Page 63 of Heir

Maxar brought over the plate of sliced apples and a bowl of peanut butter.

Smiling, I thanked him, took it, and dove in.

Raewyn watched with more disdain, her sourpuss face and clear impatience only making me take my time even more.

Fuck you, bitch. I hadn’t eaten anything all day. Also, my aunt just died, and I’m your goddamned Queen. So deal with it.

She said nothing as I ate my apples and peanut butter. In fact, nobody said anything.

Drak stood there like a wax figurine, his expression neutral and annoying, and Maxar was on his phone at the barstool at the kitchen counter.

Once I finished my snack, I got up and went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of guava and spirulina kombucha. I drank the whole thing, maintaining eye contact with Raewyn the entire time. Once I put the bottle into the recycling bin, I approached her again. “What do I do first?”

She stood up from the couch. “You lay down.”

Nodding, I did as she said.

“Now, close your eyes and relax.”

A bit difficult considering how my life was going right now, but I did the best I could.

I was working on deepening my breath and slowing it down when a knife, an actual fucking knife, sliced through the two lobes of my brain. I bolted upright with a scream, clutching at my head. I pulled my hands away, expecting to see blood. But there wasn’t anything there.

I faced Raewyn, furious. But unlike when I’d been angry with Drak, Zandren, and Gemma before, causing them to scream in pain and clutch the sides of their head while blood fell from their nose, a big shield slammed down around Raewyn—in her brain not literally—and my anger didn’t penetrate. “What did you do to me?”

Her gaze was unwavering. “Next time I do that, I want you to envision that shield you just felt me put up. Literally picture it in your head and stop me.”

I glared at her.

“Lay back down,” she said with no inflection.

I did as I was told, still shooting lasers at her out of my eyes. Her shield was still up and impenetrable.

Once again, I tried to relax. She came at me this time with an axe, cutting cross-wise through my brain. I envisioned a shield, but it was weak, and it came down too late. The axe was already in my head. My brain throbbed in pain, and when I reached up and touched my upper lip then opened my eyes, blood stained my finger.

“Again,” she said.

So we did it again.

And again. And again.

And every time, she tried a different weapon.

And every time, my shields weren’t strong enough.

I was exhausted, and blood poured from my nose and ears, all over the light-blue, crushed velvet, pillow sham Gemma bought at a flea market.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Maxar said.

“No. She needs to learn how to not only block another demon, but block herself and control her emotions,” Drak said. “Again.”

Goddammit, these men were hot and cold. Maxar was hot and compassionate, and Drak was as cold as a corpse with zero empathy or consideration. I was getting whiplash.

Popping one eye open, I found the coldhearted vampire standing at the end of the couch, staring down at me with so much disapproval in his gaze, I actually wanted to curl up in a little ball and just weep. Weep because I was tired. I was grieving, and I was clearly a shitty demon and queen. He was probably standing there watching me, wondering how he could get out of this Fated Mates bullshit too. That he’d been stuck with a dud. A hybrid, halfling dud that couldn’t even do what demons did best. “I’m doing the best I can,” I croaked.

Barely a flicker of emotion flashed in his eyes. “If you were, you’d mate with us so you could absorb some of our powers and help yourself.”

“Dude,” Maxar said with disapproval.

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