Page 25 of Wanted: A Roommate Who Isn't Evil

Beth blushed again, her moment of fear transforming into agiggle. “I mean… okay. Sure.”

Dranian thought to stomp off and leave the dresser all to Luc. But Luc suddenly lifted, and the weight of it tilted onto Dranian too fast for him to escape. He caught it, and after nearly choking on the agony of the pressure, he quickly shuffled backward out the bedroom door, Luc shimmying after him.

Beth followed, eyes glowing. She pointed to a spot by the entry. “Put it there,” she dictated.

The two fairies obeyed, setting the dresser on the floor with athudand less care than required. Dranian was sure his body would burst, that a tear or two might escape his watery eyes from sheer strain. But he turned back to Beth with his lips pinched tightly together, blinking away any traces of moisture before she could see it.

“You’re welcome, dear Beth.” Luc bowed a little. He turned to leave. “I’ll be in touch about our romantic date—”

“Actually, since you’re here anyway, would you mind carrying out some of these boxes to my car? I’m going to drop them all off at the thrift store tomorrow.” Beth pointed to a stack of boxes in the living space. Boxes that were not all that large—ones she could have certainly carried herself.

Dranian wanted to cry a little then. He hardly cared if she saw him.

Luc though… His mouth was pressed into a thin line. His eyes narrowed upon her, and Dranian saw the moment the fox’s mind changed; the very flicker of murder that entered his gaze.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Beth tossed her flirtatious laugh to them as she turned around and headed to the boxes, shoving a set of earbuds into her ears. The faint sounds of music began coming from them as she scanned the box labels as if deciding which ones she wanted them to carry first.

One of Luc’s fairsabers appeared. The low buzz of the blade forming burned in Dranian’s ears. He hardly had time to draw his spear, sweep before the marching fox, and block his blade before it would have sliced clean through Beth.

Luc glared at her back as Dranian held him at bay. “Let me kill her, North Fairy. You want her to die now too, admit it.”

Dranian nudged him back, and Luc reluctantly dropped his saber to his side, but he did not take his murderous glare off Beth’s back.

Beth picked up a box and began to turn around.

Two fairy weapons retracted in a heartbeat. Two deadly handles went into pockets.

“Here,” Beth said to Dranian first as she handed him a box. She pulled one of the earbuds out of her ear to tell him something important. “Be careful with this one. It’s fragile.”

Luc’s snarl was too low to be heard by a natural human ear.

Dranian nodded once, then turned to carry the box away. But he paused by the door, waiting.

Beth handed Luc a box, too. Luc looked her up and down, not in an immodest way—more like a forest hunter who’d caught a hogbeast and was deciding how to butcher it before he ate it.

“Luc,” Dranian called. His voice was dry and strained, and he hoped Beth could not hear the tone in it that told the story of how hurt he was, how every move he’d made in the last five minutes had nearly destroyed him.

Luc reluctantly tore his gaze off Beth and turned to follow Dranian out, seeming to realize that if he assassinated the building owner in her apartment, he would no longer have a place to live. He would lose, and perhaps Luc was the sort who hated to lose.

Dranian thought about that as they carried a dozen boxes to Beth’s car.

He was being foolish.

Nighttime came with a whistling wind outside Dranian’s bedroom window. Dog-Shayne fell asleep almost instantly at the foot of his bed. He stared up at the human realm stars, twinkling in their places. The stars seemed to ask him questions he didn’t have answers to. Questions such as:Are you daft? How could you not tell Mor that the treacherous fox of his childling years is sharing a box of space with you? How could you keep it from Cress, too, whom you swore to serve with the remainder of your faeborn life? And most of all, how could you not even call Shayne when Shayne would have certainly called you if the roles were reversed?

Guilt prickled his insides. It was becoming unbearable.

Everything would have been easier if Shaynehad just stayed and been Dranian’s roommate from the beginning.

Dranian tried to imagine his lifelong ally in his situation. But everything would have been different if Shayne was the one living with the fox. Firstly, because Shayne couldn’t keep his mouth shut; he would have told Mor and Cress immediately. He would have talked Luc’s ear off day and night. He might have tried to shoot the fox in his sleep already. Or he would have done what he was best at—annoy the life out of Luc with his tedious habits of singing and chatting and appearing in one’s face at all hours.

If Shayne were in Dranian’s situation, the matter might have already been dealt with.

Dranian wished he knew how to be annoying. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he tapped his fingers against his phone. Even if Dranian wasn’t a natural at the sport of intentional annoyance, maybe Shayne could at least talk him through the steps. Perhaps one phone call wouldn’t hurt.

He quickly hit the code of buttons that would make Shayne’s phone ring on the other side of their magic connection. He did it before he could change his mind. It was the first call he’d made to Shayne since the day the fellow had left to follow Greyson to the kingdom of Florida.

It rang. It rang some more.

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