“You’ll be fine,” he promises, reaching toward the top shelf and grabbing a pair of thigh-high, lace-up boots. “Wear these. And if you can find some fingerless gloves in your dresser, put those on, too.” He waits for me to nod then steps out of the closet and opens the door to leave.
I glance down at the corset, at all the ribbons and clasps on the back.
Awesome. I’m never going to be able to get this on myself.
“Arrow, wait,” I call out, glad I chose him to help me with this task. I don’t even want to imagine how Asher or East would react over the question I’m about to ask.
He pauses with the door halfway open, glancing at me with his brows knit. “What’s wrong?”
I hold up the corset. “I might need some help getting this on.”
His throat muscles work as he swallows hard. “Maybe I should go get East or Asher.”
“I’d rather you help me.” When he frowns, I hurriedly add, “Never mind. I’ll figure it out myself.”
He remains standing in the doorway for a faerie kiss of a second before stepping back inside and shutting the door. “No, it’s fine. I can help.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, and he nods. “Okay, give me a second to slip it on. Then I’ll have you do up all the ribbons and clasps on the back.”
He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Okay.”
Offering him a thankful smile, I duck back into the closet. Then I peel my shirt off and start trying to figure out the best way to wiggle into the corset. Slipping it over my head seems too complicated, so I decide to step into it and slide it up over my hips.
“Do creatures dress differently on all the planets?” I ask as I pull the leather corset up my body.
“Yeah, everywhere has its own style,” he replies with a hint of uneasiness. “Shimmerland is very shimmery. Here they dress more steampunk. Planet Water is probably the worst, though.”
“Why’s that?” I suck in as I slip the corset over my breasts. Gods, these things are even more uncomfortable than they look.
“Because at least half the creatures walk around naked.”
“What? Please tell me you’re joking. Or at least tell me we’re not going there.”
“Um … I’m joking, and we’re not going there?” he says it more like a question.
“You’re a terrible liar. Has anyone ever told you that?” And come to think of it, I can vaguely recall Asher mentioning that we’re going to planet Water.
Lovely. I can imagine the sort of jokes East is going to come up with about following the dress code.
“Actually, yeah,” Arrow replies. “I hear that a lot.”
“It’s okay, though. I kind of like it.”
“Why’s that?” he asks curiously.
I press my hands against my chest to hold the corset in place as I step out of the closet. “Because I’ve spent a lot of time around people who are excellent liars, and it gets tiring.”
He smashes his lips together, his gaze scrolling up and down my body. If he were East or Asher, I’m sure he’d make some sort of dirty remark about the cleavage popping out of the top, but he remains silent as walks toward me, making a circular motion with his finger. “Turn around so I can do all the laces and clasps up.”
I turn my back to him. “Try not to do it up too tightly. I can barely breathe right now as it is. But try not make it too loose, or else it might fall off and everyone will think I’m from planet Water.”
He chuckles, his breath dusting the back of my neck as he brushes his fingers along my back.
I peek over my shoulder at him. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s nothing.” He shakes his head, smiling.
I narrow my eyes at him playfully. “Obviously, it’s something, or else you wouldn’t be grinning.”
“Maybe …” He sighs, but the smile on his face remains as he laces up the ribbon on the bottom of the corset. “I was just thinking how irritated East and Asher probably are right now.”
“Why? Because you’re in here with me?” I wince as he moves to the next ribbon and tugs on it.
“Yeah … They’re probably losing their minds with wondering what we’re doing.” He yanks on the third ribbon, pulling the leather tighter against my chest.
I grin, facing forward again. “We should pretend like we’re doing something wicked just to fuck with them.”
“What should we pretend to do?” His fingers slightly tremble as he moves to the next ribbon and softly tugs on it. “Your skin’s so soft,” he murmurs, skimming his fingertips up the mid-section of my back.
“That might be a good place to start,” I breathe out, feeling breathless. I’m going to blame that on this death grip of a top and not on the way his fingers are lightly tickling my skin. “Maybe say it a bit louder, though, so they can hear you.”
He chuckles, sweeping my hair to the side and out of the way. Then his laughter fizzles. “What is this?” He sketches his fingers over the space of skin between my shoulder blades, and a shiver rolls through me.
I peer over my shoulder at him. “What is what?”
He meets my gaze, a crinkle between his brows. “How long have you had this tattoo? Because it looks really fresh.”
“What tattoo?” I honestly have no clue what he’s talking about.
He briefly studies me before steering me across the room and into the bathroom connected to the bedroom. Then he positions me between two mirrors hanging on opposing walls so I can see my back.
Sure enough, between my shoulder blades is what appears to be a tattoo in the shape of a star, the dark purple ink contrasting with my pale skin.
Holding up the corset with one hand, I reach back and trace my fingertip along the star and across the strange shapes and symbols inside of it. “I’ve never seen this before.”
“So, it’s new and just appeared?” Arrow leans down to inspect it.
“Not necessarily. I mean, I can’t remember the last time I’ve actually seen my back, if ever, so it might’ve been there for a while.” I shift my weight as his breath tickles my skin. “Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I looked at myself in a mirror.”
