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ChapterThirty-Nine
SUNDAY
“Idon’t think we’re going to find one,” I huffed, staring down at my body, which was currently encased in a skintight sequined gown that weighed at least fifteen pounds.
“You look like a disco ball,” Moira agreed.
“A bloody disco ball,” I grunted, peering at the scratches the sequins left beneath my arms.
“This is not the one.”
“I’ve tried on all of them. What am I supposed to do? Show up naked? Say I’m Lady Godiva?”
“Maybe? You could get Kingston to let you ride him into the ballroom.”
I snorted at the mental image. “Now that would be a hell of an entrance. Callie would choke on her tongue.”
“I think Thorne would go ballistic and kill every single guy who looked at you.”
Heat crept up my cheeks as I recalled the last time Noah saw me naked in public. “Maybe. Or he’d wrap me up in his jacket and usher me off to some closet where he could fuck me senseless. You know, come to think of it, this idea really has some merit.”
“No. I’m sorry. I can’t participate in something that will end up getting Thorne locked in a cell for murder. Take that ghastly thing off. I can’t believe my mother sent it here in the first place.”
I glanced around our room at the number of discarded rainbow-colored dresses ranging from frosting-esque ballgowns straight out of a little girl’s faerie princess fantasy to sexy little numbers more appropriate for private rooms atIniquity.
“Hang on. I have an idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before.” Moira unzipped the back of the heavy, awful dress. “Shit,” she muttered.
“Shit? That’s not a good thing to hear.” I tried to glance behind me to see what she was cursing about, but could barely move.
“The zipper is stuck.”
“No.I am not going to wear this stupid torture device one more minute. Get it off me.”
She cursed again, her hand smacking into my back as she lost purchase on the little piece of metal. “Oh, fuck it.”
The gown heated against my skin as Moira did something to the fabric. Panic lanced my chest. In the tall mirror, I watched in horror as flames engulfed the entire dress, with me still wearing it.
“I’m on fire! Shit, Moira! Why am I on fire?”
“Oh, settle down. You’re fine.”
“No! I’m not fine. I’m on fucking fire, and the last time I checked, I was still fucking flammable. For a witch, you’re pretty cavalier about setting innocent people on fire.”
I began patting frantically at the flames, but they didn’t burn me. Instead, as they disappeared, the gown underneath changed into a gauzy black fabric that covered a tight-fitting off-the-shoulder bodice. Sleeves reached down my arms, stopping in a point at my wrists, held in place by a tiny thread wrapped around my middle fingers. It reminded me of Sleeping Beauty’s pink and blue ball gown... but a sexy Gothic version. The full skirt had an indecent slit, which stopped at my hip. I loved every inch of the dress. Especially the fact that the fabric underneath the black gossamer was blood red and made me think of Noah.
Moira caught me staring at my reflection in awe. She smiled at me over my shoulder, her expression teeming with smug satisfaction. “Bibbity bobbity boo, bitch.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Tell me we’re sticking with this color, though, please. I don’t look good in pink.”
She gave a mock-horrified gasp. “Darling, as if. Red is your signature color.” Her words took on an exaggerated southern drawl on the last.
Moira assessed me, her shrewd gaze zeroing in on my face. “Close your eyes. I’m not done yet.”
“Well, you already set me on fire. What’s the worst that could happen?”
She rolled her eyes, but I did as she asked. A warmth spread across my skin, tingling everywhere, but not in a bad way.
“Okay, open.”
