Page 113 of Mage Massacres

Novak bumped his shoulder into mine, casting a glance at Sloane as he gambled.

“Bad person, my ass. Bet she heals the land before she goes inside.”

I shook my head, grinning at him. That was a bet I wouldn’t take... Because we all knew there was a vast gray area between good and bad, light and dark, virtue and sin.

It didn’t matter what we called it.

There was always going to be someone who walked the line, balancing the scales between the sides.

And that someone was our mate.

23

Sloane

Sunday, June 14th

Late Evening

Vaughn’s back was a work of fucking art.

The intricate lines of his tattoo were beautiful, but the rippling muscles beneath it were the real masterpiece.

He lay on his stomach, his arms crossed as he rested his head upon them. Sections of his back flexed as I traced the fae symbols and runes, the tip of my nail tickling his skin with feather-light touches.

“Here.” He handed me his phone. “Take a picture.”

“Of me straddling you?” I held the phone up, making faces while snapping a burst of photos. “I can only see the top of your head.”

“Of my tattoo,” he said in fake exasperation, but I didn’t miss his ears rising slightly with his grin. “It will be easier to translate some of it for you if I can see it.”

I made sure to capture the entirety of his tattoo as I inquired, “Just some of it?”

“The center is similar to an Earthly family crest,” he informed me. “There’s nothing to explain.”

“Would you be disappointed if I said I wasn’t really looking at your tattoo?”

I felt his chuckle more than I heard it, and I groaned in frustration, squeezing my thighs around the tops of his hips.

“I know what you’re doing, Princess,” he murmured, lifting himself up with his right hand to slide his left between his body and the bed.

I quirked a brow. “What are you doing?”

He huffed. “Adjusting. It’s not exactly comfortable to lay on my stomach while my dick is trying to bend the wrong way.”

“Having a hard time?” I taunted, smiling as he scoffed at me. “Facing the wrong erection?”

“Those are awful puns.”

“I have another…”

“Take the picture,” he commanded, laughter in his tone.

I pretended to pout, dropping his phone on the pillow as I rolled off his back. “Fine. It’s a big distraction, anyway.”

He flipped over, scooting up to lean against the headboard. My eyes traveled the length of his torso, pausing on the bulge. His dick pressed into the fabric of his sweatpants, obstructing my view.

Vaughn snapped his fingers to gain my attention, his smirk knowing. “My eyes are up here.”