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I’m tired—beyond tired—of being the odd one out.
The shifter who couldn’t shift.
The single girl in a group of couples.
The pitiful potion maker in a pack of magical powerhouses.
I’m tired of the smirks. The pitying looks are even worse. Worst of all is the danger. How many times have I been kidnapped now? How many times have I been a pawn at the mercy of violent men and women?
I just want a little peace and quiet to lick my wounds in private.
To play around with my potions and nurture my plants.
To just be.
What don’t I want?
An annoying talking ferret.
Assassination attempts.
News that I might not be who I’ve always thought I was.
And a hot fae bodyguard who doesn’t want me to touch him—and who is drunk too much of the time to be reliable.
Yeah, my life is shit.
And it’s only getting worse.
