Page 92 of Mage Massacres

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not hurt; you are. If I had seen it coming, I would have taken the hit for you.”

I shook my head, hating that he was injured while she was aiming her attack at me. They were only caught up in this because it was known that they were my mates. That much of Annette’s confessions had resonated immediately.

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about, Barbie.”

He wrapped his arms around my upper chest, careful of the healing hole. His loose hair tickled my cheek as his lips grazed my ear.

“It’s time to consume the rest of the Pith tokens. Don’t wait anymore.”

19

Novak

Saturday, June 13th

Mid Day

Fucking basements.

I’d grown to hate them with such vehemence that I wasn’t sure I could come up with the words to express my hatred adequately.

The whole godsdamn place stunk of rotting, moldy wood. I couldn’t even breathe through my mouth to avoid the stench because I would taste the filth in the air. It was already poorly ventilated and drafty, a combination that didn’t make an ounce of fucking sense to me.

Also, while I was on the subject of shit that didn’t make sense... Why was this place under a law office?

Actually, never mind. Conducting highly illegal activities under the nose of lawyers made the most sense to me out of everything that had gone on today.

It had been a Saturday full of what the fuck moments, and they just kept coming.

I’d wandered down the passage on the right side of the room, attempting to give myself a reprieve from the twisted words Annette had said. We now knew that wasn’t her real name now, but I didn’t know what else to call her.

There were two doors in this passage, and since I couldn’t magic the lock open, I slammed my shoulder into the one on the right. An obnoxious amount of cream, white, and pastel blue met me on the other side.

It was a fancy-ass bedroom filled with white-washed furniture and wilting flowers in elaborate vases. There was a dresser, nightstand, and desk, as well as a wardrobe-type cabinet too.

In other words... A distraction jackpot.

There was a fuck-load of drawers for me to nosy through.

I slunk across the room to the dresser, mindful of any weird feelings or symbols. Then I opened them one by one, starting at the bottom. I tossed a rainbow of clothing over my shoulder, wondering who in their right mind needed this many choices.

The answer to that was no one.

No one in their right mind wore that many different outfits.

I’d been in my mate’s closet, so I could concur with that knowledge. I snorted to myself, my wayward thoughts amusing me until I made it to the top.

When I opened the top drawer, I closed it immediately and began searching for a pen. I found a velvet-covered hanger, so that would work too.

I’d already touched this bitch’s panties once. No fucking way was I doing it a second time.

Was that childish? Maybe.

Did I care? Absolutely not.

The thought of fucking Annette made me gag, so I locked those spotty memories away. I’d have to ask Vaughn to help hide them for good, though. I never wanted to revisit that night again.

I snapped the hanger into pieces, using the straight bottom-side to flick lacy unmentionables as far away from me as possible. It was a wasted effort. There was nothing useful in the dresser.