My Ice Prince - стр. 48

– Go to hell! – followed by her angered reply.

«And not so defenseless as she seems at first sight» I thought with a smile. – We'll meet again, Misha. Even though it's pointless.»

Now I was finally certain that she was very much like her sister in appearance, but at the same time she was different: real, a little naive, not yet able to find the right words and arguments: even her swear words were not offensive at all. The girl must have watched a lot of movies and taken all the swear words from them.

When Misha opened the door, I immediately noticed that she held her left shoulder a little higher than her right: almost imperceptibly, just a couple of millimeters.

But what was a mortal doing in her house? Who was she? A guest? Or worse, a neighbor? What's the whim? Misha shouldn't get close to people, much less share living quarters with them. This is nonsense, we'll have to look into it. Why, though? Well, she reminds me of Maria, well, lives with this mortal, what do I care? Let her live, study, have fun. After all, she has a lot of relatives who should take care of her. I wonder how old she is. And how does she eat: does she still drink donated blood or does she already hunt?

But, since Misha did not want to communicate with me, no, not that – since she was forbidden to do so, it means that she knew nothing about me and Maria – it was obvious: she was angry at me for small trifles, not for what I «did» to her sister.

«If this damsel does not wish to see me, why should I see her? But what if she asks for my help? Who? Her? That hussy? She'd rather eat her own head than bother to do so.

Fine, let her live the life she wants. But if I broke her bike, I'll fix it» I thought as I steered my Mustang onto Abington Road.

– What's wrong? You're just like on fire! Who was that? – Mary asked, barely had I entered the kitchen after kicking that ignorant Haraldson out.

«An ill-mannered brute! A lover of reading other people's letters and running over girls on the road! It's a good thing Maria warned me about him, otherwise, who knows, maybe I could have been fooled by this impudent man's appearance and actions, and mistaken him for a normal vampire who might even have some advice for me!» – I thought angrily.

– That was the guy who hit me and crumpled your bike! – I answered Mary. – «And my parents also forbade me to talk to him, they said 'not a word, not half a word.

«Why am I telling her such personal things?» – I thought to myself, but in my heart I wanted to talk to Mary about what a bastard Haraldson was. I wanted to sling mud at him from his gorgeous hair to the soles of his shoes.

– And he's handsome, I'd say he's very handsome, but his white skin spoils the whole impression-» Mary trailed off, because I gave her a stern look. – I made you a bath like you asked.

He was handsome, but no more handsome than my brothers-I'd always liked blondes, and his very pale skin, dark hair, and bright, almost blue eyes made him look as cold and aloof as an iceberg. He was a Viking, the perfect Nordic type. Ha! And Mary thought he was handsome, but not very handsome!

– Something I do not understand: your parents forbade you to communicate with him … And what are the reasons?