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Fighting a smirk, I accept the black folded leather, my eyes lifting to hers when I realize what it is. “You made this for me?”
“I did.”
“With your hands?”
She looks at me funny, but that's because she doesn’t get it. Gifted use their gifts for manual labor. She didn’t do that with this. This is crafted, every intricate design, every stitch.
“As we already established, yes, I did. I made it for you. I can't stand another second knowing how unprepared you are by having a dagger sticking inside your pants. One wrong move, you could cut the goods. My friend wouldn't like that. Hence, the sheath.”
I don't bother pointing out the fact that we are Gifted and my best friend's a healer because that's not the point here. I learned everything about my girl's new friend when I was playing in her head a week ago—my new favorite pastime. The girl was born on Exile Island, hunting and fighting is all she knows, and in the eyes of a hunter, a warrior as she is, you sheath your fucking daggers.
“It has a spot you can slide your belt right through, and in case you aren't the belt type, there's also a little flap so you can attach it straight to the loop instead. It should be the exact size you need to hold that baby. You can hide it under your shirt for the element of surprise or wear it proudly for all to see.Your choice.”
With that, Haide gives a playful salute, turns around and starts down the hall.
“Haide!”I call out, and she glances over her shoulder with a raised brow. “Thank you.”
For the sheath and for all you did to help us get here, freeing London and fighting beside her. For being good to her, a stranger in her world, when even I couldn’t manage that.
I say none of this to her, but I don’t have to.
She knows. The girl winks and walks away.
Securing the dagger in place, a small smile finds my lips and I head for the pavilion, a giant basement level space with side walls that open to the galaxy and allow for cloud seating along the outer rim of the room.
Fuck me, I’ve missed a good party.
It’s been ages since we threw one ourselves, but with the move into the new pad, it’s the perfect fucking occasion.
Tonight, we open the doors to our home for the people of Rathe for the first time.
* * *
London
I’m drunk and it’s fucking glorious.
The last few months have been the most challenging of my life, and for a moment there I wasn’t so sure I would ever be able to just ... be.
Yet, here I stand, at the edge of the room, the toes of my heels literally lining up against the point of the basement where the corner walls should be, but magic is fucking amazing, so there are none. It’s nothing but endless clouds and dark skies before me.
Just outside the space, the races are in full swing, and I watch as Ben, who is a fucking ginormous dragon now, moves up to the starting line, a smaller female to his right. Her scales shine a deep purple, her eyes a perfect match.
The pair huff and rumble, crouching their necks and perching in preparation.
A star explodes above them, and they burst, disappearing through the skies, leaving nothing but a trail of smoke in their wake.
A small laugh falls from my lips and I down what’s left of the black, glittery liquid Creed poured for me.
It's like an injection straight to the vein, my eyes flickering and muscles going limp in an instant. Fuck, I needed this.
My body is light and free, which is so odd when this realm’s greatest gift exists beneath my skin, it’s embedded in the deep slices of my forearms—the ashes of the bones of royal ancestors, my gift from the fallen King.
A Deveraux demon.
Mydemon.
The power that haunts beneath my skin is like nothing I’ve ever felt before, it is beyond comprehension. It's an utterly unmatched feeling, yet somehow... nothing could compare to the heat of my mate’s hands when he slides up behind me, curling his giant body over mine. He buries his head in my neck, his hot tongue flicking over the newest bite mark there, one bigger and deeper and on the opposite side of the original.
