Page 14 of Burn of Obsidian

Of course fucking not, she wanted to say. Instead, she said in her huskiest tone, “Why, do you like it?”

“Hmm.” He nodded, his gaze barely flicking toward her platinum blonde hair before returning to her boobs.

It wasn’t her favourite colour, and despite it being pretty noticeable, it wasn’t as distinctive as her usual pink, or her natural. She was careful not to be recognised, making sure to rotate through venues as well as hair colours.

It sucked that the charms to change her physical features were so expensive, like selling kidney expensive. And illegal, which was why Roach was hounding her to return the bloody charms she’d borrowed.

Roach:

I need the charms back.

That was Roach’s fifth text in an hour.

“You want another drink?” he asked, not caring for her answer before raising his arm toward the passing bartender. Not that she would drink much of it. But she’d smile, flutter her lashes and thank him just as she had several times that night.

While he was distracted, she quickly replied to the message.

At Nectar. I have them, so will drop after.

Thea appreciated Roach helping her, but she was incredibly possessive when it came to her stuff. Like a dragon hoarding over her gold. If Roach wasn’t getting paid, no way would she have let Thea borrow those charms without a contract written between them in blood.

Roach:

Working?

Always {money bag emoji}

Roach:

Be there soon.

Thea chucked her phone down as soon as Mr Expensive Suit turned back in her direction, drink in hand. The crowd seemed slightly quieter than normal for a Thursday night, the pickings slim. She’d already shared a drink with a guy, and his watch, along with a business card she had no intention of keeping, sat snugly in her clutch bag. She would be lucky to get one or two more after her target before she risked saturating the crowd.

“So, where were we?” he said, his teeth unnaturally straight and white. His chi sparkled slightly, so she pegged him as a mage rather than a witch.

“I don’t know. Where were we?” She crossed her legs, drawing his attention down. “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? Mr…?”

“O’Reilly. Niall O’Reilly. I’m a solicitor for Windsor and Clark. About to become a partner, actually,” he said with an air of smugness. “One of the youngest to achieve the position.”

“Oh, that sounds – ”

“Plus, I’m thinking about taking my golf seriously this year, possibly entering into some tournaments if I have the time.”

Thea hummed her interest. “I used to – ”

“Hey, are you tattooed elsewhere?” he interrupted, eyes tracing the designs spotted on her legs.

Thea cleared her throat. “Maybe.”

“They’re… hot. But they’re not very professional.” He reached forward, placing his palm flat on her right thigh. “Don’t you have problems keeping a job?”

Irritation prickled at her, but she kept herself composed. “Not many places are so small minded that a few pretty pictures inked on my skin would stop my ability to work. And if they believed they would, then they wouldn’t be a place worth working.”

Niall snorted his amusement. “You’d have to cover up if you worked for my firm.”

“Well, good thing I don’t work for your firm.”

“The septum ring would have to go, too.” A smug smile, his fingers beginning to stoke up her thigh. “I’ve never met a faerie with piercings. Aren’t you all allergic to metal?”

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