Page 77 of Fae Farewells

“I can’t take you guys anywhere,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Don’t blame me,” Sloane popped back. “This is his fault.”

Palmer and Novak nodded, and Stone rolled his eyes.

“Yeah. Right,” he smarted. “Ask her who killed them?”

Without missing a beat, Sloane threw a dismembered hand at the demon. He dodged it, leaning to the left as it slapped the wall behind him. The sadistic bastard grinned at her... Where she was squatting on the floor, her knees nearly in front of her face as she tried to slide a dagger through a fae woman’s skin.

“You two act like immature teenagers when you’re left alone,” I commented, trying to figure out what she was doing.

“We weren’t alone,” Stone told me.

“That doesn’t make this any better.”

He pointed at me, bouncing his finger. “Ahh, but does it make it any worse?”

“A little. Yeah.” I shook my head, closing the door behind me.

When I pulled my hand away, it was covered in blood. I stared at it curiously, then looked at my mate.

“What are you doing, Lo?” I casually asked.

“We agreed that if they didn’t stop touching what didn’t belong to them, I would turn them into throw pillows.” She forced a smile. “This outcome was avoidable…”

Palmer tucked his hands into the pockets of his khakis. “By we, she means her and York.”

“You didn’t disagree,” the druid replied.

“Well, no,” the mage admitted. “I’m not fucking stupid…”

“Stupid enough to let them in,” Novak murmured under his breath.

“I didn’t open the door, tattletale,” Palmer argued. “Stone did.”

I walked farther into the room, surveying the entire mess. “What the fuck is going on?”

“The queen sent prostitutes to the room while Barbie, York, and I were snooping around,” Briggs told me as he waved his hand over the bodies.

“Okay?” I drawled.

“Stone let them in,” Novak added.

“Uh-huh…”

Stone shrugged. “Then Novak tattled. Which was fine, because we were getting bored.”

“Not this fucking bored,” Palmer snapped. “I was trying to take a nap.”

“Oh. Don’t give me your bullshit,” the demon retorted. “You were a part of it too.”

“I still don’t like calling them prostitutes,” Novak stated. “I really liked shimmering sluts.”

York chuckled. “That’s worse than prostitute.”

“Is it?” Novak inquired, tilting his head as we watched Sloane struggle to not tear holes in their skin. “What about glimmering groupies?”

“Who are they groupies for?” the druid challenged. “Not us.”