Page 7 of Mage Massacres

He cleared his throat. “Right. I think I’ve heard some burly bikers say it before. I just don’t know what having a hairy chest has to do with... Never mind.”

“Did you get it?” I inquired.

“No. I realized that out of all the southern sayings I’ve heard since I’ve been on Earth, I only really understand like two of them. If you had said that to me a few years ago, I would have taken it as a grave insult.”

“To your manhood?” I sassed, knowing it didn’t make much sense, but I didn’t know enough about fae in general to give a better guess.

“To my breeding,” he corrected before clarifying.

“The commoners expect perfection from the royal court. Desirability is a necessary evil there. Appear, act, speak, be perfect or endure the consequences. And everyone within the court is observant, always looking for a weak point to exploit so that they can move up in noble ranking.”

He peered at me, humor alight in icy eyes as he asked, “What better way to do that than prove that we aren’t perfect enough to sit on their crystal pedestals?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Being perfect sounds boring.”

“I don’t disagree with that.” His cheeks rounded as he fought a smile.

“You’ve not really spoken about the fae realm. You didn’t like being there.”

My fae nodded, linking his fingers with mine. “Keen observation. It’s a beautiful place to visit outside of the castle. I’d be lying if I said I was happy about going back.”

“Because of the bounty?”

“Because of the people.”

2

Sloane

Tuesday, June 9th

Morning

Vaughn and I enjoyed a few stolen moments of calming silence before we left the rooftop escape for the usually hectic kitchen.

As we stopped at the threshold, I reflected on the few details he’d mentioned about his home. I had wanted to ask more questions about the fae realm but didn’t want to push him too hard on the subject.

I was beginning to become more curious and holding my tongue wouldn’t last forever. I was in a foul mood, though. I didn’t want it to rub off on him.

The glossy surface of the black marble countertops gleamed in the morning light as the smell of coffee and sage caught my attention. With my fae at my side, I noticed that only four of my mates sat at the breakfast table. A nosy someone was missing from the scene.

Novak strode up behind us, wrapping his arms over mine and Vaughn’s shoulders. “You think I smell like sage? Isn’t that a witchy scent?”

“Why are you frowning?” Vaughn whispered to me.

I shrugged, accepting of my revelation. “I just realized—again—that none of my random thoughts are safe. Novak only hears what he wants to hear.”

“Right,” my vampire drawled. “And you think I smell like a witch. The mage will be incensed when you tell him that he smells like a campfire.”

Vaughn snorted. “Tell Stone he smells like dirt, and York that he smells like a wet dog.”

I forced myself to drown out their teasing, knowing that Novak’s words were an oversight. I knew they were joking about the mixing of scents, but Stone’s aroma was more like charcoal and faint hints of cinnamon. Not burning… Anything.

I couldn’t think about it anymore.

Not right now.

I walked away from them, into the kitchen, and straight to the fruit bowl. I grabbed a peach but quickly put it down in favor of coffee. I needed the feel-good serum in a mug. Surely the liquid gold was the key to having a better day.