A ghost of a smile rounds the boy’s mouth. “Ah, my error then.” He bows slightly. “My name’s Lincoln.” He scans me from head to toe, his gaze resting on my tail. “You must be a quasi, um, ‘demon.’” His voice lowers when he says the word ‘demon.’

“I’m ‘Myla.’” My voice lowers when I say ‘Myla.’ I have a name, creep.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Lincoln rakes his hand through his mop of brown hair. “Would you…” He has the look of someone about to force himself to do something disgusting. “Would you like to dance, Myla?” He glances toward the ballroom floor, locks his gaze on Cissy and Zeke, then sneers. “It seems to be something your kind enjoys.”

Rage boils through me. “Do you mean ‘our kind’ as in my friend with the dog tail?” I hitch my thumb to the dance floor, where Cissy and Zeke are mid-cha-cha. “You remember? The one in heat?”

Lincoln folds his arms across his chest. “What I said was true.” His upper lip curls with disgust. “I can hardly bear to watch.”

“So, you find quasis repulsive.”

“What do you expect?” His mismatched eyes open wider. “You’re part demon. I’m a demon hunter. Asking you to dance was a kind gesture on behalf of–”

“Kind gesture?!” I’m so itching to kick him. “I’ve got a gesture for you.” I turn on my heel and walk away, my tail waving good-bye to him from my backside.

Marching onto the dance floor, I grab Cissy’s arm. “The lust-a-thon ends. Now.” At this point, I’m in a full-blown rage tsunami. My eyes glow bright red.

Cissy knows my wrath-mode when she sees it. “No problem, Myla.” Frowning, she gives Zeke a quick peck on the cheek. “Later, sweetie.”

As we march from the room, I hear Zeke blah-blah-blahing about getting Cissy’s phone number. She gives my hand a little squeeze.

“That was the perfect exit.” She almost skips to the front door.

I speak through gritted teeth: “Glad I could help.”

We drive away from the Ryder mansion in silence. Cissy stares at her hands in what I call her ‘guilty mode.’

As we drive home, my fingers tap the steering wheel in a nervous rhythm. I can’t stop thinking about that thrax boy. It’s mega-irritating. “I’ve a question for you, Cissy.”

Cissy turns to me, her eyes large and watery. “I totally didn’t mean to desert you at the party. You had every right to drag me off the dance floor. But Zeke and I were dancing and I lost track of time.” She puffs out her bottom lip.

“No, it’s not that.”

“Really?!” Cissy sets her hand on her rib cage. “Because I totally feel bad about it.”

“Don’t worry, honestly. I’m happy for you, girlfriend. I’ve got another question for you.”