Page 65 of Hybrid Heroics

“Now you have,” Flint grumbled.

I turned to look at him and froze. “Holy shit. You’re green.”

“That’s what you noticed first?” Vaughn questioned, sounding offended. “Not his teeth?”

“I noticed those, too. But he’s not eating me,” I responded with a grin.

“Fuck, Novak.” York groaned, scrubbing at his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Look. If I can make jokes about my sister fucking Briggs’ brother and Sloane’s brother and his boyfriend…” I pointed out, gagging a little. “Then you can totally listen to me make jokes about your cousin fucking your friend.”

Briggs wrinkled his nose. “I hadn’t thought about it at all until just now. Thanks for that.”

I bowed. “You’re most welcome.”

“Ready?” Stone asked.

Not really, but I wouldn’t dream of leaving them hanging. Especially with Sloane’s safety on the line.

The last day and a half had shown me that this was my family. I would fight for them as much as I would for my mate. We had seen the best and the worst of each other. And still, we stood together through it all.

“No killing?” I asked, needing clarification as the scent of a mob filled the air.

“No killing,” the druid affirmed.

“Hardest fight ever,” Briggs grouched before shifting to prowl in front of us.

We all nodded our agreement as the first cursed person—a lady who looked like Poison Ivy—came into view. Six followed the woman, then twenty more… and then all I could glimpse was a sea of bodies moving toward us.

“Maybe it’ll be more fun than we thought,” Stone mentioned before smoothly morphing into his pitch black demonic form.

“It would seem the cursed came armed,” Vaughn announced.

Palmer cursed under his breath. “Is that a fucking sword?”

“Use weapons then,” Sterling encouraged. “But pick something they can heal from once they’ve had the curse rinsed from their mind.”

“And when will we be doing that?” Thatcher inquired, glancing at the warlock.

“I have no idea,” Murphy whispered. “I’m not sure I can be that precise while trying to fend off attackers.”

“We’ll worry about it in a minute,” Vaughn told them as frost crawled up his arms.

I gasped, clutching my chest. “What? Make a plan on the fly? Who are you, and what have you done with our fae?”

Vaughn rolled his eyes, wiping the grin from his lips before it had fully formed.

Poison Ivy shouted something incoherent.

And the cursed mob ran right at us.

Briggs howled, though I thought it was meant as a signal to the hellhounds, not a war cry. Part of me wanted it to be a war cry, though. It would have been pretty badass.

As we rushed forward to meet the mob, I lost sight of our group.

I dodged the full force of a thorny whip. It caught my forearm, slicing my skin open, but it knitted closed as I side-stepped. I hit the druid woman with a solid punch between her jaw and ear, not bothering to watch her fall.

Not watching was my way of ignoring the fact that I probably just knocked out a sweet lady who was someone’s mom.