Page 47 of Angels Don’t Date

His brows rose and then he kissed my palm. I pulled away feeling burned, but he only leaned forward. “No? Then what can I do? I know! I’m about to wax eloquent on your magnificent voice. Are you prepared?”

I giggled again and then grabbed the table. “I’m braced. Go ahead and let me have it.”

He cocked his head and then got a distant look in his eyes. “You have the most delightful ability to adjust your style and tone to match your partner’s. That’s one of the most difficult things to teach, and you were born with it. Also, your high A is incredibly sweet. Most voices in that range tend to pitchy. If you provided those notes with more support, you could give it more strength, but the sweetness and clarity are absolutely there.”

I grabbed his arm. “Wait a minute. You’re actually talking about my voice? I thought you were joking. Also, you don’t sound like a casual singer, you sound like a very serious musician.”

He smiled and covered my hand with his. “I mean, I know about music. It’s my mother’s life, and she made sure I had a very strong foundation in case my interests went in that direction, but honestly, I’m more interested in the people than the sound. The relationships. When she left me and my dad to go back to her work, her only interest in me musical, that ensured that I wouldn’t be following in her career choices.”

“Also you like killing stuff with your sword.”

He nodded. “Absolutely. Musical death is so much more soul-rending.” He gave me a slow smile. “What kind of duet do you want to do with me? Shall we do a little bit of everything, shake it up in a bag, and see what comes out? Do you rap? Hearing the wolf rap makes me think there’s a little rap inside of everyone.”

Somehow, in spite of everything, I started feeling a little better. “Right? You could absolutely lay down a few lines.”

He grinned more broadly, flashing his dimple. “Now it’s a challenge. I will rap. And you will be horrified.”

I laughed and then took a bite of the sandwich. It was so good. While I ate, Richard took notes on a scrap piece of paper, every once in a while asking me questions, like, “What rhymes with rain?” My answer, “Mountain.” It was the worst rhyme, but that was the game, right?

He smiled at me with twinkling eyes. “Of course it does. Obviously.” He tugged on one of my curls, but not enough to hurt or to mess it up. Then he went back to sketching out lyrics while I ate my sandwich.

He played with my hair absently while I ate and drank the shake, feeling better and more solid with every bite. It was nice to be with my bestie, even if it wasn’t anything special. We just felt right. That’s what I was going to keep, our friendship, and I wouldn’t let anything get in the way of that, even if I had seen him naked.

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.