Page 190 of Mayhem and Minnie

He stops and turns. He raises a brow at me.

“Don’t insult Minnie,” I grit out.

“Ah.” He chuckles. “You’re not just her human shield, are you?” He shakes his head. “I told her to stop getting involved with humans, but she never listens.”

“Why are you here?”

The mere suggestion that she was involved with Lucien makes my blood boil.

He shrugs. “I wanted to know what stops her from leaving. You probably already know she’s being hunted, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should also know that staying here is dangerous for her.”

“And?”

“She needs to leave,” he states, his face expressionless.

“No,” I reply firmly. “Minnie isn’t going anywhere. She’s mine, and I’m marrying her.”

He stares at me for a second before he laughs. It’s an odd laugh, since there’s sound coming from his mouth, but his face is still.

“Marrying her?” He scoffs. “See, not bright. I was right.”

“Stop fucking insulting her!”

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” he asks in a mocking voice. “Like all those other weakling humans you killed?”

I don’t get to ponder on how he knows about that because I’m still pissed about his implication that she’s not bright. How the fuck dares he say that? She’s his sister, for fuck’s sake!

“What if I do?” I mutter under my breath, doing my best to keep my composure when I’d like nothing more than to snap his neck.

“I’d tell you to try.” He chuckles. “But you will not succeed,” he states in a low, ominous voice, as the same type of blue smoke starts emanating from him.

The temperature of the room drops. Damp areas around the basement immediately freeze. Icicles form around the pipes on the ceiling.

I start shivering, but I refuse to show that to him by wrapping my arms around my body to preserve heat.

Fuck. I hate the cold.

“It’s interesting,” he continues in a bored tone as he walks around the basement, studying every little nook. “There are no lingering spirits here despite their gruesome deaths.” He stops in front of my furnace and places his hand atop it. His eyes go white for a second before they go back to normal.

“Hundreds of humans you have killed here. Yet not one of them was left behind. Odd.”

“What the fuck are you saying?”

The blue aura around him shimmers and extends.

“No demons around, either.”

“Why the hell would a demon be in my house?”

“To feed on souls, of course,” he replies nonchalantly. “Do you know, twenty-five to thirty percent of souls refuse to cross over after death. They linger around, wallowing in their emotions. This room should be a beacon for them, yet it’s not.”

“So? Maybe I charmed them into the afterlife,” I add drily.

He gives me a pointed look.

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