Page 93 of Mage Massacres

The nightstand was much the same, though it was a bit more nightmare-inducing.

Trouble had some weird toys, but they were hers, and I was more than okay experimenting with her.

The dildo in Annette’s bedside table sported the evidence of her usage. It made me cringe.

Just... Nope.

I’d rather touch the dead dick again. One thousand times over. Every day for a decade.

No. Fucking. Way.

Sloane’s low chuckle tugged me from my slight panic. I turned to her, my eyes wide as I shook my head.

“I’m not picking that up. There’s a notebook under it, but it’s not that important. I can’t do it.”

She rolled her eyes, gliding over to peer in the drawer. With the enthusiasm of someone picking up dog shit with their bare hands, she lifted the dildo by the suction cup end and dropped it on the floor.

Trouble tossed the notebook on the bed. But it wasn’t the college-ruled paper that I was expecting.

It was a creepy-as-fuck scrapbook.

Page after page, filled to the edges with nothing but pictures of the guys and me. Annette had cut out images of herself, taping them on to group and single snapshots to make it look like she was with us.

At the end of the scrapbook, there were pictures of her posing in front of the gates of the Nashville estate, followed by more images of her at the Kings’ homes. Annette had covered nearly every aspect of Sloane’s life.

The House of Vampyre, the Alpha’s Lodge, the Devil’s Academy, the guild headquarters…

“Jack’s apartment,” Trouble muttered, adding to my list. “It’s like she’s been trying to live my life, even before I knew you guys.”

“She’s a buffet of crazy. The all-you-can-eat for under eight bucks kind where you walk away with food poisoning and your identity stolen.”

Sloane squinted at me. “What do you know about buffets and food poisoning? I haven’t seen you eat a single bite of anything since I met you.”

I shrugged. “You hear a lot of weird shit working the nightlife. You should know that as well as I do.”

She grinned. “I don’t pay much attention to what’s being said when people are drinking. Have you checked the desk yet?”

“No. I haven’t looked through the wardrobe either.”

“I’ll check the wardrobe. Surely you won’t find anything as frightening as used sex toys at her desk.”

“Right,” I agreed, heading toward the corner. “Is it just me, or do you find it odd that her dildo matches her decor? That’s a bit over the top, don’t you think?”

Trouble snorted as she opened the cabinet doors. “Novak?”

“Hmm?”

“Focus.”

“I am, but I don’t want to,” I complained. “Maybe that scrapbook is what Miller needs to find Annette. Who fucking knows why it was under her—Oh. Gods.”

Sloane tipped her head back, cackling at me as I felt the blood drain from my face for a second time today.

“You don’t think…”

“I do,” she wheezed. “Why else would it be there? If you really think about it, isn’t it kind of flattering?”

“Fuck. No,” I stressed, then wobbled my head. “I mean, I wouldn’t be upset if I walked in on you getting off to a picture of me.”