Page 57 of The Reign of Blood

I frown at the shouting coming from the other side of my bedroom door before a knock pounds against it. What’s going on now? It’s probably some idiot complaining to me about how another mage is being unfair, like it even matters to me.

Pushing to my feet, I cut the distance between me and the drama awaiting in the hallway.

“Are you dumb? I said?—”

The mage slams her lips shut when I swing the door open to find her pointing and yelling in the face of my favorite little fae.

Adrianna Reagan.

“I’m sorry, Brody. This girl won’t listen,” Clara grumbles, offering me a sympathetic smile before turning her wrath back to Addi. “You,” she starts, pointing in her face. “Don’t get to come in here and—” She’s muted once more, but this time it’s not from my appearance; it’s from Addi’s hand wrapped around her throat as she slams her into the wall beside my door.

“I quite specifically warned you not to aim that finger in my face again, or you would face the consequences,” Addi hisses, nostrils flaring with agitation before she flips her gaze my way. “Hi.”

It’s soft, delicate, sweet even.

“Hey,” I breathe, completely caught up in the way the sun lights up her hair, making the small smile on her lips even more alluring.

“I was hoping to ask for a favor,” she states, ignoring the mage in her grasp.

Favor? Yes, please. Put this woman in my debt and seal it with the wax of King Reagan himself.

“Of course, come in.” I take a step back, swinging my arm out wide for her to follow me, but before she moves a single inch, she looks back at Clara.

“Did you hear that?” she asks, cocking her brow as Clara’s face scrunches in discomfort.

“Fuck you,” the mage spits out, wincing a beat later when Addi tightens her grip.

As hot as this is, and it’s fucking smoking, I’m intrigued by the favor she wants. “Let the poor mage go, Addi. She’s not worth your time,” I murmur, extending my hand in her direction.

Her glare at Clara stretches out for a few more beats before she looks down at my hand that awaits the warmth of hers. She purses her lips, considering the offer, then releases her hold on Clara’s throat and places her hand in mine.

I pull her inside without wasting a single second, and she drops her hand from mine as soon as the door shuts. She saunters into the center of my room, slowly spinning as she casts her eyes over every inch of the space.

Trying to envision it from her perspective, I trail behind her gaze.

Soft gray walls are barely visible behind cluttered shelves and cabinets, which also frame the window straight ahead. They’re all filled to the brim with books, ingredients, and everything in between. You name it, I probably have it. I see being a mage as an art form. One that requires access to items some people haven’t even heard of.

My bed is central on the wall to my right, a nightstand on either side, with a doorway in the corner leading to my private bathroom. A desk sits against the wall by the door, the wood matching the cabinets, while the drapes and sheets are an olive green, lightening the room despite so many dark fixtures.

“What brings me the pleasure of a favor from the sweet dagger in my life?” I ask once her gaze settles on mine. Her blonde hair is braided in a crown on her head, but a loose tendril still dangles around her face. She busies herself, attempting to tuck the loose curl behind her ear as she seeks the words.

“I was wondering if you have any sand.”

“Sand?” I clarify, and she nods, clearing her throat as her lips rub together.

“That’s not what I was expecting at all,” I admit, running my eyes over her, and she grins.

“Surprise.” Her sass brings out a smile of my own.

“What do you need it for?”

Her eyebrows pinch together as she folds her arms over her chest.

“Does it matter? It’s just sand.”

“Color me intrigued.”

“Color you a pain in my ass,” she snaps back, irritation fluttering over her skin as my gaze narrows on hers.

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