Page 63 of Fae Farewells

“That’s not really his style,” I murmured to no one.

“I told you that line wouldn’t work,” another woman said.

“The queen told us to say it.”

The purple hand disappeared, and I caught a flash of dingy pink skin before a third woman spoke.

“The queen sent us to be of service.”

“Return to sender,” I advised the demon in a harsh whisper. “Wrong address. We didn’t order shit.”

Stone looked at Palmer, then cut his amused gaze to me as he struggled to wipe the grin off his smug face. When he took a step back, opening the door wider, I knew we were fucked.

Not a fun fuck, either.

“No.” I waved my hands in front of my chest, warding off the incoming bullshit. “Hell no. This can only end in one of two ways, and I want exactly zero part in any of it.”

“What two ways would that be?” the mage inquired, chuckling when I turned my back to Stone and the stranger-danger to glare at him.

I suddenly understood why Trouble rolled her eyes all the time. And why Vaughn pinched the bridge of his nose. And why Briggs rubbed his forehead, although I was still halfway sure he just enjoyed giving us his middle finger.

“She’s going to kill them, and we’re going to be in trouble for letting them in. Or she’s going to kill them, and you two are going to be in trouble for letting them in.”

“The queen sent us,” a woman repeated from behind me, her slim, pale purple hand rubbing over my shoulder and down my chest. “She won’t kill us for being in here.”

“Kindly refrain from touching me,” I directed as I side-stepped, turning to keep them all in front of me. “Just sit there on the sofa, and keep your hands to yourselves. I’d hate for you to lose them over a misunderstanding. You seem like lovely fae. We’ll let the queen know we appreciated the offer.”

“We’ve been with vampires before.”

I smiled politely. “I’m sure you have.”

“Let us help you relax.”

“Not a fucking chance.”

“He’s high strung,” Stone said. “Give him a few minutes to remember how hungry he is.”

“If I were going to feed from any fae, it would be the one who’s a little tied up at the moment,” I informed the demon.

Palmer smirked at me, and I rolled my eyes a-fucking-gain.

“Take that however you want. Hunger is something I can handle until someone I want to feed from is back in this room. If I was starving, I’d just drain one of you. It’s not like you can—”

“You’re a blood snob,” the mage interrupted.

“I know. The only way I’m getting that blood”—I pointed to the women—“near my mouth is if I rip their throats out. And I can do that with my hands, but I’m not going to do that. It seems counterproductive to what we’re trying to accomplish. So does letting them in.”

One woman came closer to me, her dusty pink hand barely brushing my arm before I skirted out of the way. I glared at her, but she simply gave me a lascivious grin.

“No.” Fuck that noise.

No was answer enough, though these fae just didn't seem to get the memo.

This must be what women felt like when they went out, or close to similar. Groups made way more sense now, especially if their friends weren’t assholes like mine.

Stone sat on the couch, his arm tossed over the back, and I wanted to strangle the fucking demon. We were all going to be in shit because of this stunt, and he was acting like he didn’t care.

Briggs would have politely sent them packing. York probably would have slammed the door in their faces. And Vaughn would have scared them away with a haughty stare and a cruel smile.