Chapter 47
Electra
My heart breaks over sharpening beats.
I blink fast to evict the sting of indignation before Malachi can spot what seeing a woman inside Reeve’s car does to me. Especially one wearing his hat.
Or maybe it’s not his hat.
Maybe they just like to match their styles.
I center myself with breathwork, something that Mom taught me when I was sixteen and all over the place emotionally. No amount of oxygen succeeds in clearing the hot pain slicing into me.
My anger is so great that I tear my arm from Malachi’s and lunge out of the vehicle. The girl’s head swivels. I’m guessing she knows who I am from how she dives into the front seat to start the car.
Before the rims can squeal against the pavement, I toss out a force field that sends the Volvo careening forward, toward the glass facade of a drugstore.
“Elle!” Malachi yells. “There are people in there. Innocents.”
He must send a bolt of his own magic to counter mine, because the car screeches to a halt right as its bumper kisses the wooden frame of the store window.
The girl erupts from the vehicle and dashes for the store’s door.
I jam it with more magic, taking perverse enjoyment in seeing her twist the handle and bang her shoulder into it. When she realizes her effort is in vain, she tosses us a glare.
Her eyes stop me cold as I realize who Reeve ran away with.
The girl bolts sideways, taking off down the narrow sidewalk. I’m about to go after her when I see Malachi reeling her toward him, his runes lit up like the sky on the Fourth of July.
Quinn snarls and fights at first. When she realizes that her capture is inevitable, she holds still…too still, as though Malachi were pinning her arms to her side.
“Electra?” That voice…
That.
Fucking.
Deceitful.
Voice.
Sunlight cuts across Reeve’s hat-free hair and reflects off the lenses of his glasses as he observes his car’s new parking job.
I want to scrub my name off his lips with a Brillo pad. Perhaps I will once I bring him somewhere private.
Fingertips tingling with magic, I cock my head to the side and curl my lips up into a smile that would make most men cower.
But not Reeve Rafferty. If anything, the line of his shoulders seems to develop and his chest to expand.
Until I say, “Hello, Reeve.”