I promise I’ll stay as safe as I can. And since Zay refuses to leave me alone, I figure if things get bad, I can always shove him into the line of fire while I run like hell.
He shoved at me, tried to take control, but I was nothing if not made of stubborn.
It’s not a damn death wish. I just know how much my pain is worth.
The last void stone I’d worn was a beautiful black stone caught in vines of copper and silver. It looked like a necklace, a piece of art, really. This thing was spud-ugly.
I was now officially Beckstrom the storm rod. And I hated it.
Zayvion and I had an agreement that we were going to give this relationship everything we could. And that included trust, faith, and honesty. Not a single one of which was among my strong points.
More drinking, less flirting,” he said. “Or so help me I’ll throw ice at you.
Oh, I was so not a wilting flower. I’d let a man pick me up and carry me because I couldn’t handle the price of using magic when I was dead. Again.
Right. Conversation. I might want to try some of that.
Still, I held my right hand ready to cast a spell in case arts-and-craft hour suddenly ended and they went back to Killing 101.
I cupped my hands over my ears. “No, no, no. Get out. Get dead.
Stone and blocks, like butter and bread.
He was like an undead boomerang. A zomberang.
I resisted the urge to pour mouthwash in my brain.
I needed sleep. Big squishy bunches of it. Soon.
Then they both smiled the exact same smile. Narcissism times two. Oh, get a room already.