Page 62 of Heir

My belly churned with hunger and I went to the fridge, grabbing an apple and a jar of peanut butter. Were these people my guests? Did I have to offer them tea and coffee and food and stuff?

Earlier that morning, I heated up the pizza and leftover Thai food for them for breakfast. Then Drak stole Gemma’s steak out of the freezer while Zandren went to the bakery, and then the sandwich shop. I’m sure he was ordering a pizza to Delia’s house right now too.

I also made them coffee this morning.

I had been as much of a hostess to these uninvited guests as I could muster.

But this bitch with the long, dark hair, perfect winged black eyeliner, and crimson lips didn’t deserve tap water, in my opinion.

Slicing the apple, I scooped peanut butter onto each side and then took a bite. This was my go-to snack of choice. A complete protein; it got me my fats, my vitamins, and my fiber. Plus, it tasted like my childhood. Whenever I was upset, Aunt Delia would always put on a pot of rooibos tea, and make me apples and peanut butter. Then we’d sit at her kitchen table in the warm sunshine and she’d make me talk until I felt better. Sometimes she never even said anything. I just needed to vent, and by venting, I solved things myself. But I knew she was always there, listening, lending a supportive ear and an even more supportive heart. I never had to question whether or not she’d have my back or be in my corner.

That sudden memory made my chest ache and my throat grow tight. I set the paring knife down as the rush of painful emotions broke through the wall I’d created around my grief, and it all spilled forth in a wave of tears and sobbing.

“What the fuck?” Raewyn said.

But I couldn’t give a damn about her. I shook uncontrollably as the realization that I’d never see or speak to Delia again hit me like an eighteen-wheeler on an icy road.

A very warm arm wrapped around my shoulder, then turned me so I crashed face-first into a hard, hot chest. “It’s okay,” Maxar murmured. “It just hit you, didn’t it?”

I nodded and sobbed.

“What happened?” Raewyn asked.

“Her aunt, a spellcaster mage, was murdered today by two demons. We found her in her home. A necromancer came and recounted the last moments of her life where they tortured her,” Drak said matter-of-factly.

“Fuck,” Raewyn breathed. “Do you know which demons?”

“No.”

Maxar rubbed my back as I trembled and sobbed quietly against him. He was so warm, and he smelled faintly like a bonfire, but not in a repelling way. It was comforting. Slowly, my breathing decelerated, and I wasn’t sobbing as hard. The tears still fell and that lump at the back of my throat seemed to have doubled in size, but I wasn’t shaking anymore and I was able to pull in deeper breaths.

He released his tight hold on me and held me by the shoulders. “You just lost someone really important to you. It’s okay not to be . . . yourself right now. If you break down, it’s okay. It’s kind of expected.” I blinked through the tears at him, for the first time really looking into his eyes and how utterly beautiful they were. So many shades of gold, copper, and amber. And the longer I stared, the more those colors seemed to actually swirl around each other. It was hypnotic, but also calming. His smile pulled me out of my pit of despair. “There’s my girl.”

I smirked. “Your girl?”

His smile was so damned boyish and not at all cheeky like I was growing accustomed to. “A guy can hope.”

Letting out a stuttered breath from between thinly parted lips, I closed my eyes for a moment. “I can’t believe she’s just . . . gone.”

“It’ll take a while to truly sink in,” he said gently. “And it will get easier. But right now, understandably, it’s raw. So your emotions will be too.”

I blinked at him again. “Who have you lost?”

His smile was sad and small. “Too many people to list right now. Let me finish cutting up your apple for you. You go sit with that angry chick over there.” He jerked his strong chin toward Raewyn, who sat like she had a stick up her ass, on the edge of the couch. “Nice shirt, by the way.” He tugged on the hem. “I love Tough Love and Rough Play. I’ve seen them in concert six times.”

Swallowing, I blotted at my eyes with the sleeve of my T-shirt, smiling meekly at him before I wandered over toward my advisor. I sat on the coffee table facing her. “I understand this is probably not a job you wanted. And I hope this isn’t taking you away from family or another job, but I could really use your help. I think we got off on the wrong foot, and if you’re willing to start over, so am I.” Rolling my lips inward, I held out my hand toward her again.

She stared at it, blinking long, thick, fake eyelashes.

Her top lip started to curl up, like the idea of even touching me made her want to retch. She glanced sideways at Drak, who stood not too far away glaring at her, with his arms crossed over his chest.

Finally, she exhaled, almost in defeat, and took my hand. “Yes, let’s start over.”

I was too emotionally drained, too angry, sad, and overwhelmed to take her reluctance personally, even though it totally was. Whatever. She didn’t like me, and I didn’t like her. But I needed her, and she was my subject. So she had to obey her Queen.

Not going to lie, I kind of liked that power. Not enough to hang onto the crown for any length of time, and certainly not eternity, but the fact that she didn’t really have a choice, no matter how much of a racist she was, kind of brought me a sick sense of joy.

“So, what do I do first?” I asked.

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