“I’m trying,” she said through gritted teeth as she tried to control her energy from exploding exponentially inside her as his touch drove her body mad with desire.
“Just relax and let the warmth and power fill your insides,” he said softly.
How can I say no when you demand something like that, Ash? She tried to allow the tiniest ball of silver fire to form between her hands. It ended up being slightly larger than she intended, and Asher yelled in joy.
“Yes! You did it!” he shouted, reaching forward to hug her in his excitement. “Thorn’s going to flip!”
Para laughed at Asher’s excitement and hugged him back. “Thanks for teaching me this. It’s pretty amazing, but it takes so much concentration and I don’t know any practical uses for it. I guess I’ll practice on my own every chance I get. I really have to go now, but can we train again soon?”
“What? This isn’t nearly enough practice!” he complained. “You should spend at least two hours running, and then we should do some light sparring and more prana manipulation..."
“I wish I could,” she said apologetically, glancing at her watch. There were only two minutes remaining in her union. “I have a really busy day ahead of me. Work is super hectic. This is just my little before-work-workout, you know!”
“Alright,” he said with disappointment. “I know you’re busy and don’t want to exhaust you. Same time next week?”
“That works for me. Really can’t wait! See you soon, Ash.”
Chapter 7: Bewitching Ball Gown
“Her?” said Rose in a snobby tone. “Look, son. You can’t bring some hooker you met at the corner of Sleazy and Slutty to the Kalgren Tech Charity Ball.”
“Mom! She’s a doctor!” said Thornton angrily. “She’s an educated girl and I thought you trusted me more than that.”
“This is going to be a distinctive crowd. God, Thorn! I thought you understood after all these years how important this party is to us. We can’t have some teenager in here doing something juvenile like pulling the fire alarm and chasing all our guests away!”
“Mother. It’s not like Dad has the best social graces. How many of your party guests have run away terrified because of him? Even if Medea were socially awkward, which she’s not, she still wouldn’t be as bad as your husband.”
“Don’t talk about your father like that!” snapped Rose. “He’s a demigod and he can act as he pleases; it’s completely different.”
“No. You told me I needed a date. I was content to go alone, but I followed your instructions and I chose Medea to be my date. She’s a nice girl; a smart and polite girl from a good background. You’ll like her!”
Rose furrowed her brow. “Well, it’s simple. I will have to meet her. You will introduce me to this ‘Medea Meadows’ girl before the ball. We’ll invite her to a family dinner.”
“Is that really necessary, mother? I already told her I’d take her dress shopping tomorrow.”
“Then take her shopping. But make the dinner date. I need to know that she won’t embarrass us.”
“I’m more concerned about dad embarrassing me in front of her! How are we going to explain that he doesn’t exactly eat—he just waves his hand over his food and it disappears?”
“That’s not my problem,” Rose shot back. “Maybe if you hadn’t screwed things up with Pax, we wouldn’t have to be explaining the way our family works to some whore!”
“Mom…”
Rose shook her head, pressing her knuckles against her hairline and kneading aggressively. “Sorry, Thorn. I’m really sorry. Just please invite the girl to dinner. I’m your mother and I need to meet her.”
“Yes, mom.”
* * *
“Where are we headed next?” Thornton asked.
“Hmm,” said Para, gazing around the mall. “How about Viscaria’s?”
“Sure, sounds good. My sister loves that shop.”
“Oh, does she? A friend recommended the designer to me.”
“I hope you actually like something there. We’ve been to five stores and you haven’t even tried anything on. What exactly are you looking for?”
“I’ll know it when I see it.” Part of Para had wanted to try on about a dozen dresses already at this point. Not because she was interested in any of them, but because she had wanted to model them, and to admire them on her body. Another part of her reasoned that she hardly had time to pick out one dress, and that she could only really try on a dress she loved and intended to buy and wear.
“How can you see it if we're breezing from store to store at lightning speed?” he complained.
