catching the ‘leaner’ part of that comment, are we?” he drawled. Morningstar turned his attention back to her and eyed her up and down, his dark eyes glittering with blatant appreciation. “I didn’t say leaner was better.”
She couldn’t decide which irritated her more—that he was ogling her or that she liked it. Caraway flushed under his perusal and decided it was definitely that she liked it. A cardinal sin, if she’d ever heard one. He was a right bastard, as Coriander liked to say. Through and through. As good as he looked, there was nothing but shit underneath.
“I don’t give an eye of newt what you think is better, Morningstar.”
“Really?” His gaze raked over her again, a leisurely burn that would have her squirming later to the rapid stroke of her own fingers. “That’s too bad.”
Was he flirting with her? He’d succeeded in raising Hell, because she was in it. He must want something from her and she was determined to figure out what it was before this all got way out of hand. “And why is that?”
“I’ve decided I like you, Wormwood.” He paused to look at her again. “Yes, I like you very much.”
“Now you’re just being mean.” Caraway scowled.
He laughed and damn if the sound didn’t settle deep in her belly and make her want . Anything with a womb would tear down cities with her bare hands just to hear that laugh again and know it was for her alone.
“Caraway,” he said, his tongue lingering over the syllables as if he were actually tasting them. The way he said her name was like a caress and it slipped inside her, touching dark places that burnt.
No! No, bad Caraway! She mentally slapped herself. He was the Devil. Or he would be when his father abdicated.
Whatever. He was bad . By Hecate, she liked it better when he was insulting her.
“Don’t you have puppies to kick?”
He laughed again.
Bastard.
“No, that was on my to-do list yesterday. Today, it’s tormenting dark-eyed witches in delectably tight T-shirts.”
As if her day couldn’t get any worse, Brody and Clarabelle had wandered over. Or more like Brody had seen her talking to Morningstar and had to come to assure his ego she hadn’t moved on yet. He didn’t want her, but he didn’t want anyone else to have her, either. Typical troll behaviour. That’s why they were ugly beasts in all the stories—an allegory for their shitty personalities. She wasn’t even sure now why she’d dated him. She didn’t like him as a person, not after she’d got to know him.
“Cara, sleeping with the enemy?” Brody said in a disapproving tone. Clarabelle was plastered to his side like a barnacle. An ugly, glittery, condescending growth.
“It’s not your business, Brody.” Coriander rushed to her defence.
“Oh, I see. It’s a ploy to make me jealous.” He shook his blond head.
“Brody, you can’t even spell ploy, so don’t try to use it in a sentence,” Caraway replied in a saucy tone.
“Cara.” He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.
“You have to accept that it’s over. It was good while it lasted, but let it go.” Brody made an earnest face.
For a moment, Caraway couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Brody wasn’t just here to make sure she hadn’t moved on, he was twisting the knife. Why he wanted to humiliate her, Caraway didn’t know, but he’d thrown the gauntlet.
She jerked away from him and ploughed backwards into Morningstar. The heat of embarrassment burnt like it was melting her face, but Alexander set his hands on her hips to steady her and the burn of humiliation flamed to something else she didn’t want to think about. Later, she would claim the Devil made her do it, but for now it seemed to be the only way out of this situation that would give her a one-up on Brody. Morningstar claimed to like her—let him put his money where his sinful mouth was.
Caraway didn’t doubt for a moment he’d play along with her little scheme, even if he hadn’t been
She couldn’t decide which irritated her more—that he was ogling her or that she liked it. Caraway flushed under his perusal and decided it was definitely that she liked it. A cardinal sin, if she’d ever heard one. He was a right bastard, as Coriander liked to say. Through and through. As good as he looked, there was nothing but shit underneath.
“I don’t give an eye of newt what you think is better, Morningstar.”
“Really?” His gaze raked over her again, a leisurely burn that would have her squirming later to the rapid stroke of her own fingers. “That’s too bad.”
Was he flirting with her? He’d succeeded in raising Hell, because she was in it. He must want something from her and she was determined to figure out what it was before this all got way out of hand. “And why is that?”
“I’ve decided I like you, Wormwood.” He paused to look at her again. “Yes, I like you very much.”
“Now you’re just being mean.” Caraway scowled.
He laughed and damn if the sound didn’t settle deep in her belly and make her want . Anything with a womb would tear down cities with her bare hands just to hear that laugh again and know it was for her alone.
“Caraway,” he said, his tongue lingering over the syllables as if he were actually tasting them. The way he said her name was like a caress and it slipped inside her, touching dark places that burnt.
No! No, bad Caraway! She mentally slapped herself. He was the Devil. Or he would be when his father abdicated.
Whatever. He was bad . By Hecate, she liked it better when he was insulting her.
“Don’t you have puppies to kick?”
He laughed again.
Bastard.
“No, that was on my to-do list yesterday. Today, it’s tormenting dark-eyed witches in delectably tight T-shirts.”
As if her day couldn’t get any worse, Brody and Clarabelle had wandered over. Or more like Brody had seen her talking to Morningstar and had to come to assure his ego she hadn’t moved on yet. He didn’t want her, but he didn’t want anyone else to have her, either. Typical troll behaviour. That’s why they were ugly beasts in all the stories—an allegory for their shitty personalities. She wasn’t even sure now why she’d dated him. She didn’t like him as a person, not after she’d got to know him.
“Cara, sleeping with the enemy?” Brody said in a disapproving tone. Clarabelle was plastered to his side like a barnacle. An ugly, glittery, condescending growth.
“It’s not your business, Brody.” Coriander rushed to her defence.
“Oh, I see. It’s a ploy to make me jealous.” He shook his blond head.
“Brody, you can’t even spell ploy, so don’t try to use it in a sentence,” Caraway replied in a saucy tone.
“Cara.” He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.
“You have to accept that it’s over. It was good while it lasted, but let it go.” Brody made an earnest face.
For a moment, Caraway couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Brody wasn’t just here to make sure she hadn’t moved on, he was twisting the knife. Why he wanted to humiliate her, Caraway didn’t know, but he’d thrown the gauntlet.
She jerked away from him and ploughed backwards into Morningstar. The heat of embarrassment burnt like it was melting her face, but Alexander set his hands on her hips to steady her and the burn of humiliation flamed to something else she didn’t want to think about. Later, she would claim the Devil made her do it, but for now it seemed to be the only way out of this situation that would give her a one-up on Brody. Morningstar claimed to like her—let him put his money where his sinful mouth was.
Caraway didn’t doubt for a moment he’d play along with her little scheme, even if he hadn’t been
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