Ella's Masquerade: A Midnight Fae Academy Prequel Page 4

  Ah, and what a sight that would be.

  “To the future,” I said, sliding into my car and shutting the door. May you both burn for eternity.

  Chapter Five

  Ella

  “What the hell is this?” I demanded, thrusting a document into Tray’s face.

  Not two minutes into my Wednesday morning and already I was in a mood. Courtesy of the new student jackass who had taken the table in front of mine in English again.

  Just because we had a project to work on together did not mean we needed to sit near one another. I’d address that point just as soon as he explained the paper he’d left on my chair.

  He barely looked at it, his eyebrow inching upward to his hairline. “A list of questions for our dinner Saturday.” He folded his arms, his legs doing that man sprawl he seemed to prefer. Somehow it made him appear both lazy and elegant at the same time. “If you could put yours together for me to review by tomorrow, that’d be great. I want to make sure I’m prepared.”

  I sputtered, glancing at the words on the page and then back at him. “These are your interview questions?” I started reading them out loud. “Favorite date location. Favorite flower. Favorite dessert. Favorite place to be kissed.” I shook my head. “This sounds like an online dating site, not a class assignment.”

  “Consider it a creative combination of activities.” His lips curled, a pair of dimples creasing at the ends. “I can’t wait to see your questions for me, Isabella. Feel free to request demonstrations as well.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Can you demonstrate stabbing yourself?”

  “Sure,” he replied, fisting his hand over his chest and giving it a good bump. “Does that work for you, darling?”

  “With a knife would be even better.”

  He tsked. “There are so many more-intriguing ways to use a weapon.” He pushed off his chair, his over-six-foot frame dwarfing my five-foot-five one. I fought to maintain my stance as he moved into my personal space, his palm landing on my hip. “Perhaps I’ll bring a dagger Saturday to show you.”

  I narrowed my gaze up at him. “I already told you that I prefer a weekday.”

  “Which is just too bad because Saturday is my only offer.” He slid his hand upward to my side, his touch a brand through my thin, academy-embroidered blouse. “Unless you want to fail our first assignment together?” he offered. “I would be happy to play the rebel card with you any day, darling.”

  “What do you have going on after school that makes you only available on the weekends?” I demanded.

  “Yes, I like that question. Add it to your list.” His hand moved to my lower back, pulling me forward into the warmth of his body. “But try to be creative with the other questions, Isabella. I intend for us to get to know one another. Intimately.”

  I hated the shiver that final word elicited.

  Hated even more that I liked the shiver, as well as the way it made my belly flip.

  You know better, I chastised myself. These boys only want to play.

  I mean, Tray just tried to drown me yesterday. Sort of. Well, he looked a little concerned after, for all of a second. And he gave me a head start to get away. But he clearly meant to hurt me, just like Dash and Charlie. This was simply the mean clique’s newest way to mess with me.

  “I’m not going to Homecoming with you,” I said, putting my foot down—literally—on his booted toes.

  He didn’t even flinch. No, the damn guy actually had the audacity to smile. “Then I guess we’ll be failing together.” He released me and fell back into his chair. “If you change your mind, let me know. I’ll be having a nice little nap right here.”

  Tray closed his eyes.

  And I growled.

  “You can’t make me attend a dinner and a dance just to pass this assignment.”

  His silence said otherwise.

  I glanced around to see half the class observing our discord with keen interest; even Charlie appeared amused. “Cindersoot doesn’t know how to dance, Nacht. Hell, she probably doesn’t even know how to wear a dress.”

  That elicited several snickers and caused me to roll my eyes. “I’m wearing a skirt right now, Charlie Joe.”

  “Not the same as a dress, Ella Sewer,” he returned. “But we all know it’d have to be a charity case from your sisters anyway.”

  “Stepsisters,” I corrected. “And mind your own business.” I kicked Tray’s shoe, resulting in him opening one eye at me. “Dinner at six. No dance.”