“It’s kind of like shopping for a boyfriend,” she joked. “You’re never quite sure what you’re looking for until it appears before you. When it’s finally there, in all its glory, something clicks and it just feels right. It has to be the dress, Thorn.”
“You’re really religious about this shopping thing,” he said, scratching his head. “Kinda reminds me of my little sis. Maybe you should pause to browse the racks a little more carefully.”
“The dress I wear won’t be something you tuck away in a corner of a rack,” said Para assuredly. “It will be a one of a kind masterpiece in display of the center of the… oh!”
She clutched Thornton’s arm tightly when she laid eyes on it.
Displayed in the window of Viscaria’s was one brilliant silvery gown on a mannequin. It had a small, shapely bodice and an extremely wide flared skirt. The color was challenging to describe as it was a blend of two different types of white. A snowy ivory and the palest magnolia. Embroidered Swarovski crystals cascaded down the wide skirt in small waterfalls.
“Oh my goodness,” Para breathed.
“Is that ‘The Dress?’” Thornton asked. He was fairly confident in the answer from her reaction.
She could only nod breathlessly.
“Would you like to try it on?” he prompted.
“Yes!” she exclaimed, rushing into the store to greet her favorite designer.
The small woman who owned the shop was hunched over a circular table and sketching furiously. She didn’t even bother to look up when she heard the door open.
“Good afternoon,” said Para excitedly. “We’re interested in the dress in the window…”
“You can't afford it.”
“Excuse me?” Para responded in shock.
“You can't afford it. I made it for one of my faithful regular customers. Once she looks at it, and decides whether or not she likes it, then I’ll consider selling it to the general public.”
Thornton cleared his throat, stepping up behind Para and placing his hand on her waist protectively. “I can assure you, ma’am, that we can afford this dress. Name your price, and as long as it fits my girlfriend I will purchase it from you.”
The woman continued to sketch on the table furiously, still not looking up at her customers. “Can’t. Won’t sell. Holding it for Miss Amara Briefs. Custom made to her measurements.”
Para gasped. “For the Ball?”
“Heavens, no. Are you two shopping for the Ball?” The woman looked up from her sketch then, tugging her glasses down her nose a little to peer over the rims and assess the potential value of the customers. She stumbled back a little when she saw the CEO himself standing before her.
“Yes, we are shopping for the Ball,” said Thornton briskly, “and I’d like to purchase that dress. What does my sister need a dress like that for? Even though she moved out years ago, half of my closet is STILL filled with her clothes. I guarantee Amara has everything she needs for every possible occasion.”
“No, you don’t understand, Mr. Kalgren,” said Mrs. Viscaria, shaking her head with a smile. “This is a special dress, for a very special occasion. I made it for your sister’s wedding.”
Pressing a hand against her chest so firmly that she thought she might leave an impression on her own breastbone, Para’s voice escaped her throat in a mere whisper. “Wedding?”
“Yes. The last
time Miss Kalgren was in here she mentioned that she was hoping to commission a wedding dress from me in the near future. We browsed a few wedding books whimsically, dreaming up the type of dress she’d like. In my free time I worked on that design to surprise her the next time she came by. I am sure she’ll love it. She mentioned Cinderella so I thought… are you crying?”
“No,” said Para, wiping tears away from her face hastily. “Of course not. I’m just sniffling because I’m… allergic to… sequins.”
Thornton had become so lost in thought as he looked at the dress that he hadn’t noticed Para suddenly becoming emotional. He was frowning. Mara must have really wanted to marry Ash if she was already planning out her dress. She must have believed that Ash was intending to pop the question at any time. Well, didn’t we all think so? It was logical. I can’t believe I call that fuck-up my friend. Poor Mara… I have never really given much thought to how torn up she must have been about Ash leaving her. I should have been there for her, but I was too obsessed about my own shit hitting the fan.
“My sister would have looked beautiful in this,” Thornton said quietly. Para glanced at him, unable to keep from reading his mind as he thought of her.
