Three Trials (The Dark Side, #2)

by Kristy Cunning

And it’s a good vagina, by the way. Not an evil one, despite the house vote.”

“My evil vagina is impressed with her powers of temptation,” I deadpan.

Since I already replaced the ripped panties with an exact replica pre-barbarian Kai, there’s no evidence of our detour.

“That’s twice you’ve called me comoara trădătoare. What does it mean?” I ask him. He holds my gaze for so long that I think he’s not going to answer. Just as he closes his eyes, I hear the words that are almost whispered. “Treacherous treasure.”

My milkshake brings all the boys to naptime…Yeah, that’s not how that song goes. The song is a lot sexier, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“Obviously that’s Plan Z. What’s Plan A through Y?” I reasonably ask, knowing he can’t possibly be suggesting that as anything other than a last resort.

Jude follows close behind me, as though he can see my outline and is using me for guidance. I pass through a tree, and I hear a loud grunt when he runs right into it. I grin as he curses me.

I smile over my shoulder at him as he pushes to his feet, glaring at me the entire time. “Burn,” I say with a saccharine sweet smile. Third time’s a charm, apparently. Kai bursts out laughing, and the vines stay dormant.

“Who’s your favorite now?” he drawls as he turns and starts backing away, a knowing grin on his face.

“Humans have more balance,” he tells me, pressing closer. “Their emotions are watered down and tempered by that balance. Every emotion we experience is too extreme. We fight feeling anything because it can consume us easily.”

Tell that to us bpd peeps.

He settles for miming the motions of wringing my neck right in front of my neck, then turns and stalks off.

I zap myself seven feet into the air—calculating an extra foot for human error in depth since I can’t see—and fall the extra two feet back to the ground, landing in a crumple as a real girl who can feel that shit. They buried me a foot short. Dicks.

“I look damn good for a dead girl no matter what form I’m in,” I say aloud, trying to lighten this terribly stuffy air.

This wasn’t a struggle to survive. This was a grieving tantrum. They grieved me?

“I’m saying she’s The Apocalypse. Her name is Apocalypse. She puts the in front of it when she wants to remind everyone she’s the only one who can truly level the world. As I said, she’s rather vain that way,” he says jovially as he reuses the one joke that got him a few snickers last time.