One
A young girl, maybe eight or nine, greeted me at the only unlocked door. Her dark hair was braided tight against her skull, the tail tucked into the collar of her shirt, and she wore a fitted tee with two crossed cartoon swords appliqued on the front. She paired it with loose pajama bottoms, tiny bare feet, and a feral glare that dared me to underestimate her.
Warg.
Definitely warg.
“What do you want?” She blocked the entrance to the gymnasium the Lollybrook Women’s Shelter rented once a month with her small—but fierce—body. “Well, lady?” She jerked her chin toward the sidewalk. “If you’re looking for Thin Mints, there’s a Girl Scout troop with nothing better to do than take your money three doors down.”
A smile tickled the corner of my mouth, but I kept it off my face. “I’m looking for Midas Kinase.”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re one of them.”
Though I could guess, I still asked, “Them?”
“We call them his fan club.” Her laugh was short and mean and made her hard eyes glitter. “They come to watch him teach and hope they’ll get chosen as his partner.”
The shadow at my feet coiled in response to my unexpected spike in temper. “I see.”
“You’re wasting your time.” She bared her teeth. “And mine.” She glared. “The class is almost over.”
“He left his phone at my place.” I reached into my pocket. “I need to give it back to him.”
“Sure, he did.” She shook her head. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.”
Pushing out a slow exhale, I tried again. “Tell him his girlfriend is here.”
I almost choked on the word, but it was guaranteed to snag his attention. It sure got hers.
“You really want me to embarrass you like that?” She glanced behind her, inviting me to do the same, as if I might have somehow missed the standing-room-only basketball court layered in thick mats. “In front of all these people?”
All those craning necks, scrunched brows, and thinned lips curious about me? All those yearning hopefuls praying he would tap their shoulder and ask if he could put his hands on them? All those women without a single shadow darkening their eyes who made a mockery of his dedication because this space was open to the public?
Heck yes.
“Yeah.” I bared my own teeth. “I do.”
“All right.” She propped the door open with its built-in kickstand but held up her hand. “Wait here.”
“Sure thing.”
The girl pivoted on her heel and marched into the packed gymnasium with starch in her spine that made my chest ache. She was a tough kid, and I respected that. But it made me want to break the world’s face for roughing her up so young.
Without her barring my access, I got a clear picture of the chaotic scene and wished I hadn’t.
No seats were available in the bleachers. Not a one. Women stood shoulder to shoulder on the polished floor, their shoes pressed into the mats as they shuffled closer and closer to the action.
Most of the crowd wore flashy clothing and carefully applied makeup. Jewelry. They weren’t dressed to participate. They were here for one reason, and one reason only.
One blond-haired, blue-eyed reason dressed in a sweat-soaked wifebeater and loose jogging pants.
Midas paused in leading a group of rail-thin girls with lank hair and haunted eyes through a kata when he spotted the pint-sized bouncer en route.
“Midas,” she said, her voice loud enough to carry. “Your girlfriend is here.”
An invisible hand pressed a cosmic mute button, and the chatter in the gym died a swift death.
Nostrils flaring, Midas whipped his head toward the doorway where I stood.
And he smiled.
Like I was the only person in the world.
Like the dozens of onlookers no longer existed for him.
Like I had made his whole night by showing up out of the blue.
A tremor in my knees warned me I was in over my head with him and sinking fast, but I held my ground.
“Wait.” The girl scrunched up her nose. “She’s really your girlfriend?”
The kid looked me up and down, a frank assessment of the results from running five miles after I woke at dusk.
Sweaty blonde hair curled beneath a discount Atlanta Braves ball cap. Stains darkened the underarms of a thrift store tank top. Bleach splotched my ripped leggings. Mismatched socks peeked out above the ratty heels of unbranded sneakers with holes in both toes. A rusty safety pin kept the left strap on my sports bra from unraveling. And, the pièce de résistance, a pimple dead center in my forehead, large enough to be my third eye.
This level of sexy couldn’t be taught. Either you were born with it, or you died trying.
Dozens of gazes fell on me, assessing and dismissing me as a potential rival, as the women waited for him to blow me off and get back to teaching.
“You forgot your phone.” I held it up, pinched between two fingers. “Figured you might want it back.”
With the debt we owed Natisha hanging over us, our phones were our lifelines.
Ford was worth the astronomical debt we incurred with the vicious old fae, but I dreaded paying up.
Seven hearts.
Still beating.
Goddess.
“Excuse me,” Midas told the girls, then appointed one to continue the exercise. He raked his long fingers through his damp and wavy hair then loped over to me. “You didn’t have to bring it all the way down here.”
“I was in the neighborhood.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Like two-thirds of the women in that gym.”
That dangerous smile of his turned predatory. “Jealous?”
“You’re the one with a raging crush on me.” I rolled a shoulder. “I keep you around because it’s cute.”
The flash of his teeth set my stomach quivering as he leaned in. “You think I’m cute?”
“I didn’t say you.” I pricked his princely ego. “Your crush.” I watched him deflate. “That’s what’s cute.”
A low growl rumbled through his chest, but the pint-sized bouncer jostled him aside for a better view.
“She’s really your girlfriend?” Eyes narrowed, she squinted between us. “Like for real?”
“Hadley Whitaker, this is Dani.” He squeezed her narrow shoulder, a quick flex of his fingers, but neither looked wholly comfortable with it. “She helps us keep out the riffraff.” He didn’t hesitate as he locked gazes with me. “Dani Freidman, this is Hadley, my girlfriend.”
The title from his lips pooled cold sweat in the small of my back. The coldest. Downright arctic. Antarctic.
Midas Kinase was my boyfriend.
Hecate be merciful.
“Hadley. Whitaker.” Dani’s mouth fell open. “The Hadley Whitaker?” She clung to Midas’s arm, her nails leaving crescents in his skin. “The next Potentate of Atlanta Hadley Whitaker?”
The clear view of her tonsils freaked me out a little. “That’s what it says on my underwear.”
Midas wiped a hand down his face, but he wasn’t quick enough to erase the beginnings of a smile.
“I’m your biggest fan,” Dani gushed, the tough shell around her cracking to reveal the little girl sheltered beneath all that life experience. “I didn’t recognize you, I swear, or I wouldn’t have hassled you.”