“Not exactly what I’d call dance practice, Lord Hades.” Hades sticks his hands in his pockets and shrugs indifferently. “I don’t need to practise.” “She does,” says Irma. “Rude,” I say. “True, but rude.” Irma whips out a golden notebook and a feather pen. It hangs in the air and starts to write itself. “I’ll add you to my to-do list,” she says primly. “I’d add her to my to-do list too, if she’d let me,” says Hades. His smug smile makes me want to slap him. “Ugh,” I groan, “you’re impossible!” “But irresistible?” “Resistible!” I insist, trying to ignore the hot bubbling sensation inside me.
...more
