Page 81 of Malicent
“Oliver, no humping,” I snap, earning a huff and an indignant scowl.
“Oliver, this is Iris. Iris, meet Oliver, my familiar.”
Iris giggles. “He is socute! That’s amazing. I wish necromancers got familiars. We have to make our own.” She crouches and extends a hand. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
Oliver flushes pink all over, flattered by her compliment.
His chubby, clawed hand grabs her finger and gives it a formal shake.
“Ollie to friends!”
“Ollie it is, then, as we must be friends.”
He blinks up at me, surprised. “Me Misses made friend?”
“Yes, Oliver. Don’t look so damn shocked.”
The annoyance in my voice masks something deeper.
I do want connections…sometimes. It’s just hard for me. I’m not allowed. Connection means caring. Caring means weakness. And weakness invites pain.
My magic doesn’t respond well to such things. It’s better for everyone if I don’t let anyone close enough to hurt me. If they did, the loss of control would lead to bloodshed—that is, when I rip their heads from their bodies.
Arcadia slipped into my heart when I was still too young to build walls. She fought to stay there. She always does.
Oliver plants his hands on his hips, sass radiating from every inch of him.
“Well, sorry that Me Misses never goes to parties, and we sit alone in room all the time.”
“Oliver, shut it,” I snap.
Iris’s laughter bubbles up again, encouraging him further.
“Me Misses has also felt aroused while here.” He smirks like the little hellion he is. The bond between us leaves little room for secrets.
Iris’s eyes shoot at me, mouth parting with a question.
“Ollie, I am not giving you any more wine!” I bark, cutting her off. I yank on our bond, tightening his leash to lock those damn lips. The last thing I desire is Oliver divulging every emotion he feels from me because he wants to make a pretty girl laugh in hopes of being allowed to hump her leg.
Manipulative thing.
Oliver closes an imaginary zipper over his lips and hums innocently.
“Are we having wine already? And I wasn’t invited? That’srude, Millie.”
Kalix’s voice draws our attention as he strolls down the hall toward us, towel in hand, wiping sweat from his face and chest.
Up close, I catch new details: small, pale scars scattered across his torso, the kind earned in combat, as well as one particularly nasty animal bite marring his bicep.
Iris straightens with a grin. “This is Millicent’s familiar, Oliver!”
“We’ve met. What's up, little guy?” Kalix waves at Ollie but walks straight to Iris. He slips his arms around her waist, tugging her close to his chest.
“You’re covered in sweat!” she whines, pushing against his bare chest.
He chuckles. “You love it. Besides—” He leans down and whispers something in her ear that makes her cheeks flush scarlet.
Oliver tilts his head, confused. “Me Misses…how will he fit inside her?”
