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rages in his eyes, hot and so vivid that it burns me. “Yeah, I know something about villains.”

My heart twists in my chest for some reason. “His name is Romeo.”

“Romeo.”

“Yeah. In the song.”

“And you must be Juliet then.”

I nod. “I’m actually Juliet.” Then, “My name. Calliope Juliet Thorne.”

“Calliope Juliet Thorne,” he repeats in his rich deep voice.

Also smooth.

And it feels as if instead of plucking at the edges of my wing, he’s swirling the ends of my nerves with his long fingers. And he’s doing it somewhere in the small of my back so that my spine bows for him even more.

He appreciates my efforts too.

He runs his eyes over my stretched-out body once more.

“And you’re Reed Roman Jackson.”

“You know my name, huh?”

“It’s not a secret. Your full name. Girls chant it pretty often. Like a prayer.”

He smirks. “Do they?”

“Yes,” I answer, slightly irked. “They also call you Romeo.”

His eyes narrow. “What?”

I nod. “Because everyone knows that Roman is just another version of Romeo.”

“Yeah, bullshit.”

It’s my turn to smirk at his irritation. “It’s okay. They do it with love. But you should be careful.”

“Of what?”

“Of coming anywhere near me.” I raise my eyebrows. “I’m Juliet, remember? Our names are tragic. Shakespearean. We’re bad luck together. So maybe you shouldn’t lock me up in a closet and should stay away from me instead.”

“Or what?”

I eye his bruise then. “Or you get beaten up by my brothers.”

“I told you I can handle myself.”

“You know –”

“Besides what does Shakespeare know anyway?”

"What, Shakespeare knows everything.”

“Does he?”

“Yes.”

He cocks his head to the side as he says, “Well then, how about we do something about that then?”

“Do something about what?”

“Our names.”

“What?”

Instead of giving me an explanation, Reed moves his eyes away from my face and focuses on my wings. My white fur wings that are suddenly growing too heavy and too light all at the same time.

“How about I call you by my name and you call me by yours?” he asks huskily.

“Your name.”

“Fairy,” he murmurs, his eyes coming back to my face and burning me alive yet again. “I get to call you Fairy.”

I swallow.

Fairy.

He wants to call me Fairy.

I don’t… I don’t know what to say.

So I just repeat his words. “You want to call me Fairy.”

Instead of answering me though, he roves his wolf eyes over my face once more before stepping back and taking his touch away.

“See you around, Fae.”

With that he begins to leave.

As if he didn’t just obliterate my breaths, my balance with that one word.

Fae.

A second later though, he stops and fishes something out of his pocket. Keeping his eyes on me, at my heaving, shuddering body, he puts it on the shelf by his side.

“Almost forgot about it,” he says. “It’s for you.”

It’s hard to drag my eyes away from his penetrating ones but I want to know what he brought me. It’s an envelope, purple and pretty, and looking out of place in this dark closet.

“What is it?” I ask, glancing back at him.

“An invitation.”

“To what?”

“A party.”

“You’re inviting me to a party?”

“No.” He explains, “My sister is. It’s Pest’s birthday this weekend. She wanted me to give it to you. I’m just the messenger.”

Finally he leaves, and this time he doesn’t stop or turn back.

Tempest.

His sister.

The girl I met at the game last week and who dragged me to his party.

I’ve been thinking about her, wondering if I’d get to see her again. I really liked her.

And now as her brother is unlocking the door and leaving, I’m thinking about the fact that he calls her Pest. And how he came here to do her bidding, to give me the invitation, which I’m pretty sure she must’ve bugged him about until he relented.

And God I have to go to him right now.

Snatching the envelope and clutching it in my hands, I run after him.

He’s almost at the edge of the stage and I call out, “Roman.”

He stops then.

Slowly, he turns around and looks at me.

I know that I should let him go. I know that I shouldn’t have stopped him.

I know that doing this is foolish. And maybe I am that.

Foolish.

But I don’t care.

Staring into his piercing eyes, I hug the envelope to my chest and say, “If you call me Fae, then I get to call you Roman.”

Tempest and I are awesome friends now.

Best friends even.

It didn’t take us long to become that. In fact, I think we became good friends as soon as we met at the game. But our friendship was sealed at her birthday party.

Which I made sure to attend and which wasn’t an easy thing to do.

I knew it wouldn’t be.

I knew my brothers would freak out. Already me going to that one party has created so much drama and now I wanted to go to another one.

But I was going and I wasn’t going to lie about it.

So I told them and, well, it didn’t go well.

Definitely not with Ledger, who kept grumbling about it for that whole week, pacing and stomping and cursing.

We had four family meetings about it. Four.

So family meetings are a tradition in our house.

Conrad established it long ago, so whenever there’s something that might be important– from where to go on vacation over the summer or Ledger getting a new truck to switching from whole wheat pasta to spinach pasta – we all get a say.

I think it’s his way of keeping all of us in the loop and functioning as a family.

So that whole week, leading up to the party, there were long discussions over dinner where Ledger would just curse and say no to everything. Stellan, who would join us over the phone, would try to reason with him and tell him that I’m not a child and at least I didn’t lie like the last time.

While Shep, again over the phone, would make stupid jokes all the while siding with Ledger.

Until Conrad put a stop to it all and declared that Ledger will go with me.

“It’s not that I don’t

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