At Any Price

“We’ve been best friends since eighth grade. Back when you were still interested in guys, before that fucker screwed you up, I could always tell who you were into. It’s been six years since you dated that little prick and you’ve never so much as looked at a guy since. In our little meeting, you were flushed and breathing like you’d just run a marathon. Drake turned you on and that scares the shit out of you.”

My fist closed on the table and my T-shirt was starting to stick to my ribs. His character was running low on life. I prepared my gate spell to take me away from the area and out of harm’s way. I’d tell him I accidentally hit the wrong button instead of healing him.

“You have no idea what’s going on inside my head, so stop trying to figure it out.”

“Doll, when you asked for my help in this auction, you gave me the right to voice my opinion. My work is all over this venture. Quit squawking because you’re losing control.”

I wasted the second to the last troll with a killing enchantment. He could fight the last one by himself—with only a sliver of life left. “I am not losing control.”

“Then admit that you want Drake.”

I took a deep breath. “He’d be a conflict of interest.”

“Heal, please? And that’s not what I asked you.”

My finger hovered over the heal button, but I didn’t press it. “Are you bound and determined to humiliate me? Yes, I think he’s hot. Okay? But that was never a requirement. Now if I e-mail him and tell him he’s lost his chance, will you set things up with the New Yorker?”

There was a long silence at the end of the line. “I’ll consider it. A heal any century now would be great.”

“Drink a potion,” I snarled. Then I wussed out and shot him a small heal…just enough to let him think he might make it out before I gated out on him.

“Mia, I really think you should think long and hard about Drake.” And then he laughed his typical juvenile boy laugh. “Huh. See what I did there? I said ‘long and hard.’”

“Can you hear me dying of laughter over here?” I hit my gate spell and disappeared.

Ten seconds later, Fragged showed up next to me in ghost form. The troll had finished him off.

“Now who’s laughing, sucker?” I giggled.

“I forgot how bitchy you get when I’m right and you’re wrong. Go write your e-mail then. I’m not playing with you when you’re in one of your moods. But for the record, I think you’re making a big mistake.”

I swallowed my frustration, at last relieved that I apparently had won him over. “Yes, yes. It’s noted.”

So after I hung up, I sat down and wrote it.

Dear Mr. Drake,

I appreciate your interest in my auction and your willingness to lay down a considerable sum to see things come to pass. But since our meeting I’ve had some time to reflect on the matter and I feel that we would not be compatible in this venture. It was clear to me at our meeting that you lack the desire to put me at ease. This was never a requirement and I know you will point that out in your reply, but as the plans for this have solidified, I’ve decided that I need someone who is willing to make those extra efforts. As well, I do not think we would work well together and though it is only for a brief time, I still think it would be in my best interests to go with one of the runners-up in the bidding. I wish you well and thank you again for the opportunity to have met you.

Regards,

Mia Strong

Holding my breath, I pressed “send” and sat back, staring at the blinking cursor on a blank screen. After a few tense moments, I released it, realizing that I was a coward. Heath was right. I hadn’t been this affected by a man in—well—never. And I had no idea why that was the case, but at the very core of this cold feeling inside me was an icy kernel of fear or thrill. It dried my throat, made my palms clammy. I wiped them on my jeans and stood, unwilling to let myself dwell on it.

Then I went about my day, tidying up the apartment in between writing blog posts and making still more tea. When I got back from vacuuming—a short break because I only have one room in my studio—I saw the “new e-mail” indicator flashing for my attention.

I clicked on it and noted the return address. Not the address I had sent it to, which was a generic Google mail account. [email protected].

I opened it up and it was very short.

Hi Mia,

I’d like to talk with you again. As soon as possible.

Adam