Kiss of Frost (The Dragon Stone Saga Book 1)(30)
The twisted lips and scrunched eyes on the elves stop Doyle and Kirin short.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I scowl. “Yes, they’re half goblin, but they did your asses a favor retrieving this psycho you couldn’t control. So suck up your prejudices and accept what they have to give you.”
Growing up, MECA taught me that elves have a bit of a superiority complex. MECA seems a bit biased against full-blooded goblins and elves though, as the leath cine had been thrown from their home realms and sentenced to live amongst the humans in their realm. Luckily, the full-blooded Fae I know and consider allies don’t seem to care that I’m a leath cine. In fact, they appreciate my status because I can cut through the red tape and go places they can’t without violating treaty laws and land boundaries. I tend to collect lost things or people, trying to help them heal. I know I can’t save everyone, but I try my hardest nonetheless. I just can’t seem to take my own advice and work through my issues with my mother.
“Or we can just let him go and he becomes your problem.” I cock my head to the side.
At their continued stare, I shrug and raise my hand to give the signal to let the rogue elf loose. I hold my hand at my neck, one finger about to draw a line in the air across it. Doyle and Kirin both play their parts. Kirin grabs the prisoner’s shackled hands in his own and Doyle pats his pockets with exaggerated movements as he searches for the keys. Either way, we’ve done our jobs. The elf is back on Light Elven territory.
“W-Wait! Okay fine. Hand him over,” The tallest of the elves shouts begrudgingly. His lips press together after his outburst.
Not the most humble bunch I’ve ever come across.
“Your payment for bringing him back to us will be delivered to the MECA compound. Safe travels,” The elves add with a pointed stare that indicates we are free to go. They turn their backs to us.
Kirin and Doyle spin around, and their heavy footsteps crunch through the hard dirt.
Catching up with them, almost skipping in glee, I link my arms through each of theirs. “Let’s party!”
Chapter Two
Boom. Boom. Boom.
I startle awake, hands instantly cradling my pounding head. My heart is beating fast from jerking up in bed, the soft sheets pooling at my waist. Goddess, how much did I drink last night?
Who or what do I have to kill to make the noise stop? I am not in the house my crew and I share. I’m in one of the spare rooms at the MECA compound usually used for visiting guard members from around the world or those waiting to get their bunk assignments with their new roommates.
Well, shit.
Some asshole has a death wish this morning. I stumble toward the door, my legs a bit unsteady, ready to knock whomever it is into next week.
“I swear to God if that’s you Doyle, I will castr—”
The door swings open, revealing my mother, and I drop my arm to my side.
“Uh, Mother. Isn’t this a surprise? Come on in.” I make a grand sweeping gesture with my arm. I bend at the waist and smirk at the pursing of her thin lips. I wonder if the unmade bed and the sight of my clothes scattered haphazardly on the floor is the cause of her visible cringe. Shrugging, I can’t bring myself to care about the appearance of the room right now. Each ray of sunlight filtering through the windows is like a shard of glass to my eyeballs.
Scratching my head, I follow her gaze. I don’t even remember getting here last night. I’m still wearing my black lace panties, my bra is off, and I’m in a shirt way too big for me. Must be Doyle’s. Perv. He must have gotten me into bed last night. I chuckle softly. He would never think of me that way.
Shutting the door and turning to face my Mother full on, I brace myself for what is sure to be a migraine-inducing morning. Most of our correspondence is via phone or letter, since she can’t be bothered to take time from her busy court schedule of teas and cross-stitching to see me.
She has visited this place a total of three times, even though I had invited her to countless events as I grew up. Once when she dropped me off as a year-old baby, another time at age five to inform me she wouldn’t be seeing me again until I graduated, and the final time was ten days after I completed my training as a MECA guard. She keeps in touch with letters, but most of the time I don’t respond. She let slip once that her maids read her letters and let her know what is important, so I don’t see the point. Her ramblings about herself and her prattling on about court and all that frilly bullshit doesn’t concern me and only makes me feel even more distant from her than I already am. I want to talk with her, not listen to her talk.
“I’ve been trying to reach you, Ever.” She looks down her pert nose at me from her taller height.
She’s always uses my full name even though I prefer my nickname, Ev. I’ll never tell her for fear of her not using my name at all, but I like that she refuses to use my nickname, like my real name is special in some way to her.
“Why?” Shit must be hitting the fan for her to willingly taking time out of her busy schedule to speak with me in person.
She wrings her hands. Interesting. She’s nervous about telling me something, and she can’t lie. Little drawback—Fae can’t lie, but man, do they know how to play on words. I wonder if something has happened with my Uncle Caddox or one of my many aunts.
“I need to speak with you. It is something of utmost importance.” She pulls at her flowing skirt.