But even they ran a tighter ship than whatever was happening here under Brad. The pass didn’t bristle with Elves, so though it meant it was relatively safe to cross into my territory, Brad made a tactical mistake. We would be under Yaya’s protection in no time. Her house sat far enough from the palace that no one really came out here. She always did enjoy her secret love nests.
My two would-be assassins remained fairly subdued after the encounter at the bridge and that suited me just fine. Maggie rode without protest, poking at the tenuous mate bond every once in a while, but her gaze stuck to her blackened fingertips. Jax got to walk. He looked strapping enough to handle it with his ruined tight shirt, stacked muscles and shoulder length, copper hair. Honestly, if he hadn’t been human, he might have managed to kill me.
I chuckled to myself. Well, probably not, but it was a fun thought. As it was, the magical mace wouldn’t come off my face so sparkles it would be to meet Yaya. She would appreciate it.
Her cozy cottage–her term, not anyone else’s–nestled into the hollow below as we crested the rise. Smoke puffed from one of the chimneys so she was at home in her five-bedroom-sun-deck-waterfall-into-a-pristine-rock-pool monstrosity. The warm breeze kicked up a hail of blue diamond-shaped petals that brushed against us in welcome. I expected Yaya to do the same–maybe stand in the doorway with the wry smile she always wore–but that was more of a daydream. A product of too much time away from my territory with no purpose, no hope, no action other than Maggie and I torturing each other. My heart yearned for home.
Instead, the cottage remained quiet. Too quiet as we dismounted, stabled the salamander and opened the back kitchen door. A woman’s scream pierced the air and everyone froze. Maggie stepped forward with murder in her eyes. I almost brushed by her to get to the sound above us until the overwhelming scent of sweaty sex hit me.
In the moments of my inattention, Maggie sprinted up the stairs and I missed catching her arm. Heavy whumps followed more cries while I casually followed Maggie upstairs to the bedrooms.
“Pumpkin…”
She paused at the bedroom door, raking her gaze over me, as the thuds became rhythmic. “Don’t just stand there.”
“Don’t-”
But she didn’t listen per usual and I leaned against the hallway wall to watch the show.
Maggie burst through the door just as I heard Yaya yell, “Harder!”
I stifled a laugh as Maggie screamed and Yaya replied, “Don’t stop, you idiot!”
The thumping resumed as Maggie burst back out the door and slammed it behind her. Her face flushed an alarming and adorable shade of red. I pulled her forward into my arms because I needed to shelter her virtue, not because I wanted to hold her.
“See anything worth trying?” I said, low, in her ear.
“Who are they? Your Elf lovers? Is this your secret hideaway?” Her voice came out brittle enough to crumble.
I searched her face. The jealousy was impressive and I liked it on her. Her last murder attempt still smarted and not physically. She really tried on that one.
“My grandma.”
Her eyes grew huge.
“What?” I asked. “Yaya is a fully mature, intelligent woman and she gave the best sex talk out of any of the parent figures. She taught me things I’ve yet to show you. Don’t be embarrassed on her behalf.” I pushed Maggie’s hair behind her ear, cupping the delicate shell of it.
“It looked… ambitious,” she said.
I pressed her against the wall, trapping her there. “Have I ever told you how much I love your outsized ambition?”
Her breath puffed against my neck and I rubbed my face in her silky hair. Maggie’s poppy scent filled the hallway until Yaya ruined it with a scream that shook the rafters.
Maggie ducked under my arm. “I’m not trying that.”
“Just describe the sex part and I can convince you.”
Maggie huffed back downstairs and I followed so Yaya could finish in peace.
“You can use small words…” My sentence trailed off as, from the corner of my eye, I caught a shiny magenta leaf glinting in the afternoon sun. I rushed into the sitting room, filled with warmth and the call of stolen naps.
“Gertrude!” My scream rivaled Yaya’s, shaking the house.
Falling to my knees before my beloved, tears welled. She sat in pristine condition, leaves happy, spread to the sun. I burrowed a finger into her soil to find it the perfect dampness. Yaya had gotten her out of the palace alive and taken the utmost care of her.
“Are you going to make out with it?”
I turned to find an even more delicious level of possessiveness on Maggie’s face. So, of course, I had to needle her.
