“Were you the cause of the Upheaval?”
“Is it true that you’re a demigoddess?” a third shouts.
Gods. Do they always ask such obvious questions?
“Someone ask something that we don’t all already know the answer to,” I sigh.
That was apparently the wrong prompt to give, because a woman steps forward who isn’t even trying to hide the fact that she’s checking out my quintet. She clears her throat, shoving a microphone toward me as she keeps her gaze on my four gorgeous matches the entire time.
“Maven Oakley. You belong to a nightmare-devouring half-monster, a prodigy turned necromancer, a dragon that breathes the hottest fire known to mankind, and a rich, nevermelt-wielding general. That’s quite the impressive quintet, not to mention their looks! You’re very lucky. How does it feel to have such raw power at your beck and call? Is your connection to Paradise the reason the gods blessed you so extremely generously with your matches?”
Hold the fucking phone,Baelfire growls through the bond.Did this bitch really just bring up all of our abilities except yours? Is she just ignoring the fact that you’re a fucking demigoddess?
I don’t have to look to know that the rest of my quintet is equally irritated by her wording, but I couldn’t care less about someone overlooking me.
Her real mistake is that she’s still drooling over my quintet.
Covering the microphone and moving it away so I can speak only to the woman, I give her a misleadingly sweet smile. “I don’t blame you for lusting over them, but if you look at what belongs to me again, I’ll hex you to piss shards of glass for the rest of your rapidly shortening lifetime.”
Her eyes widen and she retreats like her ass is on fire.
So possessive,thanafluir,Silas chuckles through the bond.
With threats like yours, who needs poetry?Crypt tacks on, squeezing my hand affectionately.
I’m struck with a sudden, strong urge to drag one or both of them aside to kiss them. Baelfire is still glowering over the people admiring us, andgods, I love his dangerous side. Everett, too, has my attention as he completely ignores the photographers subtly trying to take pictures of his beautiful, scarred face.
Pleasant heat tingles in my lower stomach. Maybe it’s because we were just all bound together again, but I’m already so fucking ready to be done with this so I can jump their bones again. It’s not like I can resist them for long when they’re so protective and handsome andmine.
Gods, I smell that and it’s fucking divine,Baelfire groans through the bond just to me.
Someone else steps forward to interrupt my possessive thoughts, eyeing the ravens around us nervously as he lifts a microphone toward me.
“M—Maven Oakley, we’ve heard quite a lot of rumors about you for six months. Some of those rumors have been clearly false, but with your recent return and the unexpected surges and attacks at the fringes of the ever-growing Nether?—”
I check to make sure my etherium knife is still in my boot where I left it, pulling it out to study the beautiful, clear blade. “Get to the point.”
Several of the reporters turn and run.
That made it seem like I was threatening them again, didn’t it?I realize.
Maybe don’t pull knives out in casual conversation,Everett suggests.
He’s clearly amused, as are the others. Crypt is outright laughing at me, kissing the back of my hand.
Finally, the reporter extending his microphone grows a pair, clears his throat, and asks, “Is it true that you’ve returned to bring about the end of the Upheaval?”
“Something like that.”
The reporters get excited, taking pictures and repeating variations of that question until one of them spits out, “How are we supposed to trust you? Aren’t you still the Entity’s scourge?”
I look at that one. “I don’t give a fuck if you trust me, but I am not Amadeus’s scourge anymore. I’m his reckoning.”
They’re still going wild over that when I spot Lillian approaching, trying to peek over the reporters to see me better. Deciding the world will have to make do with whatever pictures and shit they just got, I move forward, trying to get to Lillian. When one of the excited photographers gets too close for a close-up shot of my face, I instinctively flinch back from the threat of physical contact.
He’s immediately frozen in place, encased in such thick ice that it doesn’t shatter when Everett kicks over his newest ice sculpture and turns to glare at the cameras.
“Get out of my sight before you join him,” my elemental warns the reporters.