  “Nope,” he replied. “Dinner and the dance, and I want a list of questions tomorrow morning.” He went back to his nap.

  I muttered an obscenity in response just as Professor Montgomery flounced into the room, her gaze twinkling with excitement. “Good morning,” she greeted us in a singsong voice, already taking over the class and forcing me back to my seat.

  By the end of her hour-long lecture, I wanted to kill Trayton Nacht. The stubborn asshole was not going to leave me with any choice other than to accept his outlandish request. Otherwise, I’d forfeit the assignment grade, and I couldn’t afford to do that.

  I needed to maintain my grade point average to achieve my college goals of moving across the country and living far, far away from my evil stepsisters and stepmother. As all of my applications were currently under review, the last thing I needed was a failure on my record.

  My teeth ground together, my stomach twisting in knots.

  All right, I’d play his game.

  I’d agree to dinner and the dance, and I’d make his life hell the entire time. Starting with my wardrobe choice. My lips tugged upward. Yeah, I had the perfect outfit in mind. If I was lucky, he’d finish our interview at the house as a result of not wanting to be seen in public with me.

  “All right, Tray,” I said to him, standing and pulling my bag onto my shoulder. “You win.”

  “Do I?” he asked, having paused midstep when I said his name. He glanced over his shoulder. “Six o’clock?”

  “Six o’clock,” I agreed.

  “And the dance?”

  I forced a smile. “Sure, Tray. We’ll go to the dance.”

  His gaze twinkled. “You won’t regret it.”

  I nearly snorted and instead just shook my head, leaving him behind me. Because yeah, he was right. I wouldn’t regret this weekend at all. But he definitely would. I’d make sure of it.

  “Don’t forget your questions tomorrow,” he called after me.

  I flipped him off in response.

  He’d get his interview questions.

  And a hell of a lot more.

  Chapter Six

  Tray

  Isabella stood waiting for me at the front of her long, winding driveway in a pair of black ripped jeans and an oversized, ink-stained sweatshirt. Her blonde hair was tousled up into a messy bun, and her face was sans makeup.

  My lips kicked up at the sides, amusement warming my chest.

  If she thought this homeless look would turn me off, she had another think coming.

  “Hello, darling,” I said as I walked around the hood of my car. “Ready for your big night?”

  Shock briefly widened her pupils, followed by a hint of intrigue as she took in the cut of my all-black suit. Her tongue slipped out to lick her lips, the little tell flooring me almost as much as her immediate recovery—when she narrowed her blue eyes into slits. “You consider Homecoming a big night?”

  “I consider our first date a big night, yes.” I opened the passenger-side door. “In you go, Isabella.”

  “Interview tip number one,” she drawled, stepping forward in her beat-up boots. “I prefer Ella.”

  “Date tip number one”—I snagged her hip and pulled her to me so I could press my lips to her ear—“I’m calling you Isabella.” I released her in the direction of the seat and smirked as she practically fell into the car. It wasn’t my words so much as it was the baggy flare of her jeans. “Should have worn something a little more practical, beautiful.”

  She tucked her
legs into the car and glared up at me. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  “Sure.” I shut her door, then picked up the bag she’d forgotten on the driveway to toss into my trunk. She’d already buckled herself in by the time I settled in beside her, not even bothering to thank me for retrieving her discarded belongings. “Your manners are exemplary,” I told her as I started the car.

  “Why, thank you,” she replied, her tone sickly sweet. “I sharpened them just for you.”

  I snorted. “I actually believe that.” She’d been prickly toward me all week, her interview sheet summing up her feelings toward me rather nicely.

  What’s your biggest failure?

  Would you rather swim in a shark-infested pool or play in a snake pit?

  Do you admire anyone more than yourself?

  What’s your least favorite kind of music?

  Every question held a negative connotation, proving I had quite the fight on my hands here. Such a new experience from my usual. In the Midnight Fae Kingdom, all I had to do was glance at a female and she’d fall to her knees in happy oblivion.

