Page 64 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
Fuck. He’s not wrong there.
My knee pops up, hitting him squarely in the crotch. Even Fae males are vulnerable to such pain, and as he bends over and groans, I jerk sharply against the wrist-hold and break it.
I stagger back from him, panting. “I gave you a partial truth. That warrants at least a hint about where the book is.”
He straightens, still wincing from the pain in his balls. “It warrants nothing.”
Enraged, I shove his chest with all my strength—no magic, just me. He barely budges a step. Stands there, smirking insufferably.
“I fucking hate you,” I seethe, aiming a punch at his face.
He blocks the blow, his hand closing around my fist. “I hate you back. You’ve been a fucking nuisance since you got here. I can’t get anything done. I watch you all the time—ugh!” He lets out a grunt as I kick him right between the legs again. “That’s it, Kin-Slayer. Enough.” As I’m lunging for a set of ceremonial daggers on a shelf, he seizes one of my braids and hauls me back to him. I shriek at the pain and fling up a hand, blasting him with my one-shot of defensive magic.
He flies backward into a heavy bookshelf, which shakes at the impact despite its solid structure.
I should have saved that blast for later. Now I’ll have to wait until that particular reservoir of my energy recharges.
West is on his feet again, striding toward me, so I retreat, backing away between two long rows of bookshelves. The look of predatory rage in his eyes chills my soul, but there’s lust in those eyes too, and that heats my blood, quickens my pounding heart.
I’m not sure what he’ll do when he reaches me.
Lifting both hands, I shake the bookcases on either side of me, faster and faster until they topple inward, spilling their contents onto the floor in a cascade of leather, parchment, and dust.
West bounds high into the air—an inhuman leap—and lands lightly atop the slanted bookcases. He crouches, one forearm braced on his knee, head cocked and eyes narrowed. “What’s your plan, Kin-Slayer? Destroy my family’s library in a vain attempt to murder me? If you’re trying to kill me, you’re not doing a very good job. One might suspect your heart isn’t in it.”
My inner rage mounts, and I release it in a screech of frustration. He laughs, leaping down from the bookcases and pacing toward me.
I infuse his gait with magic, speeding his walk to a run, and then I dodge so that he zips on past me down the aisle of books and smashes into a study table at the far end.
A giggle escapes me as he struggles to his feet, swearing.
“Laugh it up, bitch,” he sneers. “You’ll run out of energy sooner than I do.” He springs out of sight, behind the bookcases.
I don’t like not having eyes on him. It’s like knowing a spider is in the room, but not being sure where it’s lurking.
Cautiously I creep down the aisle. The bookcases are sturdily built, with solid backs, so they’re an impenetrable wall—I can’t peer through them. When I reach the end of the aisle, I peek around the corner.
More rows of books, extending into the gloomy reaches of the library.
Tilting my head, I listen. There’s the distant hammering of rain. The occasional quiet slap of my wet clothing against my skin as I walk. My shoes are silent on the thick carpet, and the orbs floating above make no sound. I breathe carefully through my parted lips, trying to catch the tiniest sound that might tell me where West has gone.
A small scuff, barely a whisper. Not down this row, or the next—above me.
My head snaps up, and there he is, slightly behind me, standing atop the bookcases. Before I can react, he leaps.
He knocks me down and tries to pin me, but I writhe free. His claws are out now, and they slice through the wet silk of the green blouse I’m wearing, shredding it easily. I jump up and run into the next row, tossing aside the silken rags, clad only in my black lace-up bustier and leather pants.
“I’ll make you a deal,” calls the Witch. “A book for a book. Give me the Tama Olc.”
“Why do you want it?”
“To work spells of greater power,” he says slowly, as if he’s speaking to a very foolish child. “As I’ve watched you and listened to your conversations with your friends, I’ve come to realize how rare a book it is. Give it to me, and you shall have the secrets of your new shoes.”
“No. I think I’ll use the Tama Olc to kill you instead.” After replying, I run a little farther and duck into the shadows behind a case of stuffed hunting trophies—most of them creatures I don’t recognize.
“But you haven’t had time to learn how to use the Tama Olc.” I can hear the grin in his voice. “The spells in books like that usually take time, careful study, and rare ingredients. Things you don’t have. Two days, Kin-Slayer. That’s how long you have left until you’re mine. And then I’ll take the book anyway.”
He’s right on all counts. But at least I can deprive him of one thing he wants. I may not be able to learn to use the Tama Olc in two days’ time, but I can prevent him from owning it after I’m dead.
