Page 38 of Mage Massacres

She turned the bottle up, chugging so fast that my throat burned from watching.

“I need to lay down,” she mumbled, ending our conversation. “Where can—”

“I won’t be using my bed. You can sleep in there. Murphy can sleep on the couch if he wants.”

I stood, taking her hand in mine to pull her up, and then I snatched the bottle away. “I’ll be hanging on to this, though. I think you’re good for the day. You can have it back when you sleep off your current buzz.”

As I led her out of the kitchen, one side of her mouth tugged up, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Thanks, Novak. I hope you guys, you know... Fix your bullshit.”

“We will, Mills. Don’t worry about us.”

I passed her to Murphy as Sloane and the guys stepped out of the Void. Palmer furrowed his brow, studying his siblings until they disappeared from our sight.

The mage’s question was clipped as he asked, “Is she okay?”

“She’s got a buzz.” I wasn’t sure how else to answer him. “She’s going to sleep.”

“That was fast,” Vaughn mumbled.

I snorted. “She guzzled half a bottle of vodka.”

Sloane frowned. “What happened?”

“Murph said she got a phone call about a meeting tonight.” Briggs glanced curiously at our mate.

“Another one?” Trouble asked quietly.

“What do you mean, another one?” Palmer snarled.

“That’s what we were talking about in the hallway when you found us,” she whispered, ignoring the mage’s attitude. “I’m going with her when she meets him.”

Briggs nodded. “We mentioned sending York with you. Murphy was worried that you wouldn’t be up for fighting.”

“Miller was worried too,” I informed them. “But not about the same thing.”

The wolf glanced at Palmer. “Your brother called Bishop and Jo.”

Vaughn glared at the ceiling, and I grimaced. “I don’t think that’s a good thing with all the shit going on.”

“I told him that,” Briggs disclosed. “He’s concerned about Miller, so he did it anyway.”

Sloane rubbed at her forehead. “I need to call Jack and tell him about the portal. I’ll be right back.”

As she walked away from us, I watched her hair sway, the ends of her silver waves brushing against the middle of her back. The sight of her leaving created a heavy weight in my chest. I knew I needed to talk to her.

I couldn’t go another minute with her indifference aimed at me.

York’s admissions from a few weeks ago flowed through my mind—some I’d witnessed and some I’d heard while eavesdropping. The only difference between then and now was that I understood what he meant.

”I knew you needed to get that shit off your chest so we could have this conversation,” he’d told her. “You call it manipulation. I call it pushing you out of your comfort zone. I would rather have you yell at me than ignore me.”

And then...

The druid waggled his brows at us. “I feel loved, even if she won’t say she loves me out loud.”

I grinned, finding his confession a bit silly. “Even when she’s mad at you?”

“Especially when she’s mad at me.” He laughed. “At least she still has some sort of feelings for me.”