Bite Me

“That's not very nice,” he admonished, his eyes shining with humor.

It was one of the things that she liked most about Magnus. He seemed to have no issue laughing at himself. Even with his sometimes oversized ego.

“In fact,” he continued. “That's actually quite wicked of you.”

“Isn't it?” she asked, grinning.

Magnus traced a fingertip down the side of her throat, clearly not giving a damn about the party or anyone who might be watching. “You know what happens to wicked girls, don't you?” he asked, his tone almost conversational.

“I'd be very interested to know. You should probably tell me,” she said, biting her lip. She leaned in and whispered, “In fact, be very specific.”

His gaze heated, he leaned in and nipped at her earlobe. Releasing her, he murmured, “I don't want to spoil the surprise but—”

“Caroline,” a sharp voice rang out.

A chill ran up her spine as she took a small step back from Magnus. “Shit. That's my mother. Kill me now, please.”

“You invited her?”

“Not on purpose,” she promised.

Magnus murmured, “Deep breath, love. Here they come.”

“Mom, Dad. I'm surprised you came,” Caroline said, turning just as her parents reached her.

Magnus tried to back up to a more respectable distance but she held him fast. Her parents were probably freaking out already. Why not let it all hang out at this point?

“I'll admit, after the way you walked out of your grandmother's party, I was surprised by the invitation. I assumed it was an apology of sorts,” her mother said, face pinched in displeasure. “Who's your... friend?”

Ignoring the apology comment entirely, she said, “Magnus, this is my mother, Joan. My father, Tim. This is Magnus, my boyfriend.”

Magnus disentangled himself from her and extended his hand. Both of her parents eyed it for a moment until her father extended his. “Pleasure to meet you, Magnus.”

Naturally her mother snubbed it entirely.

In such a public setting, Caroline was hoping they'd feel obligated to be polite. If her mother's initial reaction was any indicator, this was going to go downhill fast. She dove on the grenade, so to speak, and engaged her mother in conversation.

“So how are you doing?” Caroline asked. “Have you had a chance to try the food, or get a drink yet?”

“We've just walked in the door. Is there something low-fat you can recommend?”

“Magnus,” she asked with a mental eye roll, turning to him. “Which of the menu is the lowest calorie, do you think? My mother wants to know.”

“The venison or the salmon, love. It's probably a toss-up. Both sauces are sweetened,” he answered before turning back to her father.

“What is that on your neck, Caroline?” her mother hissed quietly.

“A bite mark,” she answered, not bothering to lower her voice.

Her mother looked aghast. “How could you let him... that's disgusting!”

“Mom. Just because you're whispering doesn't mean he can't hear you. Please don't be rude,” she informed her through a complet

ely pasted on smile.

As if to solidify her point, Magnus reached over and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She could tell he was trying to say that it didn't matter. It did, though.

Changing tacks, her mother said, “So, that's an interesting dress.”