My heartbeat is still erratic, my mouth dry and numb. I feel like a hunted animal, which is just how she likes me. All I want to do is bolt for the door, but I can’t—and she knows it.
Takes great pleasure in that fact, actually.
Janelle resumes her perch on the chair, locking me in her sights once again. Twirling her glass, she cocks her head and says softly, “You haven't missed me at all, have you?”
When I don’t respond, she lowers her eyes and shakes her head as if she’s ashamed of me. “Even after everything Charles and I did for you? I thought we raised you better than that, Baz.”
Raised me? What a fucking joke. Putting a roof over someone’s head and food in his belly when he’s got nowhere else to turn may be a kindness or it may be a trap, but either way, it’s not the same thing as raising him.
My real parents didn’t do such a bang-up job raising me either, too busy treasure-hunting across Europe to pay me much mind. The one who came the closest was my big brother Ford, but that didn’t last.
I was ten when I watched the high mages drag him out of the house and throw him into the black sedan—the car that would take him to the worst kind of magickal jail for the worst kind of magickal offenders.
I haven’t seen him since.
Guilt burns in my gut.
“I don’t remember what it feels like to miss anyone,” I tell her. Then, forcing a fake smile, “How is Mr. Kirkpatrick, anyway? Did he travel with you?”
I used to be terrified of the man, but like so many things, that was all part of Janelle's game.Charles can never find out about us, Baz,she used to say, her sour vodka-breath hot and damp on my neck.If he does, it will ruin everything. He’ll hurt you. I’m afraid he might even make you leave…
Hurting me was one thing. But making me leave? I was homeless and broke, terrified down to the fucking bone. It was my weakness, and Janelle made an Olympic sport of exploiting it.
She took the fucking gold, every time.
“Charles? Here?” Janelle waves the idea away, as if it’s the most ridiculous one ever. “He’s got much more important business to attend to.”
“More important than the—what did you call it? The top priority of your daughter’s well-being?”
“You’ve gotten bolder, Baz Redgrave.” Janelle smiles and traces her fingertip around the lip of her glass. Then, glancing up from beneath her lashes with a look that could freeze fire, “I can’t decide if I like that or not.”
Movement across the room catches my attention, and suddenly everything about this shitty situation fades into the background where it fucking belongs.
“Excuse me,” I say, barely sparing Janelle a glance as I rise from the chair and brush past her to get to the one good thing about my entire morning—Stevie in spandex.
Three
BAZ
Not gonna lie. The sight of that little red Arcana Academy T-shirt hanging off her shoulder, revealing the black strap of her sports bra, is enough to erase half my mind. And don’t even get me started on the barely-there running shorts or her toned thighs or the rest of those soft curves—curves I’ve had the distinct pleasure of licking.
But it’s her smile that really gets me.
Perfection…
“Oh my Goddess,” Stevie says, covering her face as I approach. “Don’t look at me. I’m a total hot mess right now. I just came by to get a book I left here last night.”
With a smile of my own to match, I slowly peel back her fingers, revealing her face. Her cheeks are red from her run, the morning sun lighting up her bright blue eyes. She looks… alive.
I try not to sigh in relief.
I’m staring. I know it. But I can’t help it. Every time I close my eyes or turn away from her, I see her battered body tied to that tree again, blood leaking down her limbs, her eyes glazed…
“You’re beautiful, Little Bird,” I say, shoving those memories into a box. “Always.”
Stevie rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling, and right now that counts for everything.
I lean against the wall, attempting to block her from Janelle’s view. Nosy bitch. I can practically feel her eyes on us. “Out for a run?”
