go distant when we get remotely close to connecting on any deeper level—wait! Hold on. I’m getting distracted.