Page 94 of Mage Massacres

She quirked a brow, silently calling me out on my bullshit.

“Okay. I would be upset, but it’s different. You can get off with me. On me? Doesn’t matter. The point is you don’t need to do it yourself, and you definitely don’t need to look at a picture when I’m more than willing to participate. It’s insulting that you would rather play with yourself than play with me, especially when all you have to do is summon me. I’m always down. No. Up. I’m always up. Well, not always, but—”

“Novak?” she interrupted my ranting, her eyebrow still arched.

“What?”

“Fo-cus,” she demanded, clapping her hands with each syllable.

I huffed, dropping into the winged back chair to search through the desk drawers. “Fine, but I’m not feeling any less insulted.”

“Sure,” she replied, her sarcasm thick enough to rival the mage. “Tell me all about how you detest masturbation, but do try to keep your hands busy in some other way.”

Her words said one thing, but the thoughts she was showing me were disturbingly erotic. My hands were busy, though she was imagining me gripping the base of a lamp, sliding my fingers over the ridges of a wooden bedpost, stroking the leg of a table.

“No, Trouble. No,” I chastised, shaking my head to rid myself of the images. “We do not sexualize furniture.”

Palmer stopped on the threshold of the doorway. “What the fuck did I just walk in on?”

“Novak was jerking off the desk leg,” she lied with ease, though she did it with a devious grin.

The mage bit his bottom lip, no doubt trying to keep his smart-ass comment to himself. “That’s strange, even for you.”

“For her or me? I was only doing it because she was thinking about it.”

Sloane covered her mouth, clearing her throat as I processed what I’d said.

“I did not jerk any furniture off in real life,” I amended. “I jerked it off in her head.”

“Oh?” Palmer inquired, smirking at me.

I pointed at Trouble. “If I end up with some new fetish because of this, I’m blaming you.”

“I don’t know why,” she commented, her eyes glimmering with wicked intent as she smiled sweetly. “I was only thinking about your hands.”

“Yeah, while I was jer—Fuck. I can’t stop saying it.”

“Are you frustrated?” she purred.

“No. But all I can think about is laying my dick on the desk and asking you to jerk it off.”

She and Palmer grinned in unison as I patted at the air.

“Whoa. Problem solved. I don’t like how that sounded. It was less violent before it came—You know what? I’m going to stop talking now.”

The mage tipped his head at me, and Trouble winked. Godsdammit. I would never be able to look at a desk leg again.

“Did you call me in here for this?” Palmer questioned, hooking his thumb in my direction.

“No. Novak suggested sending this scrapbook to Millie. But I don’t know anything about tracking spells. Before I dropped it in her lap, I wanted to make sure it would work as a connection to Annette.”

I shivered. “If it won’t, then I’m going to burn it.”

Palmer flipped through the pages, his eyes widening comically before he hummed. The second pass through he did, he studied the pictures with a clinical detachment.

“I think it might be helpful. She put time into acquiring those pictures and making the book. That’s more than we’ve had.” He gnawed at his lower lip. “Although, the dildo could be more of an asset.”

I clicked my tongue at the mage. “If you send that to Mills, she will beat the life out of you. But since you can’t die now, she’ll end up getting bored and becoming more creative than usual.”