Blinking, I jerked my head back. "Why the fuck not?"

"I can't kiss you because of, you know," she said, straightening and pointing an accusing finger at my face, "beard rash. Everyone would know. That's what happened to one of the girls last year. Her whole face was covered in an ugly red beard rash from kissing a bearded guy too much and for too long, and her parents pretty much put her on lockdown for the entire year."

And then Tabitha's watch alarm suddenly went off. A digital beep-beep-beep noise filled the space between us. She glanced down at her wrist, awkwardly pulling her sleeve up to check her watch. "I've got to go." She twisted around, yanked the door open, and strode off.

Wait...what the fuck?

I hurried after her, pushing through the cool room door, and chased her down as she quickly clipped through the kitchen, the copper pots hanging from the ceiling on hooks scattering light from the dimmed lights above. Tabitha moved through a door in the kitchen which led into a hallway with buttery yellow striped wallpaper.

She marched so fucking fast, practically speed-walking, I was jogging beside her to keep up. My cock was a goner for this girl. I was trying to tell it to back the fuck down, but it wasn't listening. "So..." I said, broaching the subject again. "We don't need to kiss for..."

"For?" she said, shooting me a sidelong look, one eyebrow raised. She knew exactly what I was going to ask.

"You and me..." I said, waving a finger between us as we headed toward an intersection between hallways.

She ground to a sudden halt, whirled around with a hand on her chest, threw back her head, and laughed so heartily her shoulders shuddered. She shook her head, her hair shimmying as her laughter subsided. She made some kind of snorting sound as if it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard, then a little sigh as she collected herself once more.

She smiled at me like she was humoring a cute little fool, and mirrored my gesture, waving a finger between us. "No. There isn't going to be any you and me and that."

Like a disappointed idiot, my eyebrows rose when I said, "Huh?"

Her eyebrows matched mine as if she couldn't fathom how fucking obtuse I was.

She blinked once, then twice, then popped a hand on her hip. Her upper body canted forward. "My friend's sister is pregnant," she drawled, now squinting at me, giving me attitude.

"Yeah so?" I had no idea what this had to do with us.

She straightened her posture, flipped up her hand that had been on her hip, and started ticking off her fingers. "Tomas clearly isn't going to stand by the baby. She isn't married. She isn't even in a position of being engaged to anyone. She is in so much trouble I can't even begin to imagine how her parents are going to react or what is going to happen to her. I have no idea how they'll hide the fact she's pregnant, let alone an illegitimate child." She made a sound like gah but it sounded a lot more annoyed than playful. "Seriously, you know what it's like for us. And there is no way I'm putting myself in that kind of danger." She suddenly glanced furtively over her shoulder down the empty hallway, before turning back to me to whisper-shout. "We shouldn't even be seen alone together."

She spun around and broke into a fast-paced walk that carried her toward the crossings of hallways. "Thanks for the kiss, but I have to get going."

Completely floored, I stared at her retreating figure. "Where are you going?"

"The fireworks," she tossed over her shoulder, before turning around the corner and disappearing deeper into the house.

What the...fuck...?

And then, as I heard the muffled boom of a firework let off outside, my own watch alarm went off—beep-beep-beep.

I scrubbed my hand over the scruffy beard she didn't like, the bristles abrading my palm, and figured that after the Wychthorn Princess heist, I'd track her down and convince her otherwise. At the very least, if none of that was going to happen, I wanted to carry on kissing the hells out of her. Beard...or no beard.

***

I clambered out of my bedroom window as quietly as I could, which wasn't particularly easy as, beneath my oversized black hoodie and sweatpants, I was wearing a footballer's shoulder pads, leg padding, and sneakers three sizes too big for me.

I'd watched a TV show a while back—maybe MacGyver or Hart to Hart, I couldn't remember—and the villain had changed their body shape with padding to cast off suspicion. I figured it might help me too if I was inadvertently spotted. I was the same height, but I looked boxy and much stockier, perhaps a man rather than a woman, and if I left footprints behind to trace my whereabouts, they were bigger than my own foot size.

