“Behave like a brat,” I whisper, “and perhaps you’ll get spanked.”
“Behave like a monster, and perhapsyou’llget put in a cage.”
“You think you know what a monster is?” My voice is low and dangerous, my wings rippling with barely contained fury. I don’t know what she sees in my eyes, but it’s clear she knows she’s gone too far this time. Her mouth clamps shut, her eyes widening, pulse thrumming wildly beneath the pale skin of her neck.
I wrap a clawed hand around her throat and trace a delicate line up her neck with my thumb, making her tremble—a thing that’s dangerously close to becoming one of myfavoritenew pastimes. “Be very,verymindful of how you speak to me, little mortal. My rope only extends so far, and once you reach the end of it, you willnotlike what you find there.”
“I… I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“No, not yet. But push me again, and you will be.” I haul her off the vanity, throw her over my shoulder, and dump her unceremoniously in the hallway, slamming the bedroom door in her face.
Alone in the shower later, tail wrapped tight around my aching cock, it takes me a full hour to fuck the little brat out of my system.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
WESTLYN
“I see we’re still in hiding.” Auggie takes a seat on the couch across from me in the library and smirks, his warm hazel eyes sparkling. “It won’t help, you know. He can scent you. All of us can.”
“Thanks for the hot tip.” I roll my eyes and promptly return my attention to my current read—Gargoyles, Grotesques, and Chimeras: A Spiritual and Architectural History. “Anyway. If byheyou’re referring to the grump formerly known as Daddy Drae, then yes. I’m hiding from him.”
“Formerlyknown? What’s his current name?”
“DickheadDrae. Alternately, he-who-kicked-me-out-of-his-room-last-night-and-dumped-me-on-my-ass-like-he-was-taking-out-the-trash Drae, but that one’s more of a mouthful.”
“You should know better than to push his buttons.”
“But it’s so fun.”
“Yes, just like juggling knives. Fun… until it isn’t.” Auggie nods at my book. “Learn anything interesting?”
“Actually, I did! You’re not really a gargoyle.”
“No?” He laughs, his cute dimple flashing. “Well, that’s a relief. When do I lose the wings and tail?”
“Real gargoyles,” I continue, “have water spouts. Technically, you guys are called grotesques, which is fitting, don’t you agree?”
“Are you seriously witch-splaining gargoyle anatomy to me?” He shakes his head. “Give a girl a book, and watch out, world.”
Laughing, I shut the gargoyle book and set it aside. “I just needed a break from all the dark fae lore and that stupid Codex. Rook and I have been working on it for two nights straight, but it still won’t open.”
I stand and head to the library table behind me, where the cursed book has been sitting since Rook and Drae brought it home. With the barest brush, I trail my fingertips across the cover, unleashing a ripple of dark purple light that sends a jolt of pain shooting up my arm.
“Fuck,” Auggie says. “Does that happen every time?”
I shake out my tingling hand. “Yep. Rook thinks he can build something to disarm it, so to speak, but we’re not there yet. He’s trying to find more info on the Cerridwen witches that translated the original dark fae work.”
I return to my chair and close my eyes, the expected post-book-touching migraine pulling into the station right on schedule. I press my fingertips to my temples, trying not to wince.
“You okay, witchling?”
“Just another side effect of the book. The headache thing doesn’t happen to Rook, thankfully, but…Goddess, it feels like… like someone’s trying to split open my skull and dig through my thoughts.”
“West, you don’t have to do this,” he says, his tone suddenly serious. Gentle, even. “You’ve already risked so much.”
I open my eyes and shake my head, trying to ignore the jackhammering in my skull. “I can deal with a little zippety-zap and few lousy headaches if it means getting us closer to breaking the curse.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment, the skin between his brows creased, his eyes full of a deep and endless ache whose origins I can only begin to guess at.
