So all in all, things had been going pretty damn well as far as I was concerned. Even my classes at school seemed to be getting better. Sending my grandfather off on a wild goose chase felt like something a regular teenager would totally do to get the house to herself. And now I was going to be attending a gala of all things with one of the most incredibly hot men in Dyre. A firefighter no less. I would've had to say life couldn't get any more normal.
I couldn't wait to get that dress into my grubby hands. It had to fit. There were only a couple of hours before Callum came to pick me up and if it didn't, I was going to have to wear the ugly one with the nasty red bow. Even sweats would be better than that. I really didn't want to have to mentally run through the three pairs of yoga pants to see which would be the most alluring.
Sarah must've seen the eyeing the dress because she held it out to me, finally. I noted she let it slip through her fingers with a sigh.
"Don't worry," she said, reading my expression perfectly. "It will fit."
I had to duck as I reached out for it because Nicki's owl swooped down over my head and landed on the floor next to the door. It hooted at me with a long and trumpeting voice, and Nicki squealed in pleasure. She started to crawl toward it and I plucked her from the floor and lifted her into my arms.
As silky soft as the dress was in one hand it was nowhere near as soft as the skin of her cheek as she laid it against my neck. I breathed in the smell of baby lotion and powder and I nuzzled my nose into the fuzz of her hair. She lifted her honeyed gaze to mine and a small hint of diaper rash cream wafted up to me. Her chubby fist tangled in my hair and gave a tug.
"Little peanut," I said. "What have you been doing all day?"
In answer, she showed me her three teeth and then buried those teeth into my skin as she wrapped her mouth around my chin. I let out a holler and Sarah extracted her from my arms. I swiped the back of my arm across my chin to mop up the drool.
"She's decided to take up biting," Sarah said and showed me her arm. It was scored with several indentations. Despite how angry they looked against her pale skin, Sarah didn't sound as if it bothered her at all. In fact, she sounded rather indulgent. There were times when I wanted to remind her that the Egyptian goddess who was wearing Nicki's skin had at one time tried to suck Callum dry of his energy, but it was hard to believe looking at the cherubic toddler that the original entity was anywhere in there.
I reached out and gripped the tiny hand in mine, giving it a shake and trying to coo to her, forcing myself to see nothing but the chubby infant and not the hard-eyed goddess I'd met in the otherworld.
"Do you worry we did the right thing?" I said. "Merging her with the goddess, I mean. That fire in the crib couldn't have been a natural thing even for a demigod." I whispered the last in case the toddler could understand. "What if there's some awful thing lurking and waiting to take us out in our sleep?"
Sarah rubbed her palm against the toddler's hair, making it stand up. "You can look at this face and say that?"
"I have to say that," I said, letting my voice raise because Nicki was too busy chewing on my finger to make me think she understood what was going on. "Because what if she's actually dangerous? What if she has another growth spurt in your arms, Sarah? What if she catches fire while Gramp is feeding her? What if--"
"What if nothing happens, Ayla?" Sarah said. "You buried her out there, remember? Sometime in the future you wanted the present day you to find her. You wouldn't have done that if you thought she was dangerous."
"But--"
"But nothing," Sarah said, sighing. "We can be diligent, yes, but we can't start second guessing something that is done and over. We can't change it."
"But don't you worry?"
"Of course I worry." She shifted the toddler to the other hip. "But I trust you. Even the you a dozen years from now if it's that long."
One look at the resolute expression and I knew it was fruitless to argue. I'd have to worry about it on my own if I wanted to keep picking it over. Sarah had decided how she felt.
"Go put that thing on," she said. "I'll put Nicki down for her nap and then I'll be up with some makeup and a curling iron."
I groaned. "Not makeup. It makes my face all greasy."
She glowered at me. "Do you want to look like a filthy-faced urchin wearing a dress from Saks?"
"This is from Saks?" I said.
"Sax," she repeated and spelled it for me. "You think your grandfather is made of money?" She grinned.
As it turned out, the dress fit perfectly. I couldn't stop staring at myself in the mirror as I twisted this way and that, running my hands down along my hips and smoothing them along my belly. It was perfect. And even with the dozen straps crisscrossing the back, my chest was held in check perfectly by a built-in bra disguised by a draping cowl neck. By the time Sarah had applied what she called a smoky eye with a dramatic lip, even I thought I was magazine, ready.
By the time Callum came to pick me up, I'd begun to suffer an acute case of nerves that could only be assuaged by food.
I came out from the kitchen nibbling the edge off a piece of bacon to see him standing in the hallway wearing a black tux with a white tie. He'd shaved and combed back his black hair and smelled overly strong of aftershave.
The look on his face, a mix between confusion and appreciation made me stop short, bacon in hand.
I almost wiped my fingers on the dress until Sarah grabbed at my wrist.
"Go," she said jerking her head toward Callum.
We went. Without a word, I brushed past him onto the front stoop. I fancied I was walking like a model in my high-heeled shoes, but the truth was I was wobbly. They were a little higher than I had expected and I mentally cursed myself for not trying them out and practising in my room before hand. I didn't want him to know how difficult I was finding it to walk heel toe, heel toe toward the car without collapsing onto the grass next to the driveway.
