Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
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My teeth gritted together and my entire body locked with annoyance. I sure as hells didn't want to talk to Irma Szarvas, especially while trailing the girl I was kind-of courting.
I hung up on Irma and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.
She phoned back immediately.
I didn't pick up and the cell phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing
Infuriated, I scooped it up and pressed receive. "What do you want Irma? And stop it with the fiancé shit. We both know it's bullshit!"
"Not for me Varen. You know I lov—"
"Don't you dare!" I quickly bellowed before she got to finish that fucked up confession. "Spit out what you want and make it fast." A crack came from the phone as the fire burning inside my chest had my fingers clenching hard around its boxy plastic outer.
"I need to know what you'll be wearing to the party."
I scowled. "What party?"
"Oh, Varen," she laughed. "Our party—yours and mine. We'll be hosting something big and grand with all the other Houses later, but for now, my family is holding an intimate gathering between our two families to celebrate when the Contract of Intentions is finally signed."
A clammy sweat broke out all over my body.
Of course, my father was going through with the fucking union negotiations.
"When is this party?" I ground out, slowing down and weaving between the traffic to tail Tabitha as she changed lanes, indicating she was turning back into the city.
"In a week's time. That's why I need to know what you're planning to wear. I'm trying to decide which dress or if I should have a brand new one designed." Irma made a contemplative noise at the back of her throat, and I heard metal clacks and swishes as if she were going through her wardrobe, flicking between ten-thousand-dollar dresses. "I think it'd be best if you wear a classic black tuxedo. Long tails. Oh, with a silver bow tie."
"I don't do fucking long tails or bow ties, Irma, you know this."
"I do," she softly purred, and it made me feel I'd been baited to reply in a way that would remind me of what we once were. "How about this, when I decide on which dress, I'll pick your tie and send it over to you. That way we'll match perfectly."
Digging a hand in my hair, I clenched the locks and tugged so hard it hurt. That oppressive feeling of being boxed in compressed my ribs and made it difficult to breathe. Despair burned like acid down my throat. What was I doing pursuing Tabitha when I was going to be locked into a marriage with Irma?
"I won't be there, Irma, I'm busy with work."
"You'll be there," she persisted, with such an air of confidence that it had me slamming the cell phone several times against the steering wheel.
