Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
The music video portion of the werewolf duet was in the afternoon, and it was fine, if annoying the way he kept grabbing me and spinning me around, or holding me close enough I could smell the chicken liver on his breath that he must’ve had for lunch.
I was supposed to be having fun, so I channeled some vampire and dipped the werewolf, gazing into his eyes seductively before I dropped him and spun away, full of the drama.
His eyes gleamed, as he focused in on me, almost like I was his prey.
The song was like that, too many claws and fangs, and could love exist with so much bite?
I certainly wasn’t interested in answering that question.
He remembered that we were on film and started posing and flexing again, but that tinge of hunter stayed in his eyes.
During the last scene, when we were up on the castle wall, Mirabel had him kneel down so he could gaze up at me like he adored me. The moon was coming up behind me, so it would be like I was his moon. Very poetic. But after we’d sung the last note, he stood and pressed our mouths together.
I froze because what was he doing? His teeth were sharp, his mouth hard, pressure on my face that was absolutely bizarre. I’d kissed Richard, and I’d wanted it to be like this, violent and oppressive, but it hadn’t. This was…
He was yanked away from me, and there was Richard, the angel, with a flaming sword pointed at the werewolf’s throat. I was still frozen, stunned by the weirdness of that assault. Was it an assault? I couldn’t decide.
“You’ll die for that,” Richard declared, voice intractable, merciless execution at the end of his sword.
I took a breath and then pushed the point of the sword away from the werewolf.
It didn’t burn me, but Richard looked slightly betrayed.
“Don’t be silly. It was just part of the music video.
I can’t have another contestant die before I get to vote him off the show.
That is…the whole thing is about voting, and… ”
Richard narrowed his eyes at me.
Rafe huffed. “You think I’m afraid of your little sword? Angels are weak when they aren’t en masse. You’re weak. And why shouldn’t I kiss her? You did, and it wasn’t even on camera! It’s only fair.”
Richard spun around and punched the wolf. It was so fast. One second everyone was standing there, the next, Hughenot Raferty was stumbling back, blood welling from his nose. He touched his face, horror blooming along with blood.
“Now it’s going to be swollen for the cameras! You…” He attacked Richard and they both went down, rolling over the gravel roof.
Mirabel and the cameramen made sure to get good angles on the whole thing while I stood on the edge, trying to not do anything regrettable.
I didn’t want to ruin another dress. But I didn’t like watching Richard get hurt, although to be honest, it didn’t seem like he was taking this tussle very seriously.
I mean, the angel was used to concave armor and serious blood loss.
This was…Yep. Richard was grinning before he bit the werewolf’s shoulder.
And now I was jealous of the werewolf. Richard wouldn’t bite me, because I wouldn’t be stupid enough to wrestle with him, pushing against his straining muscles, close and heated, except maybe I would.
The next time I was angry at him, I wouldn’t kiss him, I’d punch him.
Or tackle him to the ground. No. Bad, bad, bad idea.
The worst idea. I’d write him a letter. Yes.
I’d write about how stupid he was. I’d make bad poetry.
The worst. That would hurt him. Or maybe I’d sing something out of tune.
Yes! Or play an instrument I truly sucked at.
Two instruments at the same time. And plotting my revenge was definitely helping distract me from the sight of Richard pinning the wolf, the lines of his body so incredibly taut.
Was it getting warm on the top of that wall? A bit. And I was staring. And the camera panned to me. I tried to smile, but was that the right reaction? Should I look worried? Panicked? Happy to be fought over by two strong competitors?
Finally, Pearly White was there, and he dragged Richard off the wolf and snapped his fangs at Hughenot Raferty when he came back up after Richard.
“Enough. We’ve got the footage for the show, and anything else will just make you look bad for the camera. You have your duet tomorrow. Look good for it!” he snapped at Richard, who smiled back at him, looking golden and gorgeous, utterly undamaged.
I took that as my signal to head for the stairs with my face feeling weird from that werewolf kiss.
I headed for the kitchen, but halfway there my wings were kind of pushing against my skin, so I abandoned that idea and went to my cottage as fast as possible.
I barely got there before they burst out.
Mitt came in a few seconds later. “Everything okay?” he asked, leaning against the wall beside the door and scanning the interior for intruders.
