Page 52 of Moonlit Alexandrite

I jacked up my dungarees and moved toward her in warning. Our height difference became more apparent as I approached, and I allowed myself a smug smile, having caught the small half step back she took before she could stop herself.

“The men you are talking about are my mates. My true mates. You tried to hurt them, and I am not okay with that. Leave. Now. Don’t contact them, and don’t even think of going after Newt, I’m claiming him too.”

Tammilyn shrieked in rage and lashed out with one perfectly manicured hand. I caught her wrist easily and pushed her aside.

“Get out of my shop and get out of our lives. You are not welcome here.”

It felt like an exorcism. A cleansing of sorts. I would figure out how to throw her bony butt out of town if I needed to, but no matter what, she was leaving, and she was not taking what was mine.

She snarled and shoved at my chest. I liked to think I would have kept my feet at any other time, but apparently when a fire witch is pissed, her magic takes over.

Power blasted out of her in every direction.

I hissed in anger as my head hit the floorboards, hard. Vision swimming, I looked up to see her face go white with shock before she bolted for the front door, leaving me in the middle of the inferno she had created.

I rolled to one side, dizzy from the fall, and watched as all of my beautiful stock caught fire. The air was unbearably hot, and I paused for a moment to clear my head. The smoke above me was black and sinister, and the fumes from the burning paint were making it difficult to work out which direction I needed to crawl for the exit.

I might be in a bit of trouble here, I thought idly as I bent forward to press my forehead to the ground so I could just breathe a moment.

Chapter Thirty-One

Tase

“This isn’t your usual schtick, that’s all I’m saying. Why am I here again?” Mikey asked me for the tenth time as I attempted to pick the lock on the townhouse we were trying to enter. The trickster god had the ability to cast illusions and could look like anyone he wanted. He often took over odd jobs around town when people needed a stand in. He had his uses… when he chose to be useful. Which he didn’t seem to want to be tonight.

“I already told you. Dash is on my shit list, and I need back-up. Can you help me out here?”

Mikey cocked a red brow at me, a half-smirk on his freckled face.

“Please,” I growled.

“There’s a window open on the second floor, why don’t you just climb up there?”

A glance at the terrace above us showed there was, in fact, a window ajar. I cursed, looked around one last time in hopes an alternative would present itself, then resigned myself to climbing the gods-damned wall. Maybe I should have brought Dash in. The cat could do this climb in his sleep. He was far better with locks too.

“Right, give me a leg up.” I held my foot up for him to boost me and frowned as he backed up a step, hands in the air.

“Ooh, man, I’d love to, but I just got a manicure, sure you understand.”

“I hate you when you’re in this kind of mood. Why the hell did you agree to help, if you aren’t actually going to help me?”

He shrugged. “I was bored, thought it would be good for a laugh.”

“Fuck’s sake,” I muttered and set about trying to climb the stupid wall. It took several attempts before I was ready to concede defeat and come up with a different tactic. My hands were scratched, I’d fallen on my ass enough times to send it numb, and fucking Mikey was in tears from laughing at my failure. Finally, Mikey straightened, wiped a tear from his eye, and announced, “Okay, new plan. Let’s use the spare key under the mat.”

I deserved a medal for not knocking the asshole out. Seriously.

With the fucking key in hand, we accessed the house easily and slipped into the sitting room.

“I hate you. Did I already say that?” I muttered as I looked around in horror at the excessive splendor of the furnishings. Gold plating and lace everywhere, and was that...? Ugh, a Tiffany lamp.

The guys seriously dodged a bullet with Tammilyn.

I wandered past a wall full of glamor shots of her in varying states of undress and tried to figure out how best to do what needed to be done.

“Mikey,” I hissed as he paused at a particularly revealing boudoir shot. His grin was pure mischief as he pulled down the photo next to it.

“Did you happen to notice she has photoshopped your faces into some of these?”

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