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“What do you mean?” He stepped onto the landing, crowding her. “You’re supposed to stay at her side.”
It didn’t matter how pretty he was, no way she was letting this tosspot bully her.
Fern hopped into the air and leaned in, her face level with his. “First, I was literally pressed against her side. Second, even I have to fucking sleep. I woke up because I felt something was wrong. Turns out, she snuck off.”
Magnus threw his hands up, eyes rolling. “Oh aye, you and your damned feelings. Let’s all do whatever Fern says because she feels like we should! Why didn’t you use those bleeding feelings to follow her, hmm?”
—Maggie—
Mangy bastard! “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed,” she said through her teeth, “what with that landmass you call a head being so fucking empty, but no one can follow her through the ether when she leaves her likeness behind. Except Araxis. Ergo, me telling you we need to find him.”
He crossed his arms. “First, fuck no. I’m not bringing him anywhere near her before she’s ready. Second, Lunara started sitting on the mountainside to watch over Brand. Did you check there?”
“No, but—”
“Third, because I feel like making more fucking points than you, she’s Nachthelliae’s Keeper. We watched her incinerate a wave of darkness and dreadbeasts big enough to cover an entire realm with our own eyes. Even if she left, she’s fine.”
“Yes, but—”
“Tell me, did you wake up and go ‘You know what! I’ve got a bit of a belly ache. I think I’ll go scream at Magnus about it!’ because you realized she might not need you as much as you think she does, and it burned your bonny fucking britches?”
—Rein it in, you radge wee shite—
She was going to kill him.
“I am aware that—”
He huffed a laugh and started to open his mouth again but Fern brought her mace up between them, pushing the spiked tip against his sternum. “I fucking dare you to interrupt me one more fucking time.”
When he only stared back, his chest heaving, she continued. “Good boy.” She fought against a smile when he growled. “As I was saying, something is wrong. She’s up to something dangerous, I know it. Someone should be with her, and Araxis is the only person who can make that happen.”
He lifted a single finger and set it against her mace handle, pushing it aside and stepping closer. There was hardly enough room for her lungs to expand without brushing up against him.
And fuck the fucking heat he put off.
It did funny things to Fern, like defuse her just enough that instead of bashing his face in, she actually accepted his disarming her and was considering seeing his side of it.
Like remind her that he was naked and stunning.
Like make her wonder whether it would be worth it to find out if his mouth was good for anything other than pissing her off when all this shit was over.
Hovering there, the air crackling between them, Fern hardly recognized herself. Which was saying something. Nothing felt right when he was around because she couldn’t figure out what was blimmin’ happening.
“Let’s get one thing very clear,” Magnus murmured, his breath tickling her cheeks. “I am not your good boy.” He searched her face, a furrow forming between his wheaten brows. “If you need help, you can ask. Nicely. If you’re worried, feel free to share. If you need to talk because the witchling is being herself and driving you up the stars-damned wall, I’d be glad to listen.
“But don’t come here screeching in the wee hours thinking to boss me around. Middle of the night visits are for emergencies and…other things.”
His voice was pitched so low that the gravel of it was nearly indistinguishable from Pet’s, raw and animalistic. She actually felt his gaze when it dipped down to peruse her body, head tilted and nostrils flared, a flush spreading across her skin like wildfire.
“Since it seems like this isn’t an emergency”—his lids were heavy when he brought his eyes back to hers—“is there another thing you needed me for, Fern?”
She was one breath from apologizing out loud. From acknowledging he had a point and rephrasing her demands into requests so he would do as she asked. From giving in and doing something particularly ill-fucking-advised.
But then he went and flashed that lazy, suggestive smirk and indignation crashed over her like a wave, blessed sense in its wake.
He almost blimmin’ had her, the arse-sniffing mutt.
Fern didn’t know where the gentle Wolflord had gone. The one she met upon waking from the Veil all those weeks ago. Whose presence had soothed the absolute nothingness inside and tempered the complete loss of self in the weeks after. Who’d brought her food and kept her company over Lunara’s sleeping form and promised she was safe. Who’d been her friend.
