The wrakh charges at Ezra, but I step in front of him, place my hands behind my back, and flash him my sweetest smile. Iain comes skidding to a halt, standing nose to nose with me.
“Hello, Iain. It’s so nice to see you again.”
All I have to do is contain my rage and be nice to the motherfucker.
Can’t be that hard, right?
Iain lunges for me, dragging me into a death-hug, his hands flitting over my arms, my waist, my thighs.
I glance at Ezra, who watches with the kind of stillness that makes galaxies nervous.
Then Iain cups my ass. Again.
Oh, come on. At this point, I’d take the thing in the well over this handsy prick.
Ezra growls low, a sound too old to be human.
His shadows lash out before either of us can react, lunging toward Iain’s fingers with lethal intent. They stop just shy of snapping bone, shivering with frustration as Ezra reins them in at the last possible second.
That’s when I shove him away as hard as I can, and accidentally send him flying across the yard.
Oh … Whoops.
“Shit,” I whisper, rushing toward the grabby asshole I just body-checked with my rage magic.
“I’m so sorry, Iain. I didn’t know that would happen.”
I reach out to help him up, but he slaps my hand away with an angry scowl.
Ezra’s there in a rush of shadows, towering over Iain with his hand wrapped tight around his neck.
“Iain, why must we do this every time we meet?” Ezra growls, removing his hands from the wrakh’s throat, then helping the insufferable asshole to his feet.
The eddies aren’t so forgiving. One shadow hovers over Iain’s chest, twitching, debating whether to sink in.
Ezra exhales sharply. The shadow ripples in frustration, then reluctantly retreats, curling back against him.
“You said you’d help her, Iain, that all she had to do was ask.” Ezra’s voice is smooth, but absolute. “Well? She’s asking.”
He steps forward, shadows lapping at his feet. “We both know there’s trouble brewing. You feel it. So, enough bullshit. Enough posturing. I trust you and your magic. Or I wouldn’t have brought her here.”
“Fuckin’ hell, Ezra. Every time you darken my doorstep, my life turns to shite,” Iain grumbles, yanking at his shorts only for them to slide right back down his narrow hips.
“Hello, little blackbird. Back so soon? I see you’ve fucked the ancient monster then. And now you’ve got yourself a fancy little shifter tattoo, eh? Christ, girly, you’re a walking death wish.”
He presses a smug kiss to my knuckles, his roguish grin practically asking for a throat punch.
“You’ve got some serious power running through that tight little body of yours, sweetheart,” Iain purrs, wrapping his arm around my waist.
The eddies don’t take this lightly. One slides between his fingers and my ribs, forcing space between us with an almost disdainful flick.
This time, it’s Louie who loses her patience, storms over to us, and punches Iain in the face.
“Oi! Don’t fucking touch her, you miserable asshole!” Louie yells, just before she hisses in pain and roughly rubs her fist. “Fuck! Is your head made of concrete or something?”
Ezra’s shadows ripple with slow approval. For once, they don’t bristle at Louie. They just … nod, in their own weird, inky, wiggly way.
“Well, well. What do we have here?” Iain purrs, touching his cheek where a drop of blood beads to the surface while a devious smile plays on his lips.
