The sound of glass shattering in my living room has us both screaming, scrambling to our feet, gathering our weapons, and running into the foyer. The Wyvern is there, his horns fully blazing, his eyes a dark red—until he looks up and sees his girl.
“Hey!” Vanessa says cheerily. She sets down her sword carefully against the wall. “So, something kind of crazy happened, but it’s all good now. No need to panic ...eep!”
The Wyvern wastes no time in rushing over to her, gathering her up in his arms, and squeezing her until she’s barely visible in his muscular chest.
Giving them their privacy, I reenter Darius’s rather destroyed office, set my weapons down on the desk, and pull out my phone. My chest blazes with too much adrenaline, but my voice is even as I dial Darius’s number. His phone goes straight to voicemail, but I notice that I have a missed call on my own phone from an unknown number. I try it, and it’s Darius’s voice I hear.
Before he can speak, I tilt my eyes up at the hole in the ceiling and shout, “Taranis Darius Marcel Smith, did you seriously chain an Ethiopian woman up in our office?”
“Yes,” he says, unrepentant before his voice fills with strain. “Are you okay?”
“No! The Ethiopian woman . . .”
“Yes, yes, yes. Where is she now? I am assuming you released her?”
And why, exactly, does he sound annoyed by that? Oh, right. Because my boyfriend is a psychopath. “Of course I did. But the ‘where’ she is might be a little trickier to answer. Where are you?”
“Out battling villains. Why? What happened?”
“Uh, well ... I was out battling villains too.”
“What?” he damn near shrieks. My heart fills with little lumps of emotion that should be battered back by the knowledge that my man—my beast—kidnapped and tortured an innocent woman today, but isn’t. So what does that say about me?
“I’m good. All good,” I say, glancing at Vanessa and the Wyvern making out in my hallway. I shake my head, roll my eyes, and plant my butt on the desk next to my weapons. I slide the left one onto my wrist and watch lightning travel up and down the beautiful, intricate markings that decorate its every inch. “But I have to tell you, I’ve had the strangest day.”
And the worst part? I didn’t get any of it on camera.
Epilogue
Darius
Three months later
I’m spellbound. I stand in Monika’s crowded gallery surrounded by peons staring up at my favorite portrait. I find them much less irritating than usual, because today, even though they are sycophants, they areMonika’ssycophants, and here for her. These artsy-fartsy types are hardly paying me attention.
“Do you see her use of light here?” some idiot wearing a beret says to his human companion as they shuffle up close and point at my picture. “Astounding. It renders the composition so much more accessible, despite the subject matter. Would you excuse us?” she huffs, irritation lacing her tone, until she looks up. When she sees me, her eyes widen, her lips part, but instead of the usualOoh, Taranis, can I have your autograph?she rolls her eyes and tuts. “That’s the subject. I don’t know what she sees in him.” The woman is whispering to her friend, but I can still hear her clearly.
I give her a little zap as she edges past me, and she jumps and rubs her ass, glancing over her shoulder suspiciously before disappearing into the crowd.
“Mein Gott, what are you smiling like that for?” Monika’s voice pulls my attention down. She looks fucking radiant tonight, dressed all in dark-green satin that hugs every one of her delectable curves.
I slip my clawed fingers around the back of her neck and pull her toward me. “I’m so damn proud of you,” I tell her, leaning down for a kiss.
She pulls back, denying me. “That’s not yourI’m so proud of yousmile. That’s yourI’m going to hurt someone and enjoy itsmile. I thought we talked about this?” Her pink-painted lips are drawn into a tight circle—one of my favorite looks she gives me.
I love when she’s irritated with me. It usually means I get to beg her forgiveness in the only way I know how. My hand on her ass, which is where I place it now. “I didn’t hurt anybody.”
“Promise?”
“Sort of.”
She groans. “Is this what I get? Half-truths? I thought we were done with the lies after your last secret plan almost backfired and got me killed andmylast secret plan definitely backfired and almost got me killed?”
I smirk. I don’t know that I’ll ever outgrow the lies entirely. After all, Monika still hasn’t noticed the trackers I’ve placed in her phone, car, wallet, camera bag, and two of her cameras.
I lift her feet from the floor and hug her against my chest. I’m in a gray suit with a dark-green shirt and green silk pocket square to match. Despite the clash with my blue coloring, I don’t want there to be any mistaking who I’m here with tonight.
I kiss her gently on the mouth, then kiss each of her cheeks. “How much?” I whisper in her ear.
