Page 50 of Of Wind and Terror

My cherub needs all the sleep she can get before the next leg of our journey, and I’ll be damned if I allow any of these imbeciles to ruin it for her.

Blaze, who hasn’t slept the entire time we’ve been here, rolls his eyes at me and scowls. When I woke up a short while ago, I found the Fall Prince already awake and cooking meat over the fire. His eyes remained alert and tense, constantly flicking from side to side as he surveyed our barren surroundings.

I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that the warrior prince wouldn’t feel comfortable sleeping out in the open.

Especially with his mate nearby.

I jerk my chin towards the carriage and then stealthily jump to my feet. Treyton doesn’t take my proffered hand, though, instead choosing to rise to his feet and shoulder past me.

“Feisty little thing, isn’t he?” I say conspiratorially to Blaze, who simply glares at me.

He gestures for me to walk in front of him, not trusting that I won’t put a knife in his back (valid), and I make sure to put an extra sway to my hips as I walk.

“Quit checking out my ass, Blaze,” I whisper-shout over my shoulder. “You’re being a pervert.”

Blaze looks a single tick away from strangling me with his bare hands, and I can’t help but grin.

I take immense enjoyment in riling the other male up. He always gets this look on his face that screams he intends to anal probe me with a knife.

Love it.

“What is this about, elf?” Treyton runs a hand through his pink hair and releases a yawn, his face practically splitting in two.

How this fae manages to pick up females, I have no idea. Literally no idea.

Blaze positions himself so he’s slightly behind the carriage but still able to keep an eye on Kassandra. My cherub twists slightly in her sleep, golden hair fanning over one arm, and my heart pinches.

Honestly, before her, I didn’t even know that organ still worked. Maybe it doesn’t. After all, it’s not the heart that draws you to a person, despite the cliché saying. It’s the mind. The soul. The only thing the heart does is pump blood to your other organs—including your cock.

My cock has been perpetually hard since I first removed my fae façade and regained my eyesight.

Lies. You’ve been perpetually hard long before that, since you first heard the Death Whisperer mentioned.

I roll my eyes at my internal voice—so dramatic—and then refocus on the conversation at hand. Blaze and Treyton are still staring at me expectantly, the latter appearing confused and the former murderous. Always murderous.

We could be great friends, him and I. If, you know, we both weren’t obsessed with the same female.

A female we need to have a conversation about, sooner rather than later.

And a conversation with.

But first things first.

I clap my hands together with a beatific smile, which neither fae returns. “I think you both know why I requested this meeting.”

“To kill us and hide our bodies?” Treyton’s brows furrow as he speaks.

Despite his lighthearted tone, I detect genuine worry in his voice.

To put the fae male at ease, I laugh and playfully shove his shoulder, causing him to stumble. His face drains of all color, appearing stark white beneath his shock of pink hair.

Huh. Note to self. Laughing does not put others at ease. Good to know.

I will my laughter to subside and then press my lips together, adopting a serious expression.

If anything, Treyton looks even more terrified. His hand moves to where he normally keeps his sword before he seems to remember that he took it off before he went to sleep.

So I can’t laugh, and I can’t look serious, apparently. What else is there to do? Frown? I suppose that could work…

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