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“You are just saying that to humour me, aren’t you?” Tegan asked him suspiciously.
“Yes.” Sloane grunted when she punched him in the side. “No need for violence,” he muttered.
“There is always a need for violence.” Sloane grinned at her answer. Tegan spoke again. “What was it like?”
“What?”
“Your first kiss?”
“Amazing,” Sloane answered immediately. “I remember it was amazing.” He snorted in the dark of the room. “But in reality? It was probably sloppy, pathetic and unpleasant.”
“Oh.” Tegan turned onto her side and stared at nothing in the dark. “It was not a…a peck?”
“A peck?” Sloane yawned. “No, a peck isn’t even a proper kiss.” He was drifting off to sleep when he heard her soft reply, heavy with disappointment.
“That’s whathesaid.”
Sloane realised he was long overdue to have a long talk with his brother.
Tegan stood staring at the dress that was laid on her bed. She raised her head to look at Martha, who stood at the opposite side of the bed, trying hard but failing terribly to hide the smile on her face.
“Why?” Tegan asked with a slight wail of despair. She heard Sloane’s snort of laughter beside her and turned her head sharply to glare at him. He quickly averted his face, but Tegan narrowed her eyes at him as she took in his shaking shoulders. She jabbed him in the side with her elbow, andshegrinned when he yelped in pain.
“You have issues,” Sloane grumbled as he rubbed his side.
“I do.” Tegan pointed at the offending dress on her bed. “Thatis one of my issues.”
“It is a beautiful dress, Tegan.” Martha pulled the dress up as she looked it over appreciatively. The gown skirt was black taffeta, the black having an almost purple sheen to it. It was sleeveless with detailed beading and sequins on the bodice, with the full-length skirt reaching the floor. A hoop underskirt had been sent with the dress, and Martha had removed the accessory before Tegan had snapped it in half. Martha had taken the length of the dress up as Tegan was refusing to look like a “cake decoration.” “She really has made the most beautiful dress,” Martha murmured as she appreciated it.
“You took out all the extra parts?” Tegan asked suspiciously.
“Yes, I cut out some of the skirt material and resewed it back onto the bodice. It will not be as weighty now, and you will be able to wear it without the underskirt.”
“Your mother sent me a hoop…thing.” Tegan glared at Sloane as if it were his fault. “What would possess her to think I wanted to wear something much better suited to fitness!”
“Martha?” Sloane pleaded as he protected his sides from his cousin’s temper.
“It is to keep the skirt full, Tegan. I told you that she was not making fun of you.” Martha placed the dress back on the bed. “Now, why don’t you let me help you get ready?”
“I’m not wearing the shoes.” Tegan picked up the shoes her aunt had sent with the dress. The heel was high, and Tegan tested it, assessing its use as a weapon.
Sloane jumped up and relieved her of the shoes with a laugh. “Wear your boots, she won’t know.”
“They were advantageous last time,” Tegan admitted. “What if this is like the last time and the Drakhyn attack and more of us die?” She crossed the room and leaned against her dresser. “I do not understand why this is happening, did they learn nothing? Do they notknowthat there are armies of Drakhyn out there?”
“Akrhyn like tradition,” Martha commented as she fussed over the bodice of the dress. “A social event like this, even a small one, restores their faith in their own normality.”
“We are at war!” Tegan exclaimed. “No one can reach my father or any of the Vampyres—whyis that not being investigated?”
“Salem has already said he is asking these questions tonight,” Sloane reminded her. “The quicker you get ready for tonight, the quicker it is over.” Sloane laughed. “Cord will have us back here before you know it.”
“I am not talking to him.” Tegan huffed in anger. Cord was refusing to take her to the Vampyre Court and had warned any other Castor that, should they take her, he would hurt them—badly.
“The two of you are practically in each other’s pockets whenever you are in the same room together,” Sloane said with a long-suffering sigh.
“I have never been in his pocket.” Tegan stared at Sloane, her head tilting to the side as it did when she was confused.
“He means you stand close to one another,” Martha supplied.
