Chapter Twenty-Eight

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The pause that followed his statement was so significant and so completely mortifying that he felt the immediate urge to backtrack, but it was far too late.

"You don't think I'm completely undesirable."

He had said it. It was over. He had made a slip-up, a blunder; he had, in a word, goofed.

This was the stuff of which stupid romantic comedies were made.

"I mean," he said, "in my mind, completely undesirable means that absolutely no-one would ever want you. Say..."

There.

"Say you were a foster-child and you could never hold a home down. That would be undesirable."

Maybe she would catch the hint and realize that he was revealing his dark and tragic past to her, just to distract her from the actual discussion.

"So you're saying that you might possibly want me."

Nope. Nothing going. Then again, expecting Christine to catch a hint was probably like expecting a mousetrap to catch flies — theoretically doable, but highly unlikely, unless someone physically intervened.

"Look. Christine. I'm raising my hands so you can see how serious I am. Because I want you to stop crying. Okay?"

"Sure," said Christine, her lips spreading in a shaky snicker. Her eyes were still red and her cheeks looked like they had been tenderized with steak sauce and pepper, but at least she wasn't leaking snot everywhere.

"I am not declaring my affection for you. We just met yesterday. You almost threw up on me this morning, and I still find you extremely annoying. So listen carefully, because I know exactly how these stories go when the words aren't stamped in concrete. I'm saying that there's someone who might possibly want you, but that the person has not yet arrived. I am not saying that it's me. Okay?"

Christine didn't nod, but she didn't say anything, either. He counted that as a victory of some sort.

"Now, here's how it's going to work," he said. "You need to find a way to become the Hart Princess, or make someone else become the Hart Princess, or find the one mage on this earth who knows how to reverse natural therianthropy."

"Sounds like work."

"What?"

"I said it sounds like work," she repeated, a bit louder and more testy than before. She was coming back to herself.

"Of course it's work," said Rob, rubbing his forehead and wondering why he bothered. "I'm not asking you to do it for free, either. I have something to offer you in exchange."

"I thought withdrawing was something you wanted to do in the first place."

"Oh, so you're going to help me out for free. Fantastic."

"I didn't say that!"

"Then shut that lanky jaw and listen to me. I'll do my best to protect you from anyone you don't like. That includes August and Yusuke."

She blinked at him, clearly lost. Hah! He'd stumped her! A surge of inane triumph filled his soul, then died with its usual whimper when it saw the reality of its foe.

"Why?"

Because I don't want to see you together with them.

"Because I hate August," he said, "and I think Yusuke's much smarter than he lets on beneath that polite act of his. Do you want August to come in here while you're sleeping?"

"He wouldn't dare. Besides, I have Jen."

"Jen's most powerful spell is the one that keeps her laptop shut. August is a Prince of Faerie. When I was on top of him, his neck felt like it was made of steel. You think about it."

She put her hand on her chin and scowled at him, thinking about it. She probably still didn't like him mentioning Jen so casually. But it was good to see her scowl, strangely enough. It made him feel like she was returning to the person she usually was, not this new and weird Christine who cried like her heart was breaking.

"Okay," she said. "So you protect me, and I find a way to lift your curse. As long as there's one less person trying to marry me, I'm fine with it."

"So we have an agreement," said Rob. "That works for me."

It did work. He got another chance at getting what he wanted, she got one less thing she didn't want.

But there was an odd voice in his mind that told him that he was signing himself up for something much harder than he had envisioned, something that was going to be much more difficult than he had originally thought.

He told the internal voice to shut up, and it did. Then a decidedly non-internal voice butted in from downstairs.

"Yoo-hoo! Hey C, where are you? I come bearing gifts!"

"That's my cue to go," said Rob, walking towards the door. "Don't want your best friend Jen getting any ideas."

"Hold it!" said Christine.

He turned around, just to get rid of any suggestion that he might be eager to leave.

"We have to shake," she glowered. "For the promise."

He looked down at her proffered hand, then sighed aloud.

"Okay," he said. "Fine."

He shook her hand without looking her in the eyes. It was bony and all too slight, like a bunch of anchovies bound with dental floss.

"One more thing, Rob. Why were you so angry?"

Because he was holding you, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.

But he couldn't say that.

"Because I don't like people who use spells to trick girls into loving them. Is that so hard?"

He turned and walked out before he could gauge her reaction, because he was still trying to work out his own.

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