By the time I was halfway down the driveway, his arm found the back of my hips and he guided me the rest of the way to the car. I felt insulted at first and a bit embarrassed that he didn't think I could make it without twisting an ankle, but then I reminded myself that this was what adults did. They looked and acted composed. And I was a lady. At least tonight.
Unfortunately, that lasted as long as it took me to get to the car door. He brushed me deftly aside and tried to open the passenger side for me. I gave him a hard look.
"I know how to open a door," I said.
His gaze was inscrutable in the shadows. "But apparently not how to accept a bit of chivalry," he said.
That little tussle next to the car made for a long and tense trip to the Gala and by the time we arrived, I was completely ready to beg his forgiveness. He looked much like he had the first night I had met him, fingers clenched on the wheel, staring straight ahead. I resolved to let him open the door for me when we parked. Instead, he pushed out his side and started heading directly toward the convention centre, leaving me alone on my side of the car.
I deserved it and I knew it, but I couldn't resist honking the horn. It blared loudly and long, then three short blows that made several of the fancy dressed people turn on their heels and stare in my direction. It felt so good to see the looks on their faces. In the lights along the Parkside I could see that Callum's jaw was clenched. I tooted the horn-again for good measure.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and for a second, I thought he wasn't going to come my way, but he did. He made his way over to my side and pulled open the door, holding it open while I slipped a high-heeled foot out onto the pavement. I thought I turned my ankle very prettily.
I expected him to be surly, but when I stole a look up at him I could see that he was grinning.
"I don't know what I was thinking ignoring you like that," he said and reached out for my hand.
"I don't either," I said, immediately contrite in the face of his chivalry. "I'm sorry about my behaviour."
"You mean the horn?"
He grinned broadly, showing me those perfect teeth and the dimple in his cheek. "Shall we?" He held out his elbow and I took it, feeling very adult and very star-struck at the elegance of the event.
No more than half an hour later, my feet and ankles were aching in the heels and I took my chance while Callum slipped out to the bathroom to wobble over to the punch table. I leaned onto it, gripping the edges so that I could take some of the pressure off my feet. I couldn't figure out what made women wear such atrocities on a daily basis. Even my toes felt pinched and sore.
Several glasses of bubbling champagne sat next to the virgin punch and no one lurked near enough to marshal the handing out of such beverages. A drink was what I needed. Not virgin punch either. I was overly anxious and in pain. Booze was just the ticket to ease some of the anxiety of trying to stroll about and dance in heels too high for me to walk in.
With a quick peek around the room, I let my hand trail over to the stem of a long glass of bubbling wine. I grabbed it and pulled it close, putting my back to the room as I did so.
"Any sophisticated escort would have already made sure you had a glass in hand," a drawling voice said as I put the rim of the glass to my lips. I froze, not sure what to do since I was obviously underage despite the sexy dress. I contemplated setting the glass back down, but it was too hard won and so I upended it before I turned to the speaker.
Which meant I choked on the bubbles as I realized who was standing next to me.
"You're the guy I nearly killed," I said.
CHAPTER 8
I immediately went into a coughing fit as the bubbles frothed up my nose. Standing there dressed in a tuxedo far more elegant than the one Callum had rented was the blonde who reminded me so terribly of Sarah. The guy who had stepped in front of my scooter just two weeks earlier and who I had knocked unconscious and sent to the hospital as a result.
The last time I had seen him had been in the crypt after Nehkbet had merged with the deceased infant buried in our backyard. He looked different tonight. Dressed to kill. A glass of champagne in both hands. He passed one to me as though he didn't realize I was underage.
"Rory, right? Still working on cataloguing all those religious skeletons?" I said and took the flute from him because he had just seen me swallow down an entire glass like it was water. Better to think I was actually of age than to try to explain myself.
He quirked his head at me as though he found the question interesting. "You remember that?"
I nodded and sipped at the edge of the flute. "It's not every day you meet a guy rich enough to purchase an old church and turn it into a museum."
He put his glass to his lips and sipped at its edge, peering over it at me. I thought he was studying me; his gaze was certainly intense enough. It was making me nervous.
My chest felt very warm and my legs felt as though someone had poured hot oil down my skin. I figured I should cool it off with another drink, and when I did, everything slowed down to a nice pace. That was better; much easier to focus, though things started to spin a bit.
"You remind me of someone," I blurted out.
Those blond eyebrows rose. "Do tell me." He took the glass from me and set it on the table before plucking another stem from the assortment.
I took it from him with a short nod. "My friend, Sarah," I said. "She has the same hair." I reached out to touch it as though I knew him already. It was soft. Strangely enough, he didn't move to deflect my touch. Instead, he leaned into it, tilting his head so that I could cop a good feel.
"Blondes like us are rare," he said, tilting his glass at me. "Much like redheads."
My eyelids felt a little droopy. When I blinked, I felt as though they were moving in slow motion. I ran my fingers through my own loose tresses, pulling a handful forward so I could look at it. The strands were nothing but a blur of color.
"I wouldn't call this red," I said. "My mother was the one with real red hair. Compared to her, this stuff is just ginger."
