Page 11 of Sky’s Edge

“Is that wise?” Mom asked Tanyn.

Before he could answer, I began moving to the door, saying, “Enjoy your evening.”

“Catla!” Dad called sharply.

I turned to him, looked right into his eyes, and he flinched.

“Enjoy your evening,” I whispered.

With that, I resumed my trek, trying, and failing, not to allow all the things that had been crashing through my brain for the last week since I found out what Dad had done to crash into my brain.

For starters, I had to break up with Bash.

As a repeat, I liked him, and I had hopes I could put Tanyn off, but I couldn’t string Bash along while I went on a compatibility trial with another male. He was a demon too. He knew all about this. No way he’d wait for me to do that. It’d be mean and even cruel to ask him to.

So there was that.

And if I did not put Tanyn off, I’d have to quit my job.

I loved my job.

And I’d have to leave Nocturn.

I also loved this city. I was born here. I grew up here. My life was here, and it was more than just my job; it was the museums, the parks, the theaters, the shopping, the hustle and bustle, the fact there was always something to do, somewhere to go, something to see. It was my flat, which I had made perfectly my own.

And my friends.

Laura, Gayliliel and Monique.

Laura and I had been besties since we were eight. Gayle came a year later. Monique was a newer addition, but treasured.

It was hard to recall times in my life when Laura and Gayle hadn’t been a part of it.

How was I going to live without them being a ten-minute craft ride away?

Of course, we would all eventually find mates. Have babies. Life would change. It wouldn’t be drinks and shopping and brunches and clubbing forever. I was aware of that.

But I never thought life for me would change in the way I’d only see them occasionally, not only because I lived in a whole other realm, but also because I’d be covered in queenly duties, which included providing my husband with an heir.

I didn’t want to be so far away from my females.

And even if I was very, very angry at my father, I didn’t want to be so far away from Mom and Dad, either.

I didn’t want to be a queen.

I wanted to be who I was.

Then, of course, there was my own father humiliating me in front of a king. Speaking to me like I was five years old. Speaking to me like he did not know, because I told him, loudly, I had no interest in any of this, and therefore I wouldn’t rush, panting with excitement, to a meeting with him and Mom to talk about it.

All of this was a lot.

But none of it was my choice, and that made that “a lot” far too much.

So much, as I walked down the steps, I felt myself fighting tears.

Me, Catla Truelock, half demon and tough bitch (though, also half human, so that explained it) fighting tears.

I’d almost made it to the front door when I felt fingers curl around my upper arm so firmly, the grip and the resultant halting of my forward momentum had me whirling toward whoever grabbed me.