Page 102 of Cryptic Dreams
That’s how Wraith put it before abruptly changing the subject but after getting a look inside Atticus’s brain, I’m wondering if there isn’t more to the female than what she lets everyone believe.
“Oh shit,” Aries says as he leans toward me. “Don’t look now, but yourmother-in-lawjust walked in.”
Speak of the devil…
Ignoring my cousin’s mate, I sit up a little taller and glance over my shoulder to find Drusilla staggering in with Randolph on her heels.
“Give me a little room, would you? I can practically feel you breathing down my neck,” she slurs as she scans the store. “I’ve business to attend, and it doesn’t require an escort, let alone an exam of my rectum.”
Well, obviously my mate inherited her way with words.
He’d be furious at me for saying so, but Wraith’s quick wit and sharp tongue had to come from somewhere and I think it wasmummy dearest.
I watch Drusilla for a few more seconds before turning back to my cousins to whisper, “You know, I was actually just thinking about her.”
“Why?”Orion asks, his brows raised, espresso cup suspended in front of his lips.
I roll my eyes and lean forward a bit. “Seriously? She literally just came up in conversation.”
“Yeah but you didn’t have to manifest her into existence.”
Aries chuckles as he swirls his straw in his iced coffee. “It is weird that she’s here though, right? I expect Clean Drip delivers to the nest regularly so the High Elder and his mate don’t have to bother themselves with shopping.”
“Yeah, because half the city wants them dead,” Orion mutters as we hear, “There! Zephyr, hello darling!”
Shit.
Plastering on a fake smile, I turn again to see Drusilla walking down the center aisle toward us, her evening gown tripping her every few steps, the fur stole around her shoulders slipping each time her stiletto hits the tile floor.
She dresses to impress no matter what she’s doing but instead of coming off refined and like the mate of the High Elder, she looks a little more like a prom queen who got trashed and had a one night stand before performing the walk of shame home.
It doesn’t stop everyone inside Clean Drip from bowing in respect or freezing in fear, though.
No, everyone shopping on the market side of the store has stopped moving completely, essentially shocked into place while they hold their breath. The rest of the loyal patrons who are sitting on the cafe side are all bowing their heads, averting their eyes, and doing everything in their power not to piss off the would-be queen.
Lucky for them, Drusilla is ignoring everyone but me.
Which gives me an idea.
A risky one, one that could get me in a lot of trouble with my mate, but he isn’t here to stop me and since he’s too busyquestioningthe assassins Declan found—something I only know because I wasn’t going to tell Orion anything until he told me why Wraith wanted me out of the house—my wicked prince shouldn’t even register the thought until after I’ve acted on it.
Sliding my hands under the table, I quickly tug my gloves off and place one on my thigh while discreetly tossing the other onto the floor next to us. If I learned anything from all the crap that’s happened lately, it’s that Drusilla doesn’t care for Hans or Randolph very much because of their loyalty to Atticus, even if she has slept with both of them. And that means, as soon as she’s within reach, not only will she dismiss her reluctant and unwilling escort, she’ll probably boot Orion and Aries from the table as well, and if that’s the case, I can only hope she isn’t too drunk to miss my glove.
Hoping someone like Drusilla is kind enough to pick it up for me is a long shot, but she might.
When she and Atticus dropped by two days ago tosee how I was doingafter what happened during the meeting, Drusilla made a comment to Wraith about how I was dressed, specifically the gloves I was wearing.
I’m probably not dressed the way she’ll think I should be as her son’s mate, definitely not in an evening gown and heels, but going out per my mate’s request without him meant I tried a little harder to put him at ease before doing so.
In other words, I’m covered from the neck down in a lightweight but bulky sweater, jeans, and boots because apparently every inch of my skin is enticing to everything with a pulse—his words, not mine. I even wore my hair down to cover my neck. And no, Wraith doesn’t ask or expect me to dress like this, he encourages the opposite to be honest because he’s a voyeur, but being out in town without him for the first time was giving him anxiety again—whether he admitted it or not—and I figured dressing like this might make my mate feel a little better. And I was right.
But to someone like Drusilla, I won’t be keeping up appearances the way they do, won’t be representing Wraith or the coven in a way that makes them proud, and I’m sure wearing my gloves with this outfit would strike her odd. The slight chill in the air should suffice if it comes up and taking them off now should help avoid it coming up until she hopefully notices the one on the floor.
Because if she does, if Drusilla notices and has at least one shred of decency left in her black heart, she’ll pick it up to return it and I can accidentally touch her when she gives it back.
Again, very risky. Contact with Atticus knocked me out and since his mate is nearly as old as he is, there’s a chance contact with Drusilla could have the same outcome. I’m willing to risk it if it means getting into her head as well, though.
And maybe if I focus on one thing, one specific event or thought, I can avoid blacking out and still get some info.