He lifts his head in surprise. “You can’t remember the last time you looked at your reflection?”
“No, just not looked at it in a mirror. I’ve seen it plenty of times in windows and in water.”
A trace of pity masks his expression. Then he sets his hands on my shoulders and turns me toward the full-length mirror on the wall beside the sink. “Well, now’s your chance.”
I angle my head to the side, taking in my big eyes; my messy, long, brown hair; the freckles on my nose; and my extremely long legs.
“I don’t think I’ve been missing out on much.”
He shakes his head. “You have no idea just how uniquely gorgeous you are, do you?”
A sweet thing to say, but entirely inaccurate.
I offer him a small smile. “Thanks for saying that, but I look like every other human. And I’m okay with that. There are way more important things in life than being pretty. Besides, if I were gorgeous, then I probably would’ve been forced into prostitution by the underground mafia. Or worse, turned into a paranormal’s plaything.”
He rubs his lips together then captures my gaze in the mirror. “Do you know we thought you were an artificial human when we first met you?”
“I heard you guys talking about it, but I’m not sure what that is, so …” I shrug, the movement awkward with his hands on my shoulders.
“There’s a factory here on planet Steel where cyborgs are created.” He gives a short pause, sorrow masking his face. But, as quickly as the look arises, it erases. “There’s been rumors that the manufacturers have been trying to come up with a way to create more realistic cyborgs, ones that are created completely of flesh, bone, blood, and organs so they resemble a human, but they have the strength and abilities of a cyborg.”
“And you guys thought I might’ve been one them?” I ask, and he nods. �
��Why? Because your sensors register me as human, yet clearly, I’m not?”
“That was part of it. But it was also because of how you look.” He nervously reaches around and brushes strands of my hair around. “You look human-ish, but if my sensors didn’t register you as human, I’d have guessed you were a faerie.”
I snort a laugh. “I’m nowhere near pretty enough to be a faerie.”
“Yes, you are,” he insists. “In fact, you sort of look like Lavender.”
I give him a blank stare. “You think I look like a flower?”
He smiles, his eyes crinkling around the corners. “No, the Shimmerland princess.” I start to shake my head when he says, “Take a look if you don’t believe me.” Reaching over, he places his palm on the small hologram window that’s currently showing a view of a serene field lined with daisies. “Show me the Shimmerland princess.”
The daisies and field shift into a magical area covered with trees and moss and vines blooming with glittering silver flowers that sparkle against the iridescent light shimmering down from the sky. Standing in the center of it all, next to a wooden throne carved from a tree trunk, is a faerie who looks around my age, although she’s more than likely older. Her big eyes reflect the light that Shimmerland emits and her long, purple hair whips in the wind as she strides forward, her long, green dress trailing across the ground. Her pale skin sparkles, and her features are startling flawless.
“You think I look like her?” I give Arrow a are-you-crazy look.
He lightly brushes his fingers across the top of my head. “Aside from the purple hair, yes.”
I shake my head as I glance back at the hologram. “Yeah, I don’t see it. She’s way too …” I try to think of the right word to describe her. “Otherworldly-looking.”
“If you had purple hair or shimmering skin, you would, too,” he insists. “And even without that, you still look otherworldly sometimes. And I’m sure others have thought that. But, since you register as human and haven’t shown any signs of having powers until the other day, I’m sure everyone just assumes you’re a gorgeous human.”
“You’re overwhelming me with flattery,” I joke, feeling extremely uncomfortable. Not just with how many times he’s called me gorgeous, but because I’m starting to wonder if Arrow, Asher, and East may not have been the only ones to think this about me.
When the underground mafia called me in to strike a bargain to save Jason’s life, Lead, the leader, asked me a strange question. At the time, I couldn’t figure out why.
“Maybe we can strike a bargain to save your friend’s life,” he said, thrumming his fingers against his desk. “Let me hear what your gifts are, and I’ll see if you’re of any use to me.”
“Well, I’m great at stealing stuff.” I said the only thing I could think of.
“I already know that,” he replied. “But, tell me how.”
“Why I make such a great thief?” I was so confused.
He nodded, leaning forward and resting his arms on the desk. “Tell me about your gifts and how you manage to get into places without being seen. And tell me the truth. If you lie, your friend dies.”
So, I proceeded to tell him about my awesome lock-picking skills, my soundless footsteps, and my ability to create a great distraction.
He seemed super unimpressed and questioned if I wasn’t telling him everything. He spent over an hour making me answer question after question about my past, my current life, and why I could easily sneak into places most humans couldn’t. Eventually, he struck the genie-lamp deal with me, but he seemed almost disappointed about it.
Thinking back, he threw the word gifts around a lot. I thought he meant my ability to sneak around and stuff like that. Maybe, though, he knew I was different and that was why he accused me of lying to him several times.
Then again, he could’ve just been wary that I wouldn’t be able to steal the lamp.
“What’s wrong?” Arrow asks with a crease between his brows.
“It’s nothing …” I yank my mind away from memory lane. “I was just remembering when I met Lead—the leader of the underground mafia. He was really interested in my gifts and was asking me all sorts of questions, but I think maybe he was just making sure I could hold up my end of the deal. He seemed super paranoid. He even made me sign a contract in blood.”
