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He laughs and comes over, rolling me over and reaching for the front of his jacket. I grab his bare wrists, my grip crushing with panic. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Dude, I don’t even need my jacket,” he says, shoving me back and wrestling free from my grip. “Just give me the flask in the pocket.”
“Fucking monster,” I curse, patting the jacket and finding a large stainless-steel flask in the pocket. I yank it free and send it spinning across the roof. Anything to get him away from me before I’ve recovered my senses.
“You better be fucking glad that didn’t go over the edge,” he says, standing and kicking my side. “Or I’d be dangling you by your feet over the side until you passed out, and then I’d drop you on your head. Can’t get much more fucked up than it already is.”
He stomps off to get his whiskey, and I sit up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I swear I can taste stomach acid, even though I didn’t throw up. I still feel sick as fuck, and my limbs are shaking like I’m freezing my ass off, even though I’m warm inside Duke’s jacket.
“Scared of heights, huh?” Gloria asks, sitting down beside me.
“I’m not scared of them.”
“Is that why you’re approximately the color of Edward Cullen’s taint?”
I pull back and look at her. “How do you know what color his taint is?”
“How do you know who Edward Cullen is?”
“I have a girlfriend,” I remind her. “Though that detail must be in the books, because I’ve only seen the movies, and they definitely didn’t show any taint in those.”
Gloria grins. “But you know it’d be white as fuck.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he doesn’t wipe. Was there toilet paper when he was human?”
“Gross,” she squeals. “Vampires don’t even poop. It’s definitely white.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re the taint expert,” I say, thanking an impossible god when I reach for my cigarettes and feel them still secure inside the waistband of the elastic pants Dixie forced me into. Maybe they’re not so bad after all.
“Seriously, I’m sorry you had to climb up here,” Gloria says, looking genuine for once. In fact, she looks absolutely fucking stunning in her pink puffy coat, with her cheeks flushed from exertion and cold, her long blonde hair rippling in the breeze. It’s loose for once, and she’s barely wearing any makeup. She looks just like the picture I took off Maverick’s Wall of Sluts, the one I realize is still tucked into my wallet at this very moment.That’sthe shit I should worry about carrying around with me. Not a key.
“It’s fine,” I say, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands.
She chuckles. “Trust me, as the queen ofI’m fine, I can say with one hundred percent certainty that’s a phrase only spoken by people who are definitivelynotfine.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Can I have one?”
“You smoke?”
“Just give me one.” She holds out a hand.
I scoff. “Try again, Butterfly.”
She bats her lashes and pouts her pretty pink lips. “You want me to beg?”
A wave ofdéjà vousripples over my entire body, and my fingers twitch to reach out and touch her, see if she feels as familiar as she looks right now.
“No,” I say flatly, shoving my cigarettes across the roof at her. I could make her beg like the brainwashed slut she is in my darkest fantasies, but that shit is not for the real Gloria Walton. She doesn’t deserve to feel as good as I could make feel.
“Oh, but you didn’t even give me a chance to show you how good I am,” she says, fluttering her lashes.“Please, my king, my Darling master, may I have the honor of wrapping my lips around your sexy cancer stick?”
I grit my teeth and glare at her. “Shut up.”
I don’t know how, but I fucking know that I could turn her world upside down in a single night. But I also know that I’d be as thoroughly fucked by that experience as she would, and it pisses me off.
She opens her mouth like she’s going to keep pushing, but then she thinks better of it and ducks her head, pulling out a cigarette. “Sorry,” she mutters.