Above the leafy canopy of the chestnut tree which grew beside our bedroom window, along with neatly clipped junipers and ivy climbing the stone walls, fireworks in great bursts of metallic colors sprayed the night sky, one after the other, bleaching the leaves and branches like lightning flashes as they exploded overhead. Rapturous cheering and clapping followed each thunderous boom.

Time was of the essence. I had a plan, a really patchy plan, and now was the time to move on it. I grabbed hold of the branch and swung myself into the tree, leaving my window slightly ajar so I could get back inside later.

Jagged stems with their bushy leaves and chestnut burrs tugged at my clothes as I awkwardly crawled along the narrow branch to the tree trunk. Climbing down, I balanced on the jutting roots and pushed off, jumping as far as I could over the raised bed littered with curled yellow leaves and onto the pebbled path. I crouched down, my heartbeat racing as I swiftly took in my surroundings in the dark, sending my senses shooting outward to double-check I was still alone. No one was about. Thank Zrenyth. Shifting to the grass, with the toe of one sneaker I carefully scattered away the dent left by my shoes in the pebbles.

Closing in around the servants' quarters was a thick line of trees and shrubs. I'd always assumed they formed a natural hedge to hide away our existence and our numerous washing lines, to keep up the majestic illusion of the chateau-esque mansion.

I tugged my hoodie down low so my upper face couldn't be seen, and swiftly ran, hunched over, to the natural fence line of gently swaying greenery. Creeping amongst their leafy camouflage, I headed toward the end of the mansion where the guest bedrooms were situated on the uppermost floor. The night was cool but I was a sweaty mess of nerves beneath my clothes as I moved along, keeping my senses sharp and alert.

Laurena's bedroom was in the faux half-tower that ended the mansion. The curtains hadn't been drawn all the way across, and the bedroom lights were out. Perfect. So far, everything was going according to plan.

Fifteen minutes ago, I'd left Mr. Whiskers behind and hightailed it to my bedroom to change into my disguise. I'd even had to change my panties. I had been so freaking turned on by Mr. Whiskers breathing and nipping at my ear, they were soaked from my orgasm.

I had a terrible plan. Terrible. It was rushed and borderline insane, but it was the best I could do in the time frame I'd been given. I was going to set up my first distraction for Laurena's bodyguard, sneak back into the mansion through the servants' shortcut to the top floor, and then sneak through the Deniauds' hallways that led to the guest bedrooms. There was only one way into Laurena's bedroom and that was through the hallway door. It would be guarded, but due to the Servants' Dance she'd have skeletal staff, and very few people should be about since everyone was keen to see the fireworks. That was what I'd prayed for.

I squatted down and rummaged around in my backpack, drawing out everything I needed for this next part—a slingshot, a smooth and pliable disk, and a small jar filled with dirt.

When I'd learned last week that Byron and Laurena would be attending the dance and staying the weekend, overwhelming relief flooded through me at being presented with a chance to steal one of the last remaining things I needed for the spell to free my aunt. I'd formulated a sketchy plan and barely managed to get the items I needed for my distractions from my friend in time. There'd been a piercing gleam to his blood-red eyes as he'd fixed them on me, rapping his talons on the nicked and worn worktable—What would you need these for, little thief?

The Purveyor of Rarities might be a friend, but he was also a shrewd businessman, and there hadn't been any mate-rates on the items I'd needed to pull this off, nor had there been any discount with the things I'd bought previously from him over the years. I was running up quite a tab—one I wasn't sure how or when I'd be able to pay back. But so far, he'd been kind enough to allow me to repay my debt in small installments whenever I had spare funds.

Leaving the slingshot down near my black sneakers, I unscrewed the lid to the jar, placing it amongst the blades of cold, damp grass. I knew I should have been concentrating on what I was up to, but I couldn't stop thinking about Mr. Whiskers. I only realized just then, that, though he knew my name, I still didn't know his. And I loved how he sounded out my name—Tabitha—gruff and desirous, moaning it into our kiss. A shiver ran down my spine at the memory. Warmth and delight bloomed in my chest at the nickname he'd given me—tabby cat—and I knew, even with what I was currently up to, that feeling wouldn't leave me for a long time.

And that kiss...

That kiss...

