Bloodspell (The Cruentus Curse, #1)(36)
"No, but I was hoping for a freebie."
The bar erupted in cheers, and took up the chant of "Freebie!" with uproarious glee. Victoria put her hands on her hips, playing along shamelessly, putting into play all of the feminine wiles she had been born with, but had never been a fan of using.
Until then.
"It looks like ... you want ..." People leaned forward in anticipation. She peeked through her lashes toward the end of the bar, registering the expression of contempt on Christian's face as he glared at Gabriel.
Gabriel raised his eyebrows in cool challenge, and Victoria didn't hesitate, an instinctive response born out of wanting to make Christian react just a little bit, to make him pay for the hurt she'd suffered at his hands.
"I'm just not quite sure whether you want it ..." She paused for dramatic effect. "Shaken or stirred." Then she leaned forward and planted a light kiss on Gabriel's lips.
She didn't hear the snarl, she felt it, but before she could react, the crowd erupted, clapping Gabriel on the back and laughing noisily. Gabriel looked at her and winked, ordered a Coke, and then headed back over to his friends who were laughing and cheering like idiots.
Victoria waited a couple minutes as a wave of embarrassment overcame her, and felt a stab of disappointment as she saw the empty seat. She felt strangely drained and stupid. She'd wanted to teach Christian a lesson, to show him that his kiss and his thoughts had meant little to her, but it had only backfired. She felt worse than ever.
CHRISTIAN STOOD OUTSIDE the bar, his clenched fists drawing blood in his palms. He wanted to destroy something, anything to offset the fury that consumed him. Having skipped rehearsals, the need to see her had been tormenting, its ache relentless, and he'd come to the bar because nothing else could assuage it. He had tortured himself watching her flirt with Gabriel, watching the long line of her neck bend toward him, watching her long fingers on the cusp of her hips as she leaned back provocatively, watching her lips press onto his in agonizing slow motion, and worst of all, her doing those things knowing that he had been watching.
Losing control was a risk that he simply could not afford. He couldn't fathom how she made him so uncontrollable, so violent with just a look or a word. His usual defenses were like paper before her, not just because she was an accomplished witch, but because she was her. If he had stayed one more second, he wouldn't have been able to control his actions, and he would have torn that boy to pieces, along with everyone else in that bar.
And the clincher, her words—you are not meant for me. She'd taken them straight from his head, straight from the laws that bound him. How could she possibly understand what they meant? All she'd seen were the words themselves and believed them to be his. Explaining that law to a human would mean breaking another law.
He leaned his head against the cool stone of the wall, suddenly weary. The way she'd looked at him when she'd given him the drink had stunned him. She'd looked at him as if she recognized something, and it had made him feel very uncomfortable. He couldn't remember the last time something had made him uneasy, but he was slowly getting used to the unpredictable emotions that Victoria, more often than not, was able to arouse within him.
As he stood in the cold alleyway, all he could think about was the feel of her lips on his and her imperious voice telling him to get out of her head. Christian raked his hands through his hair. It had been a long time since he'd thought about self-preservation, but this was like nothing he had ever experienced—this feeling was like acid, eating away at his very essence. He'd never felt such terror or joy in equal abundance.
He closed his eyes, barely able to admit the truth to himself.
She was already in his blood.
VICTORIA SPENT THE next two weeks buried in midterms and trying to figure out how she could have possibly made such a mess of things. She hadn't seen Christian since the disaster in the bar. He'd either stopped rehearsing or he was careful to be at the music hall whenever she wasn't there. She'd found herself playing the Tchaikovsky piece more than once after rehearsal, hoping despite herself that he'd show up to partner her. But he never did.
Harland could have been on the other side of the state for all she saw of him. Victoria was certain it was deliberate. She didn't blame him one bit. She wanted to apologize for her appalling behavior but she didn't know what she would say if she did see him. As the days turned into weeks, eventually she stopped looking for him.
After a particularly punishing midterm following a predawn study session, she'd caught up with Angie and Charla at the cafeteria, where she had immediately zoned out, eating a salad and letting Charla's chatter resonate in the background. She was exhausted. On top of everything, they'd had their first dusting of snow, and it had grown unexpectedly cold in the space of a few days, so all in all, not really a perfect day.
Suddenly, Charla jumped up and Victoria's eyes snapped open.
"Oh, no! Gotta run, catch you girls later. Don't forget the ski trip, okay, Tori?"
Ski trip? Victoria blinked seeing a bleary vision of Charla moving away.
Charla was always running late for something, but rather than being annoying, it was part of what made her Charla. Angie and Victoria shared a look and rolled their eyes at the same time. As they both came back to reality, the moment of camaraderie dissolved and they stared at each other in uncomfortable silence.