Page 70 of What The Hex (The Family Spells)
“You are not staying here,” Argent snarled out, losing his temper for the first time since Monster had stepped out of the woods and I’d seen him for the first time in fourteen years. “In my house, with my children, with Grace. You forget that the last time we saw each other, she was a broken mess, Monster. She had no faculties left; you destroyed everything good that was left between the two of you.”
“I did,” he agreed easily, and I felt my stomach muscles clench tight. I’d thrown up a bit this morning, but again, could still be the side effects of the spell. “You have every right to hate me, but regardless of that, you need me.”
“Maybe we need your help,” Argent continued, struggling to control his breathing. He was getting angrier by the second. I ended up rising to my feet and moving over to stand between them. “But you are no longer welcome in my house.”
Monster’s shadowy wings tucked in close against his body. He snarled at Argent and flexed his fingers, the long sharp-tipped nails at the end of them digging into his palms as he growled. I felt a pang in my chest, and it took everything I had to keep it together.
The dream I’d had on repeat over the course of those four weeks replayed in my brain again, that field of black tulips, the silver grass, Monster’s smile, the love I’d felt for him.
I wanted to pretend it was no longer there, that I felt nothing, that I truly hated him and nothing more. Yet, there was a reason I took forget-me-now potions on the regular, now wasn’t there?
“The demon king has gathered an army of witch-eaters, and Cabal Ungeist is prepared to bring them over with the help of Coven Wyrmwood. If you’re not concerned, then I will leave and enjoy what little time I have on earth before the Fire Veil falls. Once demons have unfettered access to this side of it, your world will change forever.”
“What do you care either way?” Argent asked as I put a hand on his arm to calm him. As far as what to say, I … I just didn’t know. “You’re trapped in Hael as it is. Isn’t the Fire Veil coming down a good thing for you? I’m sorry, but I find it hard to believe that your motivations are as pure as freshly fallen snow.” Argent put a mocking hand to his chest and scoffed, his tone haughty and thick with malice. “What do you want, Monster?”
“What I want is to keep the Fire Veil from falling,” he threw out, his voice raising, his wings spreading ominously. His tail lashed violently behind him, and his copper eyes, they slid over to mine. We had so many memories together, so many firsts. Two years of our young lives spent entwined.
Back then, it’d seemed like fate.
Then things had taken a turn for the worse, our relationship had soured seemingly overnight, and Monster had used his magic and his pheromones to roll me under and turn me into a mindless pleasure addict.
I looked away from him, fighting the pain and anger warring for control in my chest.
“I want my father dead,” he continued, and I felt Argent shift slightly. Looking up, I caught the smile on my fae husband’s pretty face.
“And there it is, the truth of the matter. You wish to be king?” Argent queried and Monster smiled again, as if this revelation should’ve been obvious all along. The thing is, while it seemed reasonable, I didn’t buy it. He had never wanted to be king before; what had changed?
Don’t act like you know him, Grace. It’ll only get you into trouble.
I wasn’t sure if I had ever truly known Monster.
“Who wouldn’t wish to be king?” Monster offered up with a loose shrug of his shoulders. “This world is not the only one that connects to Hael. Once I have control of the realm, I can do as I please.” His tail swept across the floor and he turned to pick up his coffee.
It was one of those things that never quite got old, seeing something as big and brooding as Monster sipping coffee in my kitchen. Seeing my werewolf husband shift into wolf form and piss in all the corners of our yard. Watching my vampire husband suck my faerie husband’s blood in the living room before a roaring fire.
So surreal.
Male witches were rare, but both my mother and Calla had managed to find pure-blooded witches to marry. I hadn’t given much thought to the sorts of men I’d have in my life, or how complicated each one of their backgrounds would make what should have been a fairly simple life.
That’s what I’d wanted. Peace and books, tea and cats, an herb garden and children, husbands and sex. That was it. Instead … the Witch Queen. I was pregnant with the Witch Queen? Nobody could possibly know that … could they?
