Chapter 64

“Why are you always trying to dress me?” I groan as I take the dress from him. As he passes over the hanger, Zayd curls his inked fingers around my wrist and yanks me against him.

“Because you look like a fucking hobo half the time,” he growls, and then he bites my ear, grabs a chocolate, and pops it in his mouth. “Later, ladies. See you in the courtyard.”

Zayd slams the door behind him, and Miranda turns to me like I’ve grown tentacles.

“How are you going to choose?” she whispers, eyes wide, and I gape at her.

“There’s nothing to choose.” I grab the white flats Miranda lent me when we went into town to shop, and stand up, meeting her incredulous look with one of my own. “There’s not. I’ll never forget how shitty these guys treated me.”

“Yeah, but …” she reaches out and taps the necklace with a sort of forlorn expression that I can’t interpret. Once again, I question myself and try to decide if she’s got a thing for Tristan. But no, no, it’s got to be s