Page 64 of Mage Massacres

“Are you, though?” His cheeks rounded slightly as he rolled his lips in.

“Don’t smile at me like that either.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he parroted back.

He tried to stop the smile from spreading across his face, but the closer I got to him, the more wicked his expression became. He reached out, snatching me into his arms. His heart thundered loudly, and I finally let myself relax.

He was alive. He wasn’t going anywhere. He couldn’t die.

That last thought released the darkness that had cinched itself around my heart. Out of all my mates, he’d been the most likely not to make a full recovery. That had changed the moment we sealed our bond, though.

Even if death followed in my wake, it wouldn’t be my mage’s final demise.

“Stop thinking about it,” he chastised. “I’m trying to be sweet, and it’s not exactly my thing, but if you keep thinking about it—”

“Why?”

He huffed. “Why do you insist on arguing?”

I placed my hand on his cheek, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Why are you trying to be sweet, Palmer? I’d much rather you be cunning, devious… challenging.”

When he didn’t say anything, I pulled away but didn’t get far. Raging winds pushed me right back into his arms, my back against his chest. He scoffed, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Did I forget to mention you can’t leave here without an escort? I brought you in, and I’m the only one that can get you out.”

The winds swirled, causing the flowers to dance wildly around us. The vortex—the mini-tornado—closed in, pinning us to each other. He tugged my left wrist, twisting my arm between our bodies before spinning me around to face him. The knuckle of his index finger tipped my chin up, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Your tornado tantrum is tearing up all those beautiful wildflowers.”

He chuckled, dropping the winds immediately. “Nothing changes here. Everything remains as it should. I’ve tried to destroy it, consciously and subconsciously, but it’s not in my cards to live without it.”

His lips met mine, harsh and commanding, just as the meaning behind his words fully connected.

13

Briggs

Thursday, June 11th

Afternoon

As soon as Sloane and Palmer were back, we headed into Belfast. I could feel lingering tension around Sloane, but she and the mage weren’t at each other’s throats anymore. That felt like a win. I wasn’t sure what they had talked about, though I hoped he told her more than he’d told me.

Not that he told any of us all the things that happened in his past.

We’d never held it against him.

We all had shit we’d rather not talk about.

I’d been pretty quiet for the last few days, brooding over all the inconsistencies and issues that were happening. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but I felt like everything was about to come to a head. I wasn’t dumb enough to ask how things could get worse... I just knew we were close to that rock bottom feeling.

The storm was nearly at its peak. The eye would follow. Then it was all uphill from there. Right?

I hoped.

We’d visited Palmer’s family and Belfast enough times to develop a favorite spot to eat, and I was starving. I needed food. All the food. I was bordering on being a hangry asshole. I’d bet I could give Barbie a run for her money in the murderous department if I didn’t eat soon.

Traveling through the Void was seriously starting to test my patience. I wanted to drive. I missed my truck. I needed to run.