Page 465 of Evil Hearts

“Remind me whywe live so far outside of town?” I ask, turning to look at Lythell, who’s currently driving us into said town. “I’m starving.”

Lythell chuckles. “Because we hate the assholes who live here?”

Waving my hand in the air, I nod. “You’re right. I probably should’ve eaten breakfast instead of sleeping in.”

Facing forward once more, I try to ignore the hunger raging in my belly. We’re almost to town, anyway. Just another ten minutes, and I’ll be able to eat all the food I want.

Both Lythell and I were born and raised just outside of town. Our parents, as well as a few others, had started a communal farm years ago. We’re mostly self-sufficient, but sometimes it’s nice to go out to eat. The thirty-minute drive isn’t bad—unless I sleep through breakfast, which happens more than I’d like to admit.

From what my mom says, the farm started with just five families, but has grown in size since then. I think there are about thirty families there now, plus those of us who haven’t found their mate yet. Growing up on a farm is hard work, but there’s something about knowing you’re the one who helped put the food on the table that makes it worth it.

It’s not the usual Mheann way, working together with various other species of monsters, but that’s because most people think that every other monster or human species is beneath them. We’d been taught better than that, which is the reason Lythell and I are best friends even though we’re different species.

Lythell is an Alphest, a serpent monster. As with most of the powerful species, he has two forms—a huge beastly form and a smaller form. He’s currently in his smaller form—not that it’s small exactly. When he’s in his beast form, he’s a fifty foot black serpent with wings and horns who can breathe ice. In this form, he’s still mostly serpent. The last time we measured him from his head to the tip of his tail, he was just over eleven feet long. He still has his horned serpent head in this form as well, but his torso is almost like that of a human—just covered in black scales, as the rest of him is.

I’m an Olnavi, and I have two forms as well. In my beast form, I stand nearly twenty feet tall and basically resemble a fox—if foxes had furry wings, multiple tails, and could breathe fire. In the smaller form that I use daily, I’m still covered from head to toe in the same red-brown fur as my beast—except one part of me that’s completely hairless. My head still resembles that of a fox, my torso much like Lythell’s except with fur, and I retain my eight tails and wings. Oh, and I’m nearly seven feet tall.

Yup. You read that correctly. I have eight tails, which means I’m one of the most powerful Olnavi to live in Mheann. There’s only been two recorded cases of an Olnavi with nine tails and ten cases of eight-tailed Olnavi. It’s probably at least part of the reason no one ever screws with the two of us. They wouldn’t stand a chance against Lythell, let alone against the two of us. It certainly makes trips into town a lot better since everyone is afraid to approach us.

“Finally,” I groan as Lythell pulls up in front of our favorite restaurant, Field to Fork. It’s owned by Tystel, who was raisedon the farm with us. He didn’t want to stay on the farm, but he uses as many resources from the farm as he can. Plus, he’s a damn superb chef. “If it had taken much longer, I might have had to make a snack out of you.”

Lythell says nothing, just shooting a droll look at me before swinging his door open. If he’d been the one to make the comment, I would’ve joked about how I’m more of a meal than a snack, but that’s just not my friend. He’s more of the silent, broody type.

I climb out of the truck, sniffing the air, hoping to guess what Tystel’s special might be for the day.

Only, it’s not the scent of food I’m hit with.

Lavender and eucalyptus.

“Mate,” I growl, spinning to meet Lythell’s gaze.

“Mate,” he returns in a hiss, and I smile.

Thank fuck we share a mate.

He’s my best friend, and this is something I want to share with him.

I climb back into the truck, Lythell doing the same thing before turning to look at me. “Use that nose of yours to navigate me, yeah?”

“It’ll be my pleasure.” Rolling my window down, I stick my head out it with a grin.

We’re both pushing thirty and were beginning to think our mate must not live in the area. We thought we were going to have to make the difficult choice of leaving to find our mate or mates. Looks like we’re done looking now.

“Take a right,” I order as we pull up in front of the grocery store. “She was here. Likely getting food for her mates.”

Lythell hums. “Already such a good mate, taking care of us before we even arrive.”

It doesn’t take long for us to pull up in front of a beautiful house that’s practically saturated in her scent.

We can’t tell from scents what monster someone is—except humans, who have softer scents that are harder to pick up on. I wonder what our mate will be.

Species don’t matter to us. How could it when we’ve always hoped for the same mate, and we don’t share a species?

Lythell barely remembers to turn off the truck and pocket the keys before he climbs out. As we near the door, her scent gets stronger, and my beast starts pushing against me.

He wants to meet our mate just as much as I do.

“Vox,” he hisses. “I don’t think I can contain the beast.”

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