By Fairy Means or Foul: A Starfig Investigations Novel(53)

“Go back to your wizard.” The giant scooped up the cup and turned his back. “Krofom said you is itching for a fight. Better to do it with yours.”

“Where is that fucking cyclops anyway? I’ve got a bone to pick with him.”

“He ain’t here.” The giant tapped his head. “Too smart, that one.”

In other words, he saw what I’d do to him if I found him. That bastard probably knew all along we’d survive and I’d become Quinn’s familiar. Cyclopes weren’t able to tell the future to others—not directly. Hence the effing riddles. One I would never have figured out. But Quinn did.

And as grateful as I was that he had figured it out at the time, it didn’t make my sense of panic lessen now. Maybe that’s what Krofom meant by ‘a flame’s rebirth scorches both those it attacks, and those who wield it.’ We took care of the zombies, but at the cost of our freedom. I could almost feel the invisible bars caging me in. And wasn’t that ironic? Just a few short hours ago, I felt more free in my dragon form than I ever imagined possible. An illusion. I could shift, but I might as well step into a cage and lock myself inside.

The kicker? The more angry and resentful I became, the more I felt Quinn's pain and anxiety in my chest as if it were my own. Over time, would I even know the difference?

Perhaps I should have mated him. At least then I would hold some of the power. Quinn could be my little pet too. At least in theory. There weren’t all that many mated pairs in recent history. Not sure why. There’d been none in my clan and only one in another clan that I knew about.

The more I thought, the more convinced I became I should have mated Quinn when I’d had the chance. My dragon rumbled in agreement.

Was there any reason I couldn’t still do so?

It would definitely even out the shift in power between us. Might even give me the upper hand.

It would also tie us together irrevocably. No possibility of breaking that bond, except through death. Something I didn’t want.

Right?

My dragon huffed. I could envision it turning its back on me.

Well, I wasn’t just dragon, and instinct or no, I was also fairy. And this fairy definitely didn’t want to be saddled with a mate. Or anyone for that matter. I didn’t even like having Quinn’s contract temporarily. Could I imagine being his lord and master for the next several centuries?

An image of him naked and squirming in my bed flashed through my head. I groaned. So unfair. My dragon fought dirty. I could almost hear the bastard chuckle.

So there’d be some perks. Big deal. No, this was too complicated. Too effed up. I didn’t want a mate.

Another image shoved its way into my consciousness. This one not so pleasant. Brandsome holding Quinn down as he . . . whoa, I didn’t need that visual. It enraged both my dragon and fairy side. Quinn was mine.

I must have bared my teeth because the bartender’s round face split into a big, goofy grin, his three teeth visible.

“Should go talk to that wizard of yours. Will make you feel better, I knows it.” He wiped a sopping cloth over the countertop. “Love ain’t easy.”

I snorted. I didn’t love Quinn. Not exactly. Lust, of course. Wanted to own him, sure. As long as he didn’t cramp my independence. And yeah, I knew how screwed up it sounded. I scrubbed at my face.

Quinn’s pull wrapped around me like a siren’s song. I could resist it, sure. Made me unhappy and miserable, but I could do it. At least so far. I didn’t know if it would get worse the farther away from him I moved. Between the images of naked Quinn my dragon seemed content to torture me with, and the sadness and longing I sensed in Quinn, I was going crazy.

Maybe I should make him pay for all he’d done. Show him what it was like to belong to me. Renegotiate how things were going to be between us. My dragon and fairy sides both approved of that plan. I wouldn’t even need to mate him. I held his contract, after all. He technically belonged to me and I could do just about anything I wanted with him. If I invoked the anti-resistor clause, he’d be compelled to do my bidding. The rage coursing through my veins made taking Quinn in hand—before he got ideas of his own—seem like a fantastic option.

Leaving some coin on the counter, I hopped off the stool and strode up the stairs to our room. I paused outside the door when I heard Quinn’s telltale humming. My dragon wanted to join his song. Well, fuck that. I wasn’t feeling sorry for him.

Instead of knocking, I threw the door open and it crashed against the wall.

Quinn uttered a muffled curse and hopped up from the sofa where I’d left him. He’d automatically assumed a fighter’s stance and though impressed with his fearlessness, the position served a direct challenge to my dragon. I slammed the door behind me, then threw the deadbolt.

Quinn watched me, his gaze wary, his posture frozen.

I licked my lips. His eyes followed the movement. Gotcha.

I swaggered toward him, letting my anger lead. He didn’t run. More fool him. Closing in, I yanked him to my chest. He crashed into me, unresisting.

“You’re drunk,” he muttered, his words muffled against my chest.

“Hardly. Can’t get anything stronger than a breakfast blend.”

He sighed. “So you’re just pissed off at me then. Great.”

“It is great, Quinn. Really great. Because I chose it. Not you.” I moved us back toward the bed, but he didn’t even put up any resistance.