I could still taste it on my tongue. I'd figured if it were to be my first and only kiss, I'd try everything I'd read about—thank you very much, Jackie Collins—sucking his tongue, raking my teeth over his lips, nipping and licking as I plundered his mouth. His hair, though long and straggly, was silken, and my fingers had curved around his warm, bristly cheeks and curled around the back of his head to angle him wherever I'd desired. Mr. Whiskers' lips were a strange combination of hard and velvety soft, and his hot tongue caressing mine had sent an electric shock zinging through my entire body, my mind turning in on itself, desperate for more—it was utter, torturous bliss. The kiss had turned into a rhythm only we knew, and the intensity of his desire seeped out of him much like how the air vibrated with tension before storm winds came surging in. It was hotter, much hotter than it should have been within the cool room, and as we'd kissed I noticed the air around us did shimmer, the strands of my hair lifted slightly with an air current that came from him, right at the very moment the bloodhound within me raised its senses and growled long and low.

Other.

A storm-weaver, I was sure of it.

But was he aware of what he was?

And that's when he'd slipped and slid along the wall and fell down on his backside, blinking dazedly up at me as if he couldn't work out himself what had come over him.

It was my kiss.

MY KISS!

His beard was indeed a bit scratchy, but despite what I told him about beard rash, I would have risked it all for another kiss. Or two. Or maybe even three. But as for anything further, what he desired—sex—there was no way in Nine Hells I could do that. Not after Dolcie revealed she was pregnant, and to Tomas no less. I couldn't go that far with anyone. Not even with the magnificent Mr. Whiskers. There were contraceptive tonics available from House Simonis, but they were incredibly expensive.

And besides that very good reason not to...I just couldn't. I could taste the faintest trace of despair hidden beneath his kiss. I didn't know if someone had hurt him, or if it was guilt or a blend of the two, but I knew he sought distraction from the pain. A distraction he was desperate for. He wanted to sink into my body and disappear from it all, and, most importantly, disappear from himself. That was blindingly obvious to me—why he hid beneath the scruffy beard and hair. He didn't like looking at himself. Why? What had he done?

Though I could have spent all evening thinking about the mystery of Mr. Whiskers, I cast my thoughts aside and concentrated on the task at hand. I tipped the dirt out of the jar into the grass and found the wriggling glowing worm amongst the soft earth. It wasn't a glowworm but Spryte larvae. The larvae lived its life underground, comforted by darkness and earth, never seeking the surface until it had gone through its lifecycle and transformed into a Spryte, a small beetle-ish otherworldly critter that lived near brackish, foul-smelling ponds, feeding off toads, small fish, and the Kobluud—tiny winged creatures with a venomous bite—or anything dead and decaying. I cupped the larvae in my hands and held it aloft, letting pure moonlight bathe its gelatinous body. As soon as the larvae came into contact with light of any kind, it triggered the catalyst and became an exploder of sorts.

The larvae began twisting around in my palm, swelling, and convulsing, and the whitish-glowing body turned more of a sickly purple color. I quickly stuck it into the small, smooth disk, pressing it as gently as I could into the malleable grayish substance. As soon as the disk struck the stone wall it would turn gel-like and keep the larvae stuck there.

My palms were sweaty and dirty and I took a moment to rub them on the soft cotton of my sweatpants. I placed the disk into the pocket of my slingshot, rose, and adjusted my stance. I hunted in the forest every morning, and I was a pretty good shot these days, but I couldn't afford to miss. My foolish plan hinged on this first distraction. It was imperative that I hit below the window just right. Narrowing my gaze, I pulled back the pocket and the elastic, holding it taut and aiming for the window of the hallway which led to Laurena's bedroom.

I concentrated on my breath—nice, long, steady. Slowed down my heartbeat. Made sure my sightline was true...

And let it fly—

The disk whizzed through the air, arcing, beginning to drop—

All the air tightened in my chest—

For one horrifying moment, I thought I'd missed—

The disk struck the wall, splattered into an almost translucent color, and it stuck and stayed. It had ended up a little below where I needed it, but close enough to do the trick.

I blew out a pent-up breath, my shoulders sagging beneath the football padding.

Thank gods.

I now had ten minutes to get to Laurena's bedroom before the larvae exploded.