“Perry’s the new girl?”
“Yep.”
Kye started swirling his peppermint through the droopy whipped cream in his mug. “Why do you stick around?”
I asked myself that all the time and I always arrived back at the same answer. “My family’s here. Besides, the only school district hiring is hours away. I’d have to move. Anyway,” I sighed, and drained the last of my coco, “once my Evergreen Queen contract is up in a couple seasons, I don’t have to see Perry as much.”
“As much?” His gaze was heavy. It made me uncomfortable... in a pleasant, I-haven’t-been-looked-at-that-way-in-a-long-time sort of way. Like he was trying to understand me. “Why would you ever have to see her again?”
“About that...” I hedged, fiddling with the balled napkin in my hand. “Perry’s actually my cousin.”
“Well, fuck.”
“I know. I must’ve accrued some shitty karma in a past life.”
“Karma?”
“What goes around, comes around. Kinda like a checks and balance of life. You do bad shit, bad shit will come for you later on.”
“Interesting...”
“You know... you don’t talk like I expected. You curse and speak English. Most non-natives just use implanted translators.” He seemed less alien when I thought of it that way, despite his physical appearance saying completely otherwise.
“You’re not the first human I’ve spent time with.”
Hmm... The witches he spoke about, no doubt. Put a pin in that for later.
Before I could overthink it, I blurted, “Wanna be my fake date to George and Perry’s wedding?”
Kye chuckled, toasty and rumbly, but when I didn’t say ‘just kidding!’ he peered long and hard at me, laughter fading. “First, I’m Krampus, now I’m your fake date? This is too much, witch.”
I scowled, his comment about spanking me with his branches resurfacing against my will. I shook it off. “I keep telling you, I’m not a witch. Besides, not to point out the obvious, but what else do you have going on?”
Eyes narrowed, he stared out the window, giving me the silent treatment.
Okay, so maybe that was rude, but I was kinda desperate at this point. The last thing I wanted to do was show up at George’s wedding stag.
I’d already tried getting out of it, but family pressure was real. That and I didn’t want George thinking he’d won. That I’d stayed home to cry into my pint of mint chocolate chip while he was getting hitched to my least favorite cousin.
No fucking way.
“How about... we make a deal?”
That drew his attention. He half turned, head dipping as if he wanted to hear this.
“I’m listening, witch.”
I had this sinking feeling in my gut that I was going to regret this.
Big time.
EIGHT
KYE
This was my chance to put some plans into motion. Namely, my freedom.
It had been so long since I’d been able to do something because I wanted to. Not because a berchta allowed or requested it.
Yet as Holly fiddled with her balled up napkin, all I could focus on was how red her lips were.
Uncomfortable memories of the past resurfaced. I wouldn’t be so careless around another witch.
Never again.
That reminder forced me to pay attention to what Holly was saying and not what it would feel like to touch her freckled skin or twist her crimson curls around my fingers.
“C’mon, we can talk on the way to the meeting.” She tossed her napkin and our mugs into a hovering collection receptacle that floated by. “If I’m late, I’ll never hear the end of Perry’s whining.”
I decidedly didn’t care for this Perry.
The transport was a bit small for my larger frame. Sitting beside Holly was damned close to cuddling, which raised conflicting emotions.
Her hair smelled of fruity soap and the lingering scent of chocolate clung to her clothes, making it harder to dislike being near her.
“I wanted to ask you about the Krampus thing before that kerfuffle at The Bowl. So, sorry about that, but you’d be helping me out if you did it.”
Yes. Because I live to help witches who keep me imprisoned.
My mood took a dive, and I rubbed my tongue against the roof of my mouth to get rid of the sour taste I suddenly had.
Holly kept rambling. Was she nervous?
Strange witch.
“It’s just for a few hours. One night.” She held up a slim finger as the transport turned a corner, slowing to a stop for a crowded crosswalk of shoppers. “I’ll even pay you, if that’s what it’ll take.”
“Pay me with what? Money?” I snorted a humorless laugh. “I have no use for money. I’m a prisoner, remember?”
“Oh. Right. I guess you have a point there.”
My mood curdled further. How easily she forgot I was bound to that crystal prison was a swift reminder that she and I were on two different planes of existence.
“Well, it’s a deal I’m trying to make with you,” she moved on. “So, what’s something you want?”
Freedom. It danced through my head and I nearly said it. But there were two things she was asking of me—to play this Krampus character and be her date—so why couldn’t I request two things from her?
Besides all that, wouldn’t this be stooping to a new level in the eyes of other berchtas? Pretending to date her own prisoner?
The thought was humorous, but it seemed off-theme for a berchta. They were prideful creatures.
Holly was throwing me for loop after loop and the curious part of my nature wanted to know what game she played.
“You want two things,” I finally said, “and I want two things.”
Pink crept up her face but, to her credit, she didn’t blink. Maybe she was thinking what had drifted through my mind—regrettably—a few times.
“I suppose that’s fair...”
Fair. Ha! We hadn’t begun to reach fair.
“First and foremost, I want my freedom.”
Holly opened her mouth, like she was going to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, she slowly asked, “And the second thing?”
I didn’t think it was possible for her to appear any more nervous than before. She fiddled with the hem of her coat before picking away at nonexistent lint.
Oh.
Ohhhh.
The corner of my mouth tugged upward. “Relax, I’m not going to ask for any lewd favors. Your virginity is safe with me.”
Her mouth fell open, eyes grew wide, and her cheeks were nearly as red as her hair. “I’m not a virgin!”
I canted my head as if I were allowing her to tell her little fib. Did I really think she was a virgin? No. But she didn’t need to know. My tone indulgent, I said, “Sure you’re not.”
“I’ve had sex. Lots of sex,” she argued heatedly. “I do great sex!”
I patted her knee, feigning sympathy but thoroughly amused. She was quick to bat my hand away and scoot farther from me, which was only a couple of fingers worth since this transport was so damned small.
It only made me chuckle more.
“Wow, you suck,” she grumbled under her breath.