I felt a twinge of sadness as I thought of my mother. Her hair had been flaming red. And she'd been so beautiful. Willowy and tall but with the strength of an oak. I still couldn't believe she was gone and that she had left me alone to face the world. I teared up and swiped the liquid from my cheek determined. She was gone but I wasn't alone. I had plenty of people who loved me. I had to remind myself of that.
He moved closer. He was handsome enough, although something about him seemed cold and distant no matter how close he stood.
"I can't imagine a more beautiful shade than yours," he said. "Tell me, Ayla, is that burly fireman of yours the father of your daughter? The baby you had with you in the crypt that day?"
I laughed out loud and nearly twisted my ankle out of my heels. "Father?" She's not even my daughter." I giggled. "Hell, she's not even human."
I tittered and hiccuped like an idiot. Everything felt so deliciously warm. Even the dance floor seemed coated in waves of heat.
A firm grip on my arm from the back startled me and a gruff, warning voice that accompanied it made me swing around, trying to adjust my eyesight from the sudden movement.
Callum. I smiled up at him, pleased to see him. "Callum," I said. "You remember Rory."
"I think you've had enough," Callum said. It took a few seconds for his face to swim back into focus.
"You won't believe this," I said cheerily. "Rory here thinks you're Nicki's dad." I barked out a laugh and took a last slug of the champagne.
Callum wrenched the glass from my hand and nearly yanked my shoulder out of its socket as he pulled me away from Rory. His glare toward the blonde was icy enough to freeze water, but Rory merely quirked one of those blonde brows with a sort of half interest.
"She's underage," Callum said. "I could have you arrested."
"Could you now?" Rory said and all seeming friendliness left his voice. "And what are you doing dating a minor?" He lifted one brow in a cocky, meaningful way.
Callum sputtered at that. "A date between friends isn't a crime."
"I'm nearly eighteen," I piped up and held up a finger. "One month to go."
I looked from one man to the other in confusion. Except for the fact I had admittedly snuck a few glasses of champagne when I shouldn't have, I couldn't understand what all the hubbub was about.
Callum's arm slipped around my waist and I snuggled in automatically. I felt much steadier on my feet then.
"You're warm," I said, looking up at him.
His lips compressed into a thin line. "Maybe it's time I got you home."
At that moment, Rory cleared his throat, and I remembered him standing there. How could I have forgotten? I gave him a sweet smile. Callum should be proud of me for being so pleasant.
"Nice seeing you again, Rory," I said.
"It's nice to see that smile of yours, Ayla," he said. "Such nice teeth."
He reached out and ran the back of his fingers down along my cheek and for a second I felt as though everything in the room had gone dark. I felt woozy and unsteady.
Callum's arm tightened around me as though he thought I was about to fall. "Are you all right, Ayla?"
I peered up at him with my hand on his chest to steady myself. I had to squint at him to bring him into focus. "I'm not sure," I said. "Must be the booze."
I glanced toward Rory, thinking to apologize, but he had spun around on his heel and was heading out to the crowds. I watched him pushing himself through the dance floor. Rude. Several dancers glared at his back as he made his progress out.
"He's in an awful hurry," I said and hiccuped again.
"I'm glad he's gone," Callum said.
"Me too," I said just to be agreeable. The next hiccup hurt my chest and I winced.
Callum gave me a long look and I felt as though I was going to take a dive into those eyes of his. "Like seawater," I said. "Green and cold and yet someho
w still very enticing."
"I think I should get you home," he said. "I think you need to go to bed."
I chuckled. Home. Bed. There was a joke there somewhere but I couldn't think of it. Instead I leaned against him heavily and enjoyed the way his arm held onto me. All of that cologne washed over me, making my very warm limbs feel as though I was swimming in warm fragrance.
"Remember the time we slept together?" I said, giggling.
He shushed me angrily and I realized I must have spoken too loud. A lady wearing a long gauzy white dress gave Callum a disapproving look. I waved my hand toward her. "It's alright," I said to her. "We just slept together once."
It seemed silly now to remember how scared I was of him. I couldn't imagine anything better than going home and climbing into a bed where he was warming the blankets.
Callum gripped me by the elbow and eddied me toward the exit.
I peered up at him, wondering how I had suddenly become so much more fluid on my feet than before.
"Do you remember?" I said, wanting to hear him say he did. "When we slept together, I mean?"
"It's not something a man can forget," he said and there was a huskiness to his voice that I didn't expect. He was aiming me toward the door, even in my state I was aware of that.
"Are you taking me home with you?" I said with a titter.
"You've obviously had too much to drink," he said and pushed the door to the convention centre open. I shivered as the cold air struck my bare shoulders. He pulled off his jacket and draped it over me. Both of his arms went around my waist beneath the jacket as he pulled me into a warm cocoon of an embrace. I ran my hands up between his shoulder blades almost as though some part of me was checking for evidence of wings that could never have been there. We stood there in the light for long moments as he looked down at me. I thought he might kiss me again. I waited for it. I even tilted my chin upward, expecting his lips to land on mine.
Rise (Reaper's Redemption Book 3) Page 6