  But not with Isabella.

  Oh, no. This girl was going to make me work for it. And I couldn’t fucking wait.

  We drove in silence to the restaurant I’d picked for our assignment. Isabella’s attire was going to draw a lot of attention, something I suspected to be her goal. She probably expected her wardrobe to turn me off. Hence her resounding silence now. Actually, she seemed a little nervous, what with the way she kept picking at her nails.

  I pulled up to the valet and fought a grin when Isabella stiffened beside me. “La Scala?” she asked, her voice a little breathy.

  “Yep.” I didn’t give her a chance to say anything else as I exited the car and tossed my keys to the valet. She still hadn’t moved when I opened her door, her seat belt firmly in place. “Ready?” I asked, holding out my hand for hers.

  She glanced up at me, her cheeks a delicious shade of pink. “I… I’m not dressed for La Scala, Tray.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “You mean that’s not your version of formal attire?”

  She didn’t smile or laugh or even glare. She just shook her head and focused on the windshield. “This was a mistake.”

  My brow furrowed. Where’s my feisty little female? I wondered, crouching before her. “Isabella,” I said softly, trying to grab her attention.

  “Sir, I need—”

  I shut the valet up with a wave of my hand. Literally. Dark magic pooled around him, knocking him into a daze of confusion that left him staring off into space. I’d deal with him in a moment.

  “Ella,” I tried again, this time using her preferred name. “It’s just dinner.”

  “Not here.” She closed her eyes. “Please not here.”

  Odd. This was supposed to be the fanciest place in town. It’d taken some magical strings for me to secure us a reservation, as half the senior class seemed to be dining here before the dance.

  Was that why she didn’t want to go inside?

  My lips twisted to the side. No. That couldn’t be it. She never let the other students intimidate her in class, so why would a restaurant be any different?

  Regardless, she clearly wasn’t comfortable, and while I didn’t mind pushing her buttons, this seemed to go beyond mere teasing and into dangerous emotional territory. “Okay,” I told her, standing up. “We’ll go somewhere else.”

  I closed her door and waved my hand to release the spell on the valet. He blinked several times in confusion, the dark web slowly disentangling itself from his mind.

  “Dinner was great,” I said, handing him a tip in exchange for my keys. “Thanks, man.”

  He sputtered something unintelligible at my back that I ignored as I resettled into the driver’s seat with a very quiet Isabella beside me.

  She remained mute, leaving me to come up with the backup plan on my own. Darlington was full of expensive restaurants, the kind you paid a fortune for only to be hungry an hour later.

  We needed something comfortable. Something low-key with decent food and an easy atmosphere.

  Benji’s, I thought, smiling. Yes, that’ll work.

  It was a local place one town over with the most amazing chicken wings. The perfect place for a casual date.

  “Where are we going?” Isabella asked when we were nearing the outskirts of Darlington.

  “To a local wing bar in Asherington,” I said, my hand settling on the shifter between us as we neared a stoplight. I risked a glance at her and noted that her cheeks had returned to their usual pale color.

  Her blue eyes drifted my way, blinking. “You’re not going to ask me why?”

  “Why what?” I hit the clutch to roll back into the right gear as the light color changed to green.

  “Why I don’t want to eat at La Scala.”

  I lifted a shoulder. “Your discomfort was all I needed to know, Isabella. If there’s more you want to say, I’m listening. But I don’t require an explanation.”

  She fell silent again, her attention on the autumn scenery outside. It wasn’t until we were a few minutes from our destination that she picked up the conversation once more.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  I didn’t know if her gratitude was in reference to switching our location or for not asking questions. Perhaps both. Regardless, I nodded and replied, “You’re welcome.” Her comfort would always come first, a decision I’d made years ago.

  I’d meant to bite her that fateful night, to sate the blood thirst my darker side required. But her essence had captivated me—part Midnight Fae, part human. A rare combination, marking her as a Halfling.

