Page 24 of Monsters' Manor

Glaring at him, I swipe a hand across the back of my forehead to wipe away the sheen of sweat there. “I need a break.”

“You need to summon something more powerful than a lit match.”

The sound that comes out of my mouth is somewhere between a curse and a growl.

“I need abreak.”

“I’m the one who decides when you get a break.”

Motherfuckingdemon.

Maybe it would have been better if he really did bring me down in this cellar to murder me.

Although, ‘cellar’ isn’t really the best word for it. It’s like a whole other world down here beneath the manor.

I barely got to take it all in as I followed Renwick down the steps and lost count of how many levels of winding, twisting corridors we descended. Lit with flaming torches and branching off with hallways whose ends I couldn’t make out in the gloom, the labyrinth stretches far below the manor.

I’m not sure if I’m in awe, or completely creeped out to know this little kingdom of darkness has existed right beneath my feet the entire time I’ve been here.

“It’s carved into the hill,” Renwick had explained. “And serves as Odelia’s base of operations.”

My mind boggled over that for a moment. More details I could be privy to if I decide to stay, an entire world of magick to explore.

As we descended, Renwick gave me a little primer about some of the things that go on down here. Workshops dedicated to constructing the glamours monsters use to move through the world unseen. Assembly rooms where classes on getting jobs and renting apartments and generally navigating the human world are conducted. Offices where the income generated by the Acres and all the witch and monster subsidiary businesses are divided for the benefit of everyone.

A whole community operating efficiently and taking care of each other.

A world I might already be a part of, if circumstances were different.

The room Renwick chose for training is fireproof, just like he said. Stone walls and floors, nothing inside but metal sconces burning on the walls to light the dark, oppressive space enough for us to see each other. Not that I’m really thrilled to see his face right now.

As soon as we started training, Renwick turned into an entirely different demon. Stern. Demanding. Uncompromising. Absolutely not going to settle for any of my bullshit or excuses.

Tragically, it’s a good look on him.

Even with as pissed off as I am, I have to admit there’s something about a bossy, commanding Renwick that’s incredibly attractive.

Well, objectively, I mean. Because I’m far too fucking annoyed to appreciate the harsh beauty in his face when he gives me an order, or the way his unyielding attitude makes me want to fight him even harder, smash up against that arrogance of his again and again until it breaks.

Yeah. Definitely not thinking about any of that.

Not when I can barely get a flame going.

“Again, Rosie.”

“No.”

My flat denial makes his red eyes flare wide and his mouth set into a harsh scowl.

“No?” he asks, striding across the room.

“No,” I say again, ignoring the way my breath catches when he’s close enough to touch.

We stay locked in that stalemate for a few long, weighted moments. I’m sure as hell not going to be the one to break first, and apparently neither is Renwick. We stare each other down, and I pray to any gods who might be listening that he’s not the kind of paranormal creature who can sense things like scent and heart rate, because my pulse ticks up with each passing moment, and I’m sure I reek with nerves.

I don’t want him to know how close I am to snapping right now.

Because even though I’m hardly summoning more than a match’s worth of flame, I can feel all my magick roiling just under my skin.

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