Page 71 of Fae Farewells

“Are you jealous?”

“I want to choke you,” she hissed.

I smirked at her. “I know.”

“Not in a fun way.”

“Are you sure?”

She growled in frustration, making me grin.

“So, you’re not sure?” I clarified. “I can work with that.”

“I am so fucking pissed at you that I can’t even articulate the complete fuckery of this situation.”

She threw her hands in the air as she ranted, and I shook my head. I didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to kill anyone… But that’s what we were here to do. What did Vaughn say to her to make her so fucking docile? She was too agreeable, not starting shit with anyone, and that just wasn’t… Her.

“I don’t know why you’re mad,” I confessed, then mumbled. “I’m the one that’s covered in the blood of someone I didn’t kill.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?” she snapped.

“Not at all.”

“You know what? When Vaughn sees this mess, I’m telling him it’s your fault.”

I snorted. “What’s the fae going to do to me?”

“Be disappointed,” she growled, kicking a body before stomping toward a bedroom.

I flashed forward, grabbing her by the arm as I dragged her inside. Something else was going on, and now I was pissed that I couldn’t get to the root of it.

I slammed the door to Novak shouting, “That’s just gross, and that’s coming from a vampire. Take a fucking shower before you get on the bed.”

“You want to continue this without an audience now?” she inquired, her voice chilling in the darkened room.

“I want you to listen,” I ground out, my teeth aching with my tightening jaw. “Whatever he told you, forget it.”

She sighed. “He was right. I treat you guys like glass. I don’t trust you enough, and—”

“No.” I backed her against the wall, a little rougher than I meant, as I lowered my voice to match her’s. “No. We’re not trained the same way you are. We may be strong, have magic, whatever… But we’re not capable of the same things you can do. That doesn’t mean you don’t trust us or that you treat us like glass.

“I’m a fucking dentist, Sloane. Novak is a DJ. Palmer is a teacher. Briggs went to culinary school, for devil’s sake. Do you think any of us know how to wield a broadsword properly? Or withstand mental torture and attacks? Or fight a fucking army?”

“No?” she drawled, causing me to hang my head to cover my smile.

“Vaughn and York are royalty, so maybe they know a little more about the inner workings of all the court bullshit… But no one knows battle like you.”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t bring you into my practice and expect you to know how to perform a root canal. So why would you let someone else lead us into a fight? Especially when you’ve tried so hard to keep us from being injured when you know we’re in over our heads?”

“What are you getting at?”

“You know the difference between fighting three and fighting three hundred.” I patted my chest. “I can fight three. I cannot fight three hundred alone. But you can. You trust us with what we can handle. You know when we’re in over our heads, just treading water to stay alive. That’s not the same as treating us like glass or not trusting us. There is a difference.”

She narrowed her eyes, her intensity laser-focused on me. “I know.”

“Do you?”

“I need to trust you more, to know that you can handle yourselves if you are facing that army. Whether that means surviving or fighting is a call you’ll have to make. I can’t keep making them for you.”