  And she had no idea.

  That would change very soon. I just needed to garner some trust first. It would help ease the acceptance of her birthright.

  Well, that was the plan, anyway.

  But something told me Isabella Cinder would never make it that easy.

  I parked in the run-down lot outside Benji’s and killed the engine. “Ready for the best chicken wings ever?” I asked.

  She frowned at me. “You say that like you’ve eaten here many times before.”

  “Because I have,” I admitted, jumping out of the car and wandering around to open her door.

  She didn’t freeze this time or stay seated, but her brows were drawn down as her feet met the concrete. “But you just moved here, right?”

  I smiled. “Did I?”

  “Uh, yeah. You just started at the academy this week.”

  After closing her door, I locked up the car. We could mess with our interview notes later.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Isabella,” I said, leading her toward the entrance. “Such as my obsession with Benji’s wings.”

  “Where did you go to school before Darlington?” she asked, following me inside. “The local high school?”

  I snorted. “No.” I paused our conversation to give Belinda a little wave, and her lips curled into a welcoming grin from behind the bar.

  She whistled, taking in my suit, and laughed. “You didn’t need to get all dressed up on my account, hon.”

  “But you know how much I enjoy impressing you, Mrs. B.”

  She scoffed at that and gestured toward the booths along the side of the bar. “Take a seat wherever you want, Tray. You know the drill.”

  “Indeed I do,” I replied, placing my palm against Isabella’s back and steering her toward my favorite spot.

  Her blue eyes drilled into mine after sliding into the seat across from me, the low lighting overhead glowing off her blonde hair. “Okay, so where did you live before if it wasn’t in Darlington?”

  “Cutting straight to the interview, are we?” I teased, sliding a menu across to her. “And you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” I lifted my gaze to hers. “But if you behave tonight, perhaps I’ll show you.”

  She scoffed. “Is that supposed to be a line to get me back to your place?” Her expression matched her
retort. “Because that’s not happening.”

  I covered my heart. “You wound me, Isabella.”

  “It’s Ella, and I highly doubt that.” She looked me over with an appraising glance. “We both know your pride is safe from the likes of me.”

  She couldn’t be more wrong, but I chose not to argue her point and focused on another instead. “How about a deal,” I proposed. “I’ll call you Ella, as you clearly prefer, if you agree to at least give me a chance tonight. You’ve made a lot of assumptions for someone who has only met me a handful of times. I want a chance to prove some of those wrong.”

  “Yeah, I typically draw conclusions about a person after they try to drown me the first time,” she replied, not missing a beat. “But sure. I’ll let you try a second time, if it means getting my name right.”

  My lips twitched. “I didn’t try to drown you, sweetheart.”

  “No?” Her eyebrows rose. “Was that your version of flirting, then?”

  “It was my version of protecting you,” I replied just as Belinda approached with two waters and a basket of peanuts. She read off the specials for Ella’s benefit more than mine—I wanted wings and Mrs. B. knew it—and then left us to make our decisions.

  But my date wasn’t looking at the menu at all, her focus fully on me.

  “You were trying to protect me by holding me underwater?” she asked, incredulous.

  “If you don’t look at the menu, I’m going to order wings for you,” I warned her. “So I hope you like chicken.”

  “I don’t care about food,” she returned, crossing her arms. “I want to know how drowning me protects me.”

  Sighing, I braced my elbows on the table and leaned toward her. “It’s a game, Ella. One I intend to control.”

  She blinked at me. “What? How? Why?”

  “Because I want to keep you safe,” I replied, gesturing for Belinda. “Give me tonight and I’ll help you understand.”

  Mrs. B. arrived before Ella could utter a word. I ordered a variety of wings for us both, as well as cheese fries, celery sticks, and two cherry Cokes. Belinda shook her head, muttering something about where I put all the calories, and left us to our conversation.