His eyes widen. “He has some of your blood?”
“Well, some of my dried blood on a piece of paper …” I tense as I feel a wave of anxiety roll over him. “What’s wrong? Why are you panicking?”
“It’s nothing.” He shakes his head, his posture stiff. “Let me do up the rest of the corset so you can get dressed.” He starts lacing up the ribbons again.
I wince as the corset constricts around my chest, my breasts curving out of the top.
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong? You seem upset.”
“I’m fine. I just realized how late it is. We should probably get to the city soon, or else we won’t have time to get things done before our concert tonight.” He secures the last ribbon then steps away from me. “I’m going to go get a few things. Meet me in the living room when you’re finished getting dressed, okay?” He hurries out of the bathroom without waiting for me to reply.
I watch him leave, more than aware that he’s keeping something from me. But what?
My mention of the blood contract seemed to have set off his anxiety, but even before that, when he was staring at the star tattoo on my back, he appeared edgy. And what even caused the tattoo to suddenly appear? It’s not like I ever got one. I’d remember if I did.
Turning around, I look at my back in the mirror again. The ink looks fresh, just like Arrow said. Reaching around, I run my finger along the tattoo. For the craziest moment, I swear I feel sparkly. But, as swiftly as the sensation emerged, it fizzles away, leaving me to wonder if I imagined it.
Then again, a lot of strange things have been happening, so who the hell really knows?
Chapter 3
After Arrow leaves the room, I quickly put on the skirt then rummage around for some fingerless gloves and knee-high tights to wear underneath the boots. I throw clothes out of the dresser and onto the floor, not bothering to pick it up. Why the rush? Because I’m hoping, if I can get dressed quickly enough, I may be able to do a bit of eavesdropping on the guys and figure out what had Arrow acting stiffer than a … well, a cyborg. But like it’s been mentioned before, Arrow isn’t like other cyborgs, so his rigidness seems out of character for him.
It takes me longer than I’d like to find the gloves and tights, but I eventually do. Then I hurriedly tug the gloves on, slip the tights over my legs, and then lace up the boots over them. I top the look off with a velvet choker, pin my hair up in a mess of waves and braids, and then dash toward the door, not bothering to glance at my reflection. Not just because I’m in a rush, but because I’m worried that, if I actually see myself, I’ll want to change into an outfit that will cover up my legs and chest area.
Seriously, while the material of the skirt is soft, the hem is extremely high in the front, resting about mid-thigh. And the corset is worse, barely covering my chest. Not that I’m super modest or anything like that. I’ve just always been a holey jeans and T-shirt sort of girl. And this outfit is … well, it’s sexy. And I’m not sexy. I’m a kickass thief who knows how to defend herself if she needs to. If I had to try to fight in this getup, I’d probably end up falling on my ass.
“This outfit better make me blend in,” I mutter as I crack open the door and slip into the hallway.
I cringe as the heels of the boots softly click against the floor and the fabric of the dress swishes.
So much for sneaking up on the guys.
I really hope they don’t expect me to steal the Steel books in this.
Despite my noisy outfit, I do my best to quietly creep down the hallway—
“Oh, Asher, how I’ve missed you!”
I freeze at the sound of a feminine voice. What in the worlds?
/> “Now, Darla, I know that’s not true,” East replies lightly. “No one ever misses Asher.”
Arrow snorts a laugh. “I’ll toast to that.”
“Now, now,” the woman scolds jokingly. “What have I told you about teasing my poor, grumpy Asher.”
Her poor, grumpy Asher? What the shit?
“That we should do it as often as possible,” East replies wickedly.
“And to make sure to hide his lamp while we do,” Arrow adds, his upbeat tone almost unrecognizable.
Who the heck is in there with them? And why do they sound so happy?
Taking a deep breath, I peer around the corner and into the living room.
Arrow is sitting on a chair with his boot-clad feet kicked up on the coffee table; East is near the bar, filling a glass with a sparkling silver liquid; and Asher is lounging on the sofa with his arms stretched out across the back, a relaxed smile on his face.
A relaxed Asher? That actually exists?
My gaze travels to the fourth person in the room; a female-type creature standing near the kitchen. Tall, curvy, and wearing a pinstriped dress and thigh-high boots, she looks maybe a handful of years older than me, but it’s hard to tell for sure. And she’s definitely paranormal; her long hair like fire, her lips stained crimson, and her pale white eyes glow against the low lighting in the room.
What is she?
“You seem in an awfully good mood,” she says to Asher as she raises a glass to her lips. “Any particular reason?”
He flashes her a grin. “Because you’re here, of course.”
She takes a sip of her drink then struts across the room and sits down on his lap. “I’ve missed you,” she purrs, running her fingers through his hair. “We need to start seeing each other more often, especially if you’re going to be this elated to see me.”
Asher’s lips pull into a grin as he slips his arms around her waist. “Oh, I’m beyond elated to see you, baby.”
Baby? Gag me.
His gaze drops to her lips, flames blazing in his eyes. She wets her lips with her tongue and leans in, her lips nearing his …
Chasing Magic Page 3