I wonder how Mara is doing these days? I don’t think I’ve even made an effort to see her or talk to her since doomsday. I’m a piss poor brother. She must have been devastated these past few months, and where the fuck was I? Great Sakra. If I’d been a better friend to Ash, could I have prevented this from happening? If I’d been a better example, more encouraging, more sensitive instead of taking my frustrations out on him…
It’s completely my fault. I should have looked out for her. I should have tried harder to secure Mara’s happiness instead of just focusing on my own. Especially considering how much Ash looks up to me—the huge influence I have over him. If I’d done things the right way, then maybe she’d be wearing this dress and smiling as she walked down the aisle. I’d be standing beside Ash as his best man, of course. And Pax would be her maid of honor. We would be smiling at each other as our best friends tied the knot, maybe thinking about our own futures. It would have been so perfect.
Para was sure that she felt her breastbone crack under the pressure of her palm, and she winced at the pain. Gulping, she fought the urge to run out of the store and find a secret corner to have a good cry. She reached out to gingerly touch Thornton’s sleeve. You are the best brother a girl could have. It means the world to me just to know that you care. I wish I could tell you that.
I guess I can’t see her now, Thornton continued thinking. Paxie’s been staying at her house—and I doubt I can get near that demigoddess without hellfire and explosions. I just hope she’s taking care of my little sister. I know she loves her as much as I do. I’m sure Mara is safe in your hands, Paxie.
Even better, Para thought to herself, regaining a bit of her original smirk. She’s safe in my body. A soft expression had initially transformed her features when she had been presented with the gown that had been made for her wedding. The wedding that would never happen. The wedding that she had been a fool for ever imagining or dreaming of!
Nevertheless, the dress had been made for her. And she would have it.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that the dress already belonged to someone,” she said, moving to leave the store. “Let’s keep looking, Thorn…”
“No,” he said firmly. “It’s the first thing that's caught your eye since we got to the mall… you should try it on.”
“I don’t think your sister would appreciate me trying on her wedding dress!”
“My sister… isn’t getting married anytime soon,” said Thornton slowly, turning to Mrs. Viscaria. “Amara and her boyfriend broke up. They won’t be getting married.”
“No!” said Mrs. Viscaria with a deep frown. She clasped her hands before her sadly. “That poor girl! I’ve never seen anyone so deeply in love.”
“Yes, well. I don’t think that seeing this dress or hearing about it would exactly put Amara in the best frame of mind,” said Thornton. “You should probably just sell it to us.”
The designer pushed her glasses back up her nose. “Fine. But it’s going to cost you—it’s still my most desirable piece. I guess you’ll want to try it on, Miss… sorry, I didn’t get your name?”
“Meadows. My name is Medea Meadows.”
“What a lovely name!” the shopkeeper said.
Para turned to Thornton and sent him a kind smile. Too lovely to be real. He returned her smile with a bittersweet taint to his expression.
Mrs. Viscaria began eyeing the girl’s body carefully. “Let me just get the dress off the mannequin and you may try it on.”
“I don’t need to try it on,” said Para. “I can see that it will fit me.”
“Miss Meadows, I don’t mean to be rude, but this dress is covered in so many crystals that it costs more than certain automobiles. You want to make sure that it’s a perfect fit before you purchase something like this.”
“Yes, but it’s also going to take me ten minutes to get into the dress, and ten minutes to get out of it. Both Mr. Kalgren and I are very busy people, Mrs. Viscaria. Besides, I’d like to surprise him with the way I look in the dress.” She sent Thornton another flirtatious private smile.
“I guess your body type looks similar to that of Miss Kalgren. More or less…” The designer shoved her glasses up her nose again and began walking around Para slowly. She pulled a measuring tape from around her neck and began to measure. “Hmm. Smaller hips. Same waist.”
“This won't do!” The woman poked Para in the boob viciously. “Miss Kalgren has a larger bosom!”
