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When he hitches me up, I wrap my legs around his hips and reach up for horns. Finding none, I settle on running my hands through his hair rather than pry my mouth from his.
He carries me into the bedroom, not making it to the bed. No, he pins me against the wall next to the door, holding me there as he licks into my mouth. My body clenches with need. He tugs at my shirt, palming my breast and tweaking the nipple. Chills prickle my overheated skin.
A moan slips from me, and it seems to provoke him into pumping against me as if he knows exactly what sweet spot he’shitting with that friction. Between being trapped by his body and the wall, the steady rhythm of his grinding into me, and the hot press of his mouth to mine, I’m shaking and panting.
So much so that I lose all balance when Theo snarls and yanks away from me.
God, talk about a complete one-eighty. Has he suddenly gone off me? I mean he couldn’t have been faking that, right?
I catch myself against him a moment before his arm wraps around my waist. “What?—”
“Someone’s summoning me,” he says on a growl, then drags me to the dressing room where I got glammed before the disastrous presentation to his dad. “Stay here. Don’t come out no matter what you here. Remember, it could all be an illusion, something designed to prey on your sympathies.”
“They can just do that? Rip you away from whatever or whoever you’re doing? In this instance, me?”
“Trust me, Vicious, I’ll make them pay for their impertinence.” He closes the door.
I’m a sweaty, desperate mess, and I’m ready to kick the ass of whoever dared to summon Theo. What a crock of demon crap. Who’s a big enough narcissist to require someone’s presence rather than text like a normal person? Probably a supernatural, but still, they have cell phones in the hell dimensions. What if it’s Theo’s mom? My libido takes a sharp nosedive, and I shove my ear to the door, straining to listen to whatever’s happening on the other side.
Theo speaks with someone who has an equally deep, grumpy voice, only the other speaker sounds rougher, more guttural. I can’t track the conversation, only the voices. The scent of saltwater fills the air as though we’ve walked onto a beach. I can almost make out the crash of waves, and then, beneath the male grumbling, a familiar feminine voice comes.
“Ava?” I whisper.
It’s impossible. My best friend can’t be here in the hell dimensions, but what if she’s on the summoning side of the connection?
I squeeze against the door, fighting to hear anything beyond.Stay here,Theo’s words echo in my head.It could be an illusion.
But that’s Ava!
Twisting the knob, I shove at the door. It’s stuck. Not stuck—locked. “Shadowvale, open this for me right now.”
The door swings open, and I run into the bedroom.
“Ava? Oh my god, is that you? Get out of my way, Theo.” I shove him aside, not relenting when he fights me. A man with tentacles for a face appears in the mirror where our reflection should be. I touch the glass surface, surprised when I can’t reach through. “How does this work? Ava, can you hear me?”
My best friend appears in the mirror, face flushed and eyes wide. “Val. Are you all right? How about Meg and Rosemarie? I’ve missed you.” Her voice goes teary, and I want to climb through the mirror.
“I’m good. Or as good as I can be withTheo.” I break his name down into scalpel-sharp syllables so he’ll know how pissed I am at him right now.
Theo interrupts, speaking to Ava instead of me. “Your mother is the sea witch. Did Seb tell you that?”
“What?” I whisper, but Ava’s face fades. The mirror only shows me and Theo.
“Get her back,” I tell him.
“I can’t,” he says.
“Then tell me how to.”
“You…” His rage-filled expression softens into something wondrous. “Actually,youcan. I’ll tell you exactly what you’d have to do. But if we succeed, I need to know if you want your friend to discover the truth about who she is.”
I force myself to remember what he said to her. “A sea witch’s daughter?”
“Thesea witch’s only daughter and heir.”
“A literal witch? I mean, I know her attorney mom can be intense, but are you talking a cackling, cauldron-hugging witch?”
“Worse.” Gone is my teasing, trying-to-tear-my-clothes-off demon. His pinched expression is serious, anxious even.
