I pulled the tie out of my hair and ran my fingers through the silken strands. “What are you? Twelve?”
She crossed her arms and arched a brow. “You want to fuck him, don’t you?”
“Pfft. He kissed me, okay. He instigated it, and I responded because I needed to get the anger under control. That’s it.”
“So, you didn’t get the fanny flutters.”
I grabbed the hairbrush and began dragging it through my hair. “Nope.”
“Liar,” Cyril said from his position on the bed.
There was a hole somewhere he was using to sneak in. I needed to find it and plug it. “You know, I liked it better when you couldn’t talk.”
“I could alwayss talk, you just never lisstened. My advice is, let your hair down, have sssome fun. Mal can be your friend with benefitsss.”
“Sorry, can’t understand you, with all the hissing and all.”
He made a strange wheezing sound. Wait, was he laughing at me?
“He’s right,” Cora said. “Isn’t your hand getting tired of all the wanking?”
I dropped the brush. “Fucking hell, Cor, is nothing sacred anymore?” I sniffed. “Besides, I picked up Errol today, so I’m all good.”
“Who’s Errol?” Cyril asked.
“Fee’s plastic cock,” Cora said.
I refused to be embarrassed. There was nothing wrong with getting yourself off, and Errol was really fucking good at it. And like hell would I become one of Mal’s women. I wanted more than that from a bedroom partner. I wanted love. Okay, it sounded sappy, but there it was. Romantic, old-fashioned me.
“I don’t need a fuckbuddy.” I winced as the bristles of the brush snagged on a tangle. “I’m fine. I have it all under control. Strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man to get off.”
“And the anger?” Cora said. “How is that?”
My hands faltered mid-braid. “I’m dealing.”
“What if Mal hadn’t been with you?” Cor asked the question that had been running through my mind. “What then? You said it was bad, like you would have lost-your-shit-berserker bad.”
And that had only happened once before. I mean, I’d had the rage, but this episode would have been one of epic proportions.
I set the brush down on the dresser and turned to face her. “I don’t know, Cor, but I’ll deal with it. I just need to not get so worked up.” My smile felt fake.
She gave me a skeptical look.
The anger had started a year ago after Aunt Lara died. But Cor had always been there to curb it. To calm me down. And now, I had my bodyguards, my shadows. But what happened when the rage hit me when I was alone? Part of me whispered that there was something wrong with me, but I squashed it. I didn’t have time to have things wrong with me.
“Maybe ask Azazel?” Cora suggested.
Ooh, Azazel … of course. He’d taught me how to shield and do all the other stuff, maybe he had some ideas on how to control the anger. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Cora replied.
Kiara popped her head around the door. “Dinner is ready.” She smiled at Cora, but it was a dodgy smile. A conspiratorial smile. “I thought we could all eat together in the dining room.”
No one ate in the dining room. We rarely ate together. Something was up. But Kiara was already gone.
I was being ridiculous. It was the guilt talking. The guilt of almost kissing a friend’s betrothed because Kiara had become a friend.
I was a bitch.
I didn’t deserve to eat.
But what if she’d made the tiny little sugared donut things with the pink frosting? My mouth pooled with saliva at the thought.
No. No, I did not deserve them. “You know what, I’m not hungry.” I sat on my bed. “Can you tell Kiara sorry from me?”
Cora rolled her eyes. “Enough. So you almost kissed her fiancé. What counts is that you didn’t. But snubbing her when she’s made an effort with dinner is just mean. You know how much Kiara loves to cook.”
“I’ll have to face Conah. I don’t want to be in the same room as him right now.”
“Tough. Man up.”
She was right. As usual. “Fine.”
“Mind if I sit next to you while you eat and pretend that I can taste stuff?”
“Sure.”
“Mind if I sleep on your bed?” Cyril asked.
But he’d already curled up and tucked his head into his coils. I had no idea why he bothered asking permission.
Cora and I headed down to the first floor where the kitchen and dining room were situated. She floated off ahead, using her ghost ability to put distance between us. For someone who couldn’t actually eat any of the food, she was pretty eager. She slipped through the closed dining room doors, leaving me to follow.
The aroma hit me as I got closer. Oh, man. I knew that smell. Ribs. Fucking barbecue sticky ribs. They were my favorite. Kiara, you beauty. How did demons do ribs? What ribs would we be eating? No, don’t dwell, just think pork or beef and eat. They had cow-like animals here. I’d seen them in the market at Senki.
I pushed open the doors to the room and froze. Faces looked back at me. Banners and balloons hung from the ceiling, and then Kiara and Cora shouted in unison.
“Happy birthday!”
Chapter Five
With all the shit going on, the date had slipped my mind. It was my birthday, and the evidence of my eyes and ears suggested that Cora and Kiara had teamed up to throw me a party. Although, from the look on Azazel’s face, he’d rather be anywhere else but here. He sat with a party hat perched on his head, arms crossed, glaring at the silver plate piled high with ribs as if it was offensive. Conah wouldn’t meet my eyes.
I never thought I’d say it, but thank fuck for Mal. We hadn’t spoken about the kiss we’d shared outside my house, and I didn’t think we were going to. It was done. It served a purpose, and now it was over.
He greeted me with a raised goblet and blew me a kiss. His emerald peepers were filled with mirth. He slid a glance toward Azazel, who was pulling at the elastic string of the hat Kiara had obviously made him wear.
I bit the insides of my cheeks to stop from smiling.
“Sit, sit.” Kiara pulled out the chair at the head of the table opposite Azazel.
Conah sat on the left side of the table two seats up and Mal to my right a seat away.
“I made all your favorites,” Kiara said. “And there’s cake. I understand you have cake to celebrate your day of birth?” She looked about the room as if to make sure everything was as it should be. “Is this how you celebrate? Did I do it right?”
Wait a second. “You don’t celebrate birthdays?”
Azazel snorted.
It was Mal that answered. “We live too fucking long to care,” he said. “Birthdays are a human thing. They have value because human lives are so short.”
That made sense, I guess. “Do you do anything to mark the passage of each year and keep track of how old you are?”
“Nope,” Mal said. He sipped his margarita.
Yeah, definitely a margarita. I could smell it. Yummy. “Can I have one of those?”