Evie


    Evie wasn’t certain if she should be ttered or mortified at the speed with which the party guests filtered out of the room.


    At the prospect of a night alone with The Wicked Woman.


    A night alone with her.


    Her boss, on the other hand, hadn’t moved an inch. Just stared at her so expressionlessly that a bystander could’ve mistaken him for a statue. In her peripherals, she could see Tatianna dragging re from the room, muttering something about finding Kingsley before Trystan lost what was left of his sanity.


    “Sir?” Evie asked, feeling ridiculous, still standing atop the table. He said nothing, just walked toward her, cing his hands on either side of her hips, making her exhale as he slowly lowered her to the floor. He kept his hands there even after her feet touched the ground, but he wasn’t looking at her.


    It was unsettling, and not in the enjoyable way.


    “Sir? Won’t you say something?”


    “I’m thinking,” he rumbled, still not looking at her.


    “Oh. That’s good. Thinking is good.” She nodded, and the movement shifted her body enough for her boss to realize his hands were still on her. He released her with a rather offensive repulsed sound as he nted a hand on his hip and another to lean against the table away from her.


    “No, it’s not. I’m having difficulty doing it,” he sighed.


    She scrunched her nose and mustered every ounce of sympathy she could scrounge up. “Is it because of the horns?”


    He turned so fast she stumbled backward. His eyes were wild and unmoored, and Evie realized her error far toote. The man was far past humor—he’d ventured into double-forehead-vein territory. She’d only seen that one other time, and it was on intern orientation day.


    She thought it was funny then. It did not seem funny now.


    “No, you harbinger of chaos, it’s you!” He ripped both horns from his head and dropped them to the ground. Evie was tempted to tell him that his hair was now sticking up in two very specific spots, but she didn’t think this was a pretty-enough room to die in. “What are you going to do if one of the guests finds Kingsley? What are you going to do when theye to collect on their prize?” Thest word came out sarcastically.


    She felt insulted.


    And Evie never made good choices when she felt insulted.


    She poked a finger into his chest and red. “I’ll have you know a night with me would be a prize. I am an absolute delight in the bedchamber, thank you! I’m attentive and fun, damn it!”


    Don’t brag about your sexual prowess to your boss, Evie!


    Even if that look on his face is the funniest thing you’ve ever seen in your life!


    There was no way he would ever be able to replicate the expression. It was the kind you only made under one specific circumstance and then never again. His eyes were wide, his mouth open, but in a half-curved way that was most definitely not a smile but was too crooked to be a frown.


    He ran a hand through his hair, making the rest of it stand on end along with the two sides left sticking up from the horns. He looked a little like he’d just been shocked by some form of electricity. A horrific shock that went by the name of Evie Sage.


    “Is this how it’s to be done?” he said to no one in particr. He wasn’t looking at her. “Is this my downfall?” His face was no longer in that funny expression, but it was incredulous. That much, Evie could identify. “Death by sexual frustration?”


    “I make you sexually…frustrated?”


    “No,” he said resolutely, and she felt her heart drop. Oh, it was just the normal physical reactions all human beings had when speaking of intimate rtions. She only wanted to crawl in a deep, dark hole in the ground a very little bit.


    Okay, she wanted to be buried in one, but there was only so much embarrassment the human body could manage before it internallybusted. “Oh. Well…if someone finds Kingsley, let’s hope it’s my new friend Dax. I’m sure we’d share a pleasurable evening together.” She was joking, trying to lighten the mood, but ironically she felt like a storm cloud had descended over Trystan’s head. She tried again. “It’s been a while, you know?” She gently punched his arm in camaraderie.


    She only made it worse.


    He breathed out slowly, closing his eyes for a moment, before opening them to an rmingly nk expression as he stormed to the door, flipping random chairs as he moved, mumbling expletives under his breath with each step. Ones Evie had never even heard before.


    “Sir? Where are you going?”


    “To find the fucking frog before one of those louts does.”


    “O-Oh,” Evie sputtered after him, following him into the hall and then grabbing his arm as the gray mist spilled out of him inrge waves of darkness, rolling through every corner of the mansion. “Sir? Are you losing control again?” she asked, watching it travel up the stairs, peeking into every room it could.


    He turned and smiled, looking for the first time, to her, truly like a viin. And it was…well, it was quite honestly very attractive, but she didn’t want to say that aloud while waves of death magic were swirling around so menacingly.


    A wild light in his eyes had him turning on his heel and stalking down the halls. “This way. I can sense the little bugger this way.” The corridor was barely lit as Evie followed him, about to ask if he wanted her to light a candle. Knowing how fearful he was of the dark.


    But he didn’t pause, didn’t falter, just continued as if they were walking through Hickory Forest on the sunniest of days. She didn’t feel inclined to remind him of the darkness if he seemed determined to forget it was even there. “When he’s found, you’re not going to hurt anyone…are you?” she asked, more curious than concerned.


    “That depends,” he said, turning down another corridor with long strides that Evie struggled to keep up with.


    “On what?” she asked, huffing and puffing with each step.


    “On who finds him.” Trystan rounded another corner, and Evie was nearly running now to keep up.


    She bent at the hips and ced her hands on her knees, rasping out, “Can you please have mercy on the parties with much shorter legs than yours?” She took a fortifying breath and then yelped in outrage as she was thrown over Trystan’s shoulder and dragged down the hall, his magic dancing along behind them.


    “Oh, you think this is funny?” she grumbled, flicking the dark mist as it came closer to her, and Trystan gripped her legs tighter.


    “Stop squirming.”


    “You’re carrying me like I’m a sack of potatoes.”


    “Everyone likes potatoes,” he responded tly as he turned down another hall and they entered a very dark library lit only by moonlight pouring through the balcony doors and open windows.


    “To eat! Not to be transported as!” She beat against his back, resenting the red cape he still wore for obstructing her view of his perfect backside.


    Unlucky me.


    “Put me down!” she yelled, continuing to il, and finally he did drop her on her toes, a light glinting in his eyes. A cool breeze from the open windows tickled her bare arms. A decision passed over him as he snapped to action, untying the red cloak from around his chest and draping it over her shoulders.


    Not looking at her as he tied the knot, he nodded in satisfaction when the goose bumps forming from the bite of wind were covered. And then he was back on his tear, like the moment had never urred.


    “Here!” He stormed toward the balcony doors, mming them open and edging to the side where one of the tree’s branches jutted so far over the edge, it waspletely out of reach. “Prophecy be damned, I’m making frog soup tonight,” he growled.


    And that’s when Evie finally spied Kingsley.


    Sitting atop the branch, inches from falling.


    To his death.