“By what? A quarter of an inch?” muttered Para, slapping the woman’s finger away. “Do you want to sell this dress to us or not, Mrs. Viscaria?”
The woman hesitated, as though assessing whether this unknown woman was worthy of wearing her dress. Upon examining her face and figure, she reluctantly nodded. “Alright. If you’re that set on it. It will make a mesmerizing ball gown.”
Mrs. Viscaria began to work on taking the dress off the mannequin, and Para sighed and leaned against Thornton’s shoulder in exasperation.
“Part of me really hates shopping,” she said to him softly.
“I can tell,” he said, stroking her arm affectionately. He commented with amusement. “If you were my sister you would have tried on twenty ball gowns by now, and you would have bought three of them in case you changed your mind about what to wear before the event. Shopping takes a whole workday for her.”
“It sounds like she’s meticulous about her appearance. The backup-dress is a pretty wise idea,” Para said, unable to resist the urge to defend and compliment herself in the same breath.
“It was. Amara usually ended up shoving Pax into one of her backup-dresses since Pax would rather eat dirty socks than enter a shopping mall,” Thornton said with a chuckle.
“I don’t blame her,” said Para with a grin. “That’s also very wise.”
“But you’re not like either of them, are you?” asked Thornton thoughtfully. “No. You’re somewhere in between. Ha! You're like the perfect combination of the women in my life.”
Para twitched at his phrasing and responded. “Well, you must have amazing women in your life.”
“You're the most amazing yet,” said Thornton with a wink.
Oh, you charmer you, thought Para, looking at him graciously from under her eyelashes. How many women of yours have believed those honeyed lies?
“The dress is all wrapped up,” said Mrs. Viscaria a few minutes later, struggling as she held out a gigantic bag. “It’s pretty heavy, so be careful with it. I’m assuming you don’t carry fifty thousand dollars of cash on you, so will that be credit or debit?”
Fifty thousand dollars! Thornton exclaimed mentally as he took the bag. Really, for a dress? Is Amara completely insane? I'm lucky that I'm rich or I wouldn't be able to afford women at all. I totally forgot what it was like to date. Pax was so low mai
ntenance; a walk in a sweet smelling forest or a swim in a deep, fresh lake and she was happy.
“Credit,” he said calmly, fishing the card out of his pocket.
When they left the mall, with Para’s arm linked through his, Thornton looked around for his limousine and frowned when it was not in sight. “This is strange,” said Thornton looking around uneasily. “I just texted Phillipe to wait for us outside the mall.”
Para noticed the tension in his face and the sharp rise in his prana. She looked at him questioningly. “Is something wrong, Thorn?”
“I’m not sure. I just think that there must be a reason for… oh, shit.”
The last words were spoken when Thornton saw a small crowd of men and women swarming around them. Para froze when she saw the menacing looks on their faces and the signs that they were holding. It seemed oddly familiar.
“Evil, conniving, cheap slut!” barked a raspy, malicious male voice.
“Lying hussy!” screamed a shrill female voice from somewhere in the distance. “Filthy she-demon!”
“What did Miss Burnson ever do to you?” asked a small child, sobbing from somewhere in the swarm of accusers. “You should pay!”
“Let’s get out of here, Medea,” said Thornton, placing a hand gently on her back and guiding her away.
But Para was immobilized. She remembered the crowd and their words from her dream. Thornton tried to place his body between hers and the crowd, which was closing in on them, but the people were approaching from all sides. They shouted angry phrases while some of them even lobbed random objects at the couple.
“Stay close to me,” said Thornton, trying to navigate through the mob. He easily batted away bricks that were hurled at Para.
The deva woman stared at the foreign faces with an uncanny feeling of déjà vu. “Who are these people?” she asked shakily.
“Pax’s mom was a famous actress, Bridget Burnson—these people are Pax’s fan club, one of her less savory inheritances.”
Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak Box Set (Books 1-3) Page 69
