Page 82 of Sincerely, Secretary of Doom

They fell through the building and crashed into a floor, making the whole structure shudder. Cracks burst in every direction, and the floor nearly caved in. The only thing that wasn’t broken was Violet.

Violet’s heart pounded as she looked at the person beneath her whose shirt she gripped for dear life. Her pulse skipped a beat or two. Or seven.

Dust and wood chips were tangled into Mor’s hair. He stared back at her for a moment. Then he slid his arm around her waist and rolled her over. She found herself beneath him, eyes widening when she noticed chunks of beam and brick detaching from the roof above—they plummeted down. She yelped as the debris smashed over Mor’s back, his body tense while wreckage tumbled off both sides.

Their eyes met.

Violet felt like there were things she needed to say. But mostly…

“I miss Shayne,” she croaked. She felt horrid for saying it, but elated, too. She hadn’t even thought of Shayne since Mor had caught her, but now that she’d said the white-haired fairy’s name aloud, she couldn’t get him off her mind.

Mor blinked, his eyes squinting as he looked at her in question. He glanced at her mouth.

“Mor, I miss him so much my head hurts. Where is Shay—”

Mor brought his lips to hers, silencing her and filling her with a slow warmth. It trickled all through her chest, into her abdomen and down her limbs. It sent sparks into her brain, making her feel alive, and wild, and nervous all at once. She was sure this wasn’t real. Her hands found his cheeks, drifting around to clasp behind the back of his neck. She pulled him in closer and he relaxed against her, crushing her beneath him enough to feel like a shield without cutting off her air. A tear rolled down her face, one lonesome, treacherous one.

What was so remarkable about Shayne anyway, apart from his delightful smile, handsome face, and witty personality? Sure, maybe he was a catch in some people’s eyes for all those somewhat compelling reasons, but Violet had never been more sure that he was wrong for her. In this moment, she was absolutely consumed by the fairy above her.

Someone nearby cleared their throat.

Violet stopped her kissing.

Mor didn’t.

He ignored the bystander and slid his dust covered hand into Violet’s splayed hair, brushing away her tear with his thumb as he did.

The person cleared their throat again. Then someone else did it, too.

Two bystanders, then.

“Excuse me, boss?” one of them squeaked from a dry throat.

Mor did stop then. It seemed to take him a moment to figure out who was talking to him as he held tight to Violet, his mouth barely off hers. He finally lifted his head and glanced over, so Violet did, too. And she realized, for the first time, that they were in the cathedral.

The broken-roofed, woodchip-covered, dirty-all-over-again cathedral.

Remi and Jase stood on the stairs, both pale and round-eyed. Remi held tightly to a frying pan like she’d been preparing to use it as either a shield or a weapon.

“Ah, right. Them,” Mor murmured, more to himself. He eyed Remi’s frying pan. “Don’t even think about trying to hit someone with that, Human. Trust me; it hurts.”

When he spoke, Violet pulled her gaze back to him, noticing how he glowed like the morning sun, and sounded like a smooth-running river when he talked, and—

“Don’t mind Violet for the next few minutes. She’s going to act strange,” Mor added as a warning to the interns.

He climbed to his feet, pulling Violet up with him. Then he winced and released a moan as he stretched his back and neck. He reached over to his opposite shoulder and seemed to snap a bone back in place—Violet shrieked.

Jase fainted.

It was only then that Violet noticed Mor’s hands were covered in dried blood, his t-shirt was sliced in five places, and there were gaping wounds over his abdomen, knees, and arms. The sight must have made her eyes wide and wild because from the stairs, Jase asked as he came to, “W… What’s wrong with her?” The intern’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Violet was baffled he didn’t ask why she and Mor had just come plummeting in through the ceiling. There was no elephant in this room—just an elephant-sized mound of roof debris and weirdness.

Mor scratched the back of his head. “It’s going to seem like she likes me, a lot. It may get a little unbearable for you to watch to be faeborn honest,” he told Jase. “Normally when this happens to a fairy, we lock him in a closet for a while, but it seems cruel to do that to a human, so…”

“Mor,” Violet stopped him. Mor glanced back at her. There was a strange look on his face, like he was trying to figure out what was compelling her to speak. There was also something else though—worry. Hesitation. Something that looked like fear. “I’m totally clear-headed,” she stated. “I was kissed enough times to have caught on that my mind was being yanked around whenever it happened. I know I’m the victim of some sort of creepy kiss potion you all must have drunk today!”

Mor chewed on the inside of his cheek. It seemed like he was waiting for something.

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