“The werewolf kissed me. At least he called it a kiss. I think a tooth cut my lip. Do you think I’ll catch something?”
He blinked at me. “The werewolf kissed you? Why?”
I shrugged, the motion echoed by my enormous wings. It was kind of satisfying to shrug so thoroughly. “I’m supposed to know why he does something? If you kissed me, I’d think you were giving me CPR, but him?”
He studied me for another beat. “Did you kill him?”
“Moi?” I batted my lashes at him and pressed my delicate hands to my heart.
“Of course not! We were on film! And also, I don’t just run around killing people.
” Not that I hadn’t run around killing the assassin goblins the other day.
“Richard beat him up.” I added with a twinge of satisfaction from the memory.
He’d looked so good, and the werewolf was so bad at brawling compared to the angel.
The angel was so beautiful engaged in physical warfare, golden and beaming even in the moonlight.
“Marking his territory.”
“Hm?” I asked, brought back to the shadowy werewolf.
“That’s why he kissed you. Also why he licked your hand, so you’d be scented by him. You’re lucky he didn’t urinate on you.”
I shuddered. “I would have killed him.”
He smiled, big and toothy. “Me too. Werewolves can be so uncivilized. Good night, Princess. Sweet dreams.” He gave my batwings a long look before he turned and slouched out.
I didn’t go right to bed. Instead, I tried using my wings.
It would be good to have them in case of emergencies.
And I liked how they shrugged with me. They were pleasantly validating.
And they were dark brown like chocolate or a tree trunk, not pitch black like a goth vamp.
What if I painted the pointed claw bits pink? With sparkles!
It took a lot of nail polish, but the end result was rather fabulous. I wanted to send SunRae a picture, but I wasn’t quite sure if I could get back to messaging him every day, not when he was so temptingly gorgeous. I didn’t want to weird him out.
I went to his account, the one where he was himself, and there were pictures of him feeding his Pegasus a gorgeous mini cake. Was that round thing a blueberry shaped blueberry cake? So cute!
I scrolled down his wall, stopping to stare at one where he was wearing a ripped shirt after playing some kind of angel football with his buddies. Gleaming, smiling, absolutely gorgeous.
A squeal built up inside my chest until I threw myself onto my bed and screamed into my pillow.
After I got that out of my system I ignored my phone and got ready for bed.
We were buddies. I had to tell him the life-binding was okay, because we were such good friends, and he’d probably die without me anyway.
But how could I say that to his face without getting distracted? I’d message SunRae.
I opened my phone and then quickly skipped the messages, all five hundred thousand of them instead of ogling the angel.
Your blueberry cake is to die for. Also, I guess the life-binding is okay, and you don’t have to try to undo it. But if you ever do something like that again, I’ll retaliate in some terrible way you truly hate.
I started cleaning up my messages, but had only deleted twenty when my phone dinged with another text.
Because you don’t burn your hand off when you grab my sword? I guess there are perks. Thanks for messaging me. You keep me sane.
I snorted and typed. I’m the wrong person to choose as a representative for sanity. One hundred percent would eat a pickle dipped in chocolate.
That sounds like a challenge. Weird food eating competition? You can have it in next week’s round. Way better than romantic date.
Wrong. Eating pickles dipped in chocolate is a romantic date. You clearly haven’t done much dating.
Of course not. Angels don’t date.
This was my chance to bring up an angel he could date. If only I knew one. Maybe he could tell me. I looked up the most popular angel girl on social media, found a picture and then sent it to SunRae.
What about this girl? Have you dated her?
There was a break and then he sent me a picture of a sword.
I tried to buy this sword off her once. That’s almost the same thing.
She’s actually engaged to another angel already.
They’re the most boring couple you’ve ever seen in your life.
They’d finish each other’s sentences, except that they don’t need to speak because they commune without words so perfectly.
Also neither of them do much thinking. They’re spectacularly good at following orders, though.
Like her assignment to start a social media account and push the angelic agenda.
Well that hadn’t worked. I searched for any other angels, but not a lot of romantic figures. It’s almost like they didn’t do social media unless they had a purpose in it. Angels and their purposes. It was impossible to escape. Sigh.