Page 129 of The Fake Divination Offense
“Take me home?” he moans into my ear, his fingers hooked in the collar of my shirt.
Home. Our home. After a night out with our friends, our family.
I lick into his mouth, eating up his whimpers, cupping his ass and pulling him against me.
This is it.
This is all I ever wanted.
And I’m going to fight like hell to keep it.
Chapter Sixteen
“Amber would be better for the lightning spell than crystal,” Thio says.
“Hm. Fair enough.” Seb scratches out a note. “Still think lightning’s overkill though. We’ve got smoke, thunder, fire—why lightning?”
I run down my list of things to include in our faux Galaxrien summoning. “A cultist mentioned Galaxrien would return in atangle of lightning. Whatever that means. If lightning’s what they want, lightning’s what they get.”
Seb peeks up at me over the dining room table. “Even hot sauce and handcuffs? That sounds more like a BDSM kink than a cultist ritual.”
“Hell, they never said the handcuffs weren’t the fuzzy kind. This ritual’s going to include every single gods-damned thing any cultist has even so much as sneezed at in the years since this belief started.”
I’m not leaving anything to chance. Seb and Thio are working up spells to give us all the flashy shit. We’ll have a simulation of a demonic person, not Bel. And it’ll take place on the spring equinox, several months from now; that seems to be the date most cultists land on.
I probably should tell Ilbryen about it. And I will—but not until it’s all locked in. I’m of anask forgiveness, not permissionmindset. This idea carries a lot of risk, but that’s part of what all this planning is going toward: making sure none of it ties back to me, and by extension, Bel. It’ll be another cultist attempt, albeit one that involvesalltheir professed beliefs, and it’ll fail spectacularly. Which will, in turn, hopefully kill their insanity.
Gods.Thisis insanity, right?
But the cultists started this crazy game. I’m just playing it. And I’llwin.
Thio continues perusing the book in front of him. “The biggest issue still remains with the simulacrum of a demonic person. The components alone for that spell are…” He whistles, eyebrows bouncing.
“Whatever you need.” I bat my hand. “Just tell me what to buy.”
Seb beats his pencil on the notepad. “It’ll be several pounds of diamonds.Pounds. In addition to a few rubies, a specific type of dust shipped in from a demonic grave, and that doesn’t even include the—”
I put my hand over his spastic pencil. “I got it, Seb. Don’t worry about the cost.”
With a sigh, he nods. “Fine. What about the—”
A tray of chicken sandwiches thuds into the center of the table. Right on all our research, books, and notepads.
“Wow,” Bel says, hands on his hips. “I sure am glad I had three strapping men to help clean the table for lunch.”
Ah.
Yeah.
That might’ve been what he sent us over here to do.
His smile is forced, but his eyes shine with a hint of amusement to cancel it out.
“Um,” I start, ever so eloquently. “We were—”
“Fueling up for the championship game in a few hours?” Bel plops a stack of plates in front of me. “Good. That’s what youshouldbe doing. Not—other things.”
His voice gets a little hard with the faintest trace of discomfort.
