Page 48 of Bitten By Desire

“Like killing someone specific,” I said.

“Yes,” he answered, though I hadn’t meant it as a literal question.

“What happens after they achieve their objective?” I asked, aware of Julian settling in beside Lorraine on the sofa to my left.

“They are destroyed.”

“By the fairy who created them?” I pressed.

“Only if they are the strongest kind. But those are rarely used because they take so much magic to make. Only someone on the court could do that, and it would take weeks for one. Usually, they’re just decoys, and we don’t put that much in them.”

“You know a lot about them for never having seen one,” I muttered, sitting back and folding my hands in my lap.

“Tittwell studied at the fae university. Tittwell knows much.” He straightened proudly, yet still didn’t stretch to the top of the velvet chairback behind him.

“Okay. Then say someone on the court made some changelings and used as much magic as possible,” I said. “They go to destroy them after they accomplish the goal, but they aren’t destroyed. Then what?”

“The changeling would lose control of their mind slowly. They’d have no more purpose so would use whatever their power was and become defective while striving to meet a purpose that no longer exists.”

I shuddered, recalling how Sora’s lover had attempted to do just that by killing himself and eventually drove her mad enough to end both of them.

I was glad the fae at least destroyed that one I met yesterday before he, too, lost it. Reminding myself that the one after me was still around made me sick. But they hadn’t achieved their goal yet. They hadn’t gotten me to the queen. Yet they’d said there were three created. Mine, the one they killed in front of us, and…the one that killed Gerard?

“Okay, Tittwell, why wouldn’t my mind-bending work on one?” The fairy had confirmed he hadn’t had a charm.

He seemed to consider the question, eyes darting toward the others in the room then back to me. He licked his lips. “It should work.”

“It didn’t,” I snapped, annoyed. “I asked who he was, and he gave me the identity of the person he was pretending to be instead of the truth.”

Tittwell shrugged a little, I supposed the best he could while held by my magic. “Tittwell thinks he did tell you the truth as he knew it.”

I chewed that over in my mind. Then I remembered another detail of Binx’s story. The changelings thought they really were the people they replaced. I should ask Tittwell what they do with the real people, though the potential answer frightened me. Then I noticed him looking back at the others again and cleared my throat to regain his attention. We still hadn’t figured out who the one was that had killed Lorraine’s husband.

“If they made the Hector changeling to kill his bosses, then who did they send to kill Gerard?”

When Tittwell once again looked at the sofa instead of the woman questioning him, I turned to check with Julian and found him entangled with Lorraine, her leg hooked over his and hands threaded through his hair as they shared a passionate kiss.

My stomach dropped as I stood abruptly, not comprehending what I was seeing. My worst fears and insecurities had come to life in front of me.

“Forget the conversation. Forget you saw us. Leave,” I told Tittwell absently and he climbed off the chair and headed toward the door as I gaped at Julian, tugging at the hem of her skirt, already high up on her thigh.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I demanded.

They were too busy groping each other to pay me any attention. Storming forward, I shoved at their shoulders, attempting to pry them apart. But it was futile.

When Lorraine made a little whimpering sound and Julian started kissing his way to her throat, rage took over and I parted my hands in the air, sending them each sailing to the opposite ends of the couch, Lorraine flushed and breathing heavy, Julian looking confused and dazed.

“I repeat. What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m so sorry,” Lorraine began righting herself and stammering, but Julian made a move as though he meant to rejoin her and continue what he’d started, so I raised my left hand and kept him locked to the couch.

“It was rude to do that in public and in front of you,” Lorraine continued, gazing all doe-eyed at my lover.

“Rude?” I imagined the top of my head was about to blow off like in a cartoon. The woman had lost her fucking mind.

“Julian, I need you,” she cooed, starting to crawl across the couch.

“Stop,” I told her, and she did. Then I sniffed, realizing the scent of lavender had intensified like she’d put on perfume or something.

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