Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
I lifted my eyebrows, and Tristan stepped a bit closer, bristling in reaction to the slight.
The mage flung out his other hand. “N-no, not like that. He isn’t trying to offend you. Honest! He just wants to h-help. To make things clear so you don’t run into any problems with the others. The number of people you’re allowed to b-bring, the acceptable and non-acceptable use of magic and potions, dress code, stuff like th-that. It’s all…in here.”
He pushed the envelope out a little farther.
Tristan’s nightmare magic swirled for a moment as he stepped closer, staring down at the mage. Slowly, deliberately, he took the envelope. The mage cowered a bit lower. He’d probably never want to be a messenger again.
“Tomorrow night?” I asked as Tristan held out the envelope for me, not backing off from the mage.
The poor creature looked up at the big gargoyle-monster, hunched in a stance that reminded me of Edgar, and if not for the turmoil mages in general had caused me, I probably would have called Tristan off. As it was, I looked forward to the messenger trying to relay his terror and his master probably not believing him. It would make for an eventful dinner.
“Tomorrow night is Christmas Eve,” I mused, running my finger over the foil symbol. The image within was some kind of coat of arms, though I couldn’t make out the significance. I’d need to save it in case that was a big mage thing Sebastian hadn’t mentioned. I certainly didn’t have one.
“Arthur assumed you’d want to…alter your plans,” the mage said, scooting a little farther away from Tristan.
They were trying to seem important, he meant. More important than any prior engagements. Then again, maybe this situation was similar to the one with the shifters—they wanted to know who was invading their territory within a certain time period so they could determine if the person was hostile or benign. I’d have to mull all this over.
Which I was about to say when Austin stepped into sight, his arm coming around me, every cut, tense muscle on full display. Power pumped off him in heady waves, raw and intense, full-scale alpha.
The mage let out a strangled sound, clutching his throat.
“You tell Arthur that if I get one whiff of foul play”—Austin growled, and Tristan’s magic also intensified—“or if my mate is in danger in any way, I will rip your spleen out before I ruin his whole world. I have the money, connections, and aggression to shut him out of this town. He’d best ensure this dinner is in good faith.”
The mage’s eyes widened until he looked like a caricature. His magic failed him, showing his age, and his face drained of color.
He didn’t even get a chance to speak before shifters walked up from the sides of the house, moving onto the lawn. Naked, one and all. Strong men and women, tits and balls out, muscles shown off. They made a line beside the walkway, past the gargoyles already standing there. More gargoyles stepped forward from beside the house, suddenly visible. Basajaunak showed themselves around the bushes and trees in the perimeter.
The mage screamed, tried to get around Tristan, and hit the step wrong. He fell, twisting an ankle and crying out again. Once on the walkway, he hobbled toward the curb, limping as fast as he could go. His car was a little down the street, a Jaguar, and the tires screeched as he peeled away.
“That was almost too easy,” Tristan said, watching the scene.
“That’s because of his status and magical level.” Austin gently pulled me back from the door. “You know firsthand how dangerous mages can get.”
“Dangerous from a distance.” Tristan followed us in, and Broken Sue came in after him. “They clearly don’t deal well with unbridled hostility in close proximity.”
Austin caught a pair of sweats that Broken Sue lobbed at him and then stepped into them. “At the moment, no.” He shook his head slowly, lowering into one of the overstuffed couches in the large living room that attached to the kitchen. “I wonder, though. Momar was incredibly prepared at Kingsley’s. He left virtually nothing to chance. If he hadn’t underestimated our magical power and the lengths our people would go in order to save our own, he would’ve destroyed my brother’s pack. I think we should expect these mages—the high-level ones—to learn quickly and seek to cut out our advantage as fast as possible. This is just a gut feeling, but I think we need to lean on our robust viciousness and primal power right now, and when they adjust, so do we. We disarm them by shifting to a more polished look. A housebroken look.”
“And that’s when we show them we’ve been playing their game all along,” Tristan said, nodding as he stared off into space. “Niamh and I need to make some trips after the holidays. There are some people I need to reconnect with, and she thinks she has a line on a few of her old cohorts, whatever that means. We’ll both work some new connections we’ve made in our research. We have the ability to establish a much more robust network than the shadowy world of mages is capable of. They might as well be sleeping with a nightlight compared to a few of the players we can bring to the table.”