Page 82 of Mage Massacres

“I didn’t,” he confessed. “I muted them so they'd shut up.”

“That’s the same thing,” she muttered, scrubbing at her cheeks in frustration.

“It’s a gray area. Like…” He wobbled his head as he thought. “Is the glass half-full or half-empty? Neither. Full and empty are superlatives, so you can’t compare them. Same thing with agreeing and arguing… Wouldn’t you say?”

Sloane rolled her eyes. “I hate that that makes sense.”

He shrugged. “Do you accept?”

“Yes and no,” she smarted, smirking back at him.

And I knew that expression all too well. She’d found a loophole to expose.

“I see what you did there.”

“Do you?” she inquired, arching a brow. “Wasn’t this supposed to stop me from doing something that I enjoy?”

He cocked his head, clearly not understanding.

“Forty-eight hours. No sex,” she repeated, waiting for him to agree.

Palmer nodded. “Aye. None.”

Her right shoulder twitched, almost a shrug but lacking the energy. “Sex implies penetration, does it not?”

She glanced at us, her bright eyes bouncing from one face to the next as we agreed in various ways. Her lips flattened as she played with her hair, but she couldn’t cover her smile.

“I’m a resourceful kind of woman, Love, and I can get myself off.”

The mage grinned, observing her keenly before finally asking, “What was the point in the bet?”

Sloane tapped her temple. “I had some ideas to leave you with, and I wanted to play.”

His groan reverberated across the quiet yard as she dropped him a mental box of suggestions. Knowing her, the contents would plague the mage’s mind until she put him out of his misery. I didn’t think Palmer realized it yet, but he had some more groveling to do before she’d let him dominate her in any way.

Sex alone was fun but fleeting to her. And while her trust in him hadn’t been completely destroyed, it was still cracked and splintered.

I could see it all too clearly.

Because I’d fractured the same glass house.

17

Sloane

Saturday, June 13th

Early Morning

Briggs stalked behind me in the hall, each step bringing him closer to my back. Adrenaline still flowed through my veins.

Fight, flight, or fuck.

The decision made me stop.

I turned on heel, snatching his arm behind his back as we stood chest to chest. His free hand tipped my head back, his fingers tangling in my hair. Warm lips met mine in a demanding kiss as frigid winds chilled my skin.

I had noticed an amusing trend with my brooding wolf.