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“And I want my garden.” Faye blurted out, her mind racing with what else she would need from here. Rune’s gaze shot up before he glanced her way once more. She could almost hear his deep voice slipping through her mind.Truly? “I make potions for the people in town. You need to let me come back every month.”
“She brings candy for the beasties,” Sparrow added.
Chapter eighteen
Runeawaitedthenextdemeaning task she would demand as payment for her cooperation. Hating that he needed it, sharpening his temper. He felt no pull to Sadi, and the two were identical. This was a spell. Each pull and attraction, manufactured. He would break this spell within a week and be rid of her.
“Agreed.” Rune schooled his expression. The minx blinked at him before she lifted her chin.
She is pleased with us. Kiss her. The Ra’Voshnik urged him to fist the hair at the base of her skull and kiss her until she begged for his touch.
Be silent.
Rune stood moving toward the door. “Where is your garden?”
Faye pointed. “Other side of that wall, you’ll see it.”
They quieted as Rune stepped outside. Did they truly believe he couldn’t hear them simply because they whispered?
“I need to pack. What’s the weather like in Hell bitch?” The blonde harpy’s voice.
“You don’t have to come. I can ask him to bring me back a few hours a day.”
One of them snorted, then Faye’s sister said, “And miss the chance to see a closed realm? We’re going together.”
“Only you would want to go to Hell.” The male’s voice.
“Closed realm,aaaaandwe’ll be staying at a dark court.Thedark court. Is it fancy? Wait don’t tell me. I want to see it.”
He stood at Faye’s garden while she and her ilk conversed while packing their belongings. The corner of his mouth lifted as he carved out the earth around her small garden. He wondered if his mother tormented his father half as much as Faye did him.
Michelle had raged, destroying half of Julian’s castle when he came for her. To appease her temper, he tore a piece of Necromia out, bringing it to Hell. Replacing it with a piece of Hell. Belind had that part of her estate in Necromia sealed, not pleased with Hell’s landscape.
Carving out the minx’s garden he would soon add to his estate, Rune listened to their conversation.
“Are you sure you can leave your tavern?” Faye voiced.
The male answered. “I’ve already sent word to my managers. I can’t leave my best girls alone in Hell.”
Rune caught the sound of rustling fabric. Was that male touching her?Rip his wings from his back!The Ra’Voshnik surged forward, bleeding through his gaze.
Calm yourself. Rune focused on his task. This is part of the spell. He carved away enough earth to keep the roots intact. Rune vanished the paltry number of plants he would transplant into his mother’s gardens.
Rune glanced behind him at the field. Faye had led him through this meadow in his dreams. He expected his night breeze to be his dark queen, at his side for eternity. Bitterness washed through him. There was no queen for him. A self-inflicted pain he would suffer if he was fool enough to hope for an equal to share his life with.
We have our dark queen.The Ra’Voshnik offered him a scene. He sat at the edge of his bed. Gray lace covered her, revealing more than it hid. The minx sauntered toward him to stand between his legs. Fingertips grazing his neck teasingly before she gripped the front of his throat.
And he smiled in answer. Hiking her leg up his body and pinning her back to his dark sheets.
No!Rune viciously shoved the fantasy away. His bed was reserved for his queen. Not a peasant.
The front door opened, pulling his attention as the Ra’Voshnik prowled the edges of his mind. Faye came out with a large backpack and a suitcase. The blonde carried nothing followed by the male. They’d vanished their luggage to travel with them and left Faye to carry her things.
The stubborn creature likely refused their help.
Sparrow turned to glare at him. “Are you arranging a coach, your dark highness?”
This one had an unhealthy lack of fear. The male hid it well, but fear rolled off him in waves. Surprisingly the Ra’Voshnik wasn’t demanding to make a massacre of him, too focused on Faye. At least the peasant served in that small comfort.
