Page 29
“Plus-one.” Her smile sharpens. “Of course. You really do find a way to push yourself everywhere. Very persistent of you.” She looks me over. “After the event, staff will collect leftover food. You know. In case you need something.”
Bitch…
Then a hand touches my back.
“Are you coming?” Nero asks.
I don’t know what he’s doing and, judging from Alexa’s face, neither does she. She looks him over quickly, recalculating.
“Antonero,” she says, voice turning silkier. “Maybe you’d like to join us for a drink.”
“Later.” He doesn’t add anything. His hand presses harder against my back, guiding me away from her and toward the terrace.
“I didn’t need saving,” I snark.
“I know.” He opens the door, and cool night air rushes over us. “But you have to admit, it’s nicer here.”
Annoyingly, he’s right. The terrace is quiet compared to the ballroom. The city glitters in the distance, dark towers and busy streets stretching beneath the night. I inhale deeply, letting the cold air clear the smoke and magic from my lungs.
Nero takes off his jacket and throws it over the balustrade. Then he unbuttons the top of his shirt, exposing the tattoo climbing his throat, and starts rolling up his sleeves. The veins in his forearms catch my attention against my will. He looks good. Too good. I try to remember he’s a ruthless animal. It does not help. I turn away and look toward the city.
“You don’t seem to like each other,” he says.
“Me and Alexa? We went to school together. We have a history.”
“Halston?”
I glance at him. “How do you know?”
“Every rich witch went there.”
Nero says it with a bite in his voice that he doesn’t manage to hide.
Halston is an expensive school for city witches, more about networking and family alliances than actual education. My blood magic was scarce anyway, so it’s not like I was a top student.
“Not your crowd?” I ask.
“Back then, none of them would look at me. Too poor.” He leans against the balustrade. “Now every witch wants to get into business or bed with a wolf. Well. Almost every.”
His eyes move to me.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“So how does a rich girl from Halston end up selling stardust at parties?”
“Bad decisions.”
“You don’t look like a girl who makes bad decisions.”
I laugh. “Why?”
“You’re always composed. Calculated.”
“Maybe not all the bad decisions were mine.”
A questioning grimace appears on his face.
“Most girls with your taste would just find a rich guy. Why run around town selling dust?”
