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33
Bronywyn
Lucy’s house is impressive, I’ll give the bitch that. As I poke my head into yet another bedroom, I’m increasingly grateful Ridley brought us here and not some back-alley warehouse. We need to be sure we’re out of reach of the councils but still close enough to get in and out of town without the fae if need be.
And after what happened at my house, I’m going to start implementing at least two emergency exit routes.
Light illuminates the long hallway via sconces that hang on the walls every few feet, the light coming out of the top and bottom of their tube-like shape. The gold blends perfectly with the cream wallpaper and the golden filigree that decorates it.
The place is surprisingly comfortable, giving me insight into the woman she was before she lost her fucking mind. Or who knows, maybe she was always crazy. Her hatred of Jane spanned centuries, and this place is likely only a few decades old.
A door opens ahead, and Rainey steps into the hall, wearing clothes that were clearly not meant for her. A floral dress hangs loose on her and pools to the floor in an impressive cascade of purple and pink.
She looks up at me, horrified. “This is the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever worn.”
Stifling a laugh, I do my best to not appear as amused as I truly am. “It’s not that bad.”
She gapes at me. “Are you kidding me? I look like I should be walking into a retirement home! How the fuck am I supposed to fight wearing this? Granted, the council members may die of laughter if they see me in it.”
“We can go out for more clothes tomorrow,” I offer. While it is definitely not safe to be found vulnerable outside, there’s no reason why Ridley can’t drop us off in town where humans will be out and about. The council won’t come for us there.
“We fucking better because there’s no way in hell I’m wearing this any longer than I have to.”
It’s laughable, this badass hunter wearing a flower dress, and had Fearghas not chosen that exact moment to walk out in tiny bike shorts, I might have been able to hold it in. Instead, laughter bubbles up from my chest, and I fold over, holding both sides as they burn.
“What the bloody hell is up with her?” Fearghas asks.
“Your pasty-ass legs must have blinded her.”
Tears in my eyes, I glance up long enough to see him look down at his legs then back up to Rainey. “I may be pale,” he replies, “but at least I don’t look like I belong at high tea.”
He struts past me with a wink that sends me into further laughter.
“Yeah? Well, at least they’d invite me! You’d get turned away at the door!” By the time she looks back at me, I’ve managed to gather at least some of my dignity. Rainey studies me with an amused grin, one eyebrow raised. “Wait until you see what’s waiting for you. It’s too fucking bad she didn’t leave any of her leather here.” She turns on her heel and leaves me in the hall.
I take a deep breath, trying to get the image of Fearghas in bike shorts and Rainey in a dress out of my head. Not that either was an overly terrible sight. Rainey is beautiful and could look good in a damned trash bag. And while he’s not my type—as in he’s not a vampire with crimson eyes—Fearghas in shorts is not an unsavory sight.
As if on cue, Tarnley chooses that exact moment to blur to my side. “You okay?”
“Fine.” I straighten and wipe the tears from my eyes.
“What’s so funny?”
“Fearghas in tiny shorts.”
Tarnley shakes his head and chuckles. “That’s something I would love to see.”
“Totally worth it. But only if you see Rainey in her flower dress, too.”
“Wait a minute. Rainey is in a dress?”
His shock brings my laughter back tenfold. “And super pissed about it, too,” I manage through gasping breaths.
A few seconds later, I’m straightening again and sucking in a calm breath.
“Better?”
“Much.”
