I shuddered as I pulled into the parking lot and half-jogged toward the hotel. I pulled open the door to the lobby and ran right into another person.

“Apologies,” I muttered, then paused.

Priscilla’s giant brown eyes stared back at me turning into raging storm of irritation before she rolled them and pushed against my chest. “Just watch where you’re going next time.”

“I said I was sorry,” I snapped.

“You’re right.” She crossed her arms. “Apology accepted.”

I grinned.

“Have fun with whoring around tonight.”

“Wait.” I grabbed her arm. “Kind of harsh, don’t you think?”

She peered around me and smirked. “Kind of honest.”

I turned to see where she was looking and saw not one, not two, not even three, but around ten girls all in short skirts and skanky heels sipping wine at the hotel bar and throwing me sexy glances.

With a grin I waved.

All ten waved back.

Priscilla groaned and moved past me.

I reached out and grabbed her arm again, totally not on purpose. It was more of a reflex, or something.

“What?” She jerked back. “You need help with the harem?”

“No.” The excitement of what was going on behind me died when I looked into Priscilla’s eyes, or maybe it was just cheapened. “Question.”

“If I answer, will you go away?”

“Maybe.”

“Fine.”

“Do you like wine?”

“I’m underage, Jaymeson. Eighteen, remember?”

Hell yeah, I remembered. It was why Alec and Demetri basically threatened me within an inch of my life yesterday when they saw me stare at her for longer than three seconds.

“Please,” I snorted. “You’re eighteen, not a saint. Do. You. Like. Wine? It’s a simple question.”

Priscilla shifted uncomfortably, alternating between standing on one foot and then the other. Her heels were either starting to bother her, or she was one of those girls who had quirky nervous ticks that made a guy want to make her nervous just so he could discover every last one.

“Yes.”

“Good.” I smiled, feeling happier in that moment than I’d felt in days. “Stay here and I’ll be right back.”

Priscilla didn’t say anything.

I sighed. “Please?”

“Fine.” She huffed, looking down at her shifty feet.

I ran over to the bar, handed the bartender a fifty, grabbed two paper cups and a corkscrew, I was back all within three minutes. Giant grin in place, ready to have a good time.

“Let’s go.” I pushed open the door and let her pass.

“Where we going?”

“To the beach.” I laughed. “Where else?”

“Hmm.” She fell into step beside me, but nearly fell over. Maybe I’d only pour her half a glass. Those shoes were like her Everest. “If you’re trying to seduce me it won’t work.”

“First…” I handed her the wine and cups then made her stop so I could kneel down and grab her heels. “I wouldn’t have to try — it would happen. I’m like magic.”

“Magic?” She laughed.

“Lift.”

“Huh?”

“Your foot.” I pointed. “I’m not down here for the hell of it. The way I see it is if I keep letting you walk around like that you’re going to get a sprained ankle. Plus, we’re almost on the beach anyways, so lift.”

Priscilla raised her right foot, then her left. I slipped off the Vince Camato heels, my damn hands shaking like I was Prince Charming or some other shitty fairy tale character. Right, pretty sure I was more demon or dragon in her book.

“I can carry them,” Priscilla said.

“Nah, you carry the wine. I’ll carry the shoes. Makes me look like more of a gentleman that way.”

“Ah, so it is part of your seduction technique.”

“Carrying shoes?” I laughed. “Nope. Remember, I’m magic? Clothes basically melt off in my presence.”

“Right along with the skanks’ makeup, huh?”

“Hilarious.”

I laughed even though it kinda sucked that she was partially right. I usually didn’t even know what the chick looked like until later on when the makeup was wiped off from all the kissing and foreplay, and usually by then I was done with her. Damn.

“Over there.” I pointed to a spot closer to the ocean.

We both sat down. I dropped her shoes and pulled the corkscrew from my pocket. “So Priscilla…” I let her name dance around in my head a bit before I continued. “Where were you headed before I rescued you?”

“Trapped and coerced.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I was going home. Curfew.”

“Naughty girl. Are you breaking your curfew to be out with me then?”

“Nope.” Her smile made me feel funny. I looked away. “I’ve never been late. My parents won’t care. They trust me, and if they’re worried, they’ll text.”

“Trusting.”

“I’ve never given them a reason not to be.”

“Do you want to?” I smirked.

“Want to?”

“Give them a reason not to trust you? Because if you do, I’m all for it.”

“No thanks.”

I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like she was blushing. She cleared her throat and grabbed the cups while I popped the cork.