Page 86 of Venomous Lies
“Of course you don’t.” He sneered, leaning back in his chair. “But you do understand how to sit down, I presume?”
“No shit,” I snapped back. “But I think there’s a bigger issue at hand, like whatever the fuck is going on outside.”
I waved back toward the door I’d walked into only to find it gone.
Thatcher laughed, the sound so grating I flinched and cursed myself for the reaction.What the actual hell is going on right now?
“It’s better if you leave some of the big things to the adults, witch. You won’t need to worry about any of that anymore.”
‘Beastie, there’s something more going on. We need to figure out what. He wants something from you. Ask him about that.’
“You said you wanted something from me.” I tilted my chin up in challenge. “What is it?”
“Sit. Down.”
I sniffed, pissed off at how he was talking to me but resigned to the fact that I would have to play along for now. Moving slowly as my last sign of protest, I finally settled down into the seat across from him.
I shifted around, trying to get comfortable, but any sense of bravado I might have summoned was gone when I looked over.
There was someone else in the room.
My lips parted at the sight of him.
Straight white-blond hair fell around him, and his gray eyes, the color so light they almost blended into the whites of his eyes, stared straight at me.
The mystery man’s aura was scarier than Thatcher could ever even dream of being. It felt like I was prey caught in a beautiful spider web and the only way I’d escape is if he allowed it.
All of that paled in comparison to the most glaring part of his appearance.
Half of his face had no skin.
There was just bone.
Instead of muscle, there were what appeared to be some kind of threads holding things together.
He smiled, showing off the second half of his teeth, as I couldn’t help but stare at him.
‘Cas,’I whispered.‘What is…?’
‘I don’t know. He’s fae though.’
‘I can sense that, but…’
‘Just this once, let’s focus on the task at hand. Questions after we survive getting out of here.’
I swallowed hard and forced myself to look back at Thatcher. A haughty expression on his face, he was watching me.
“We all have our beasts, don’t we, Isla?” He gestured at the fae, who was staring at the necromancer with silent malice. “Some are just more effective than others,” he preened.
“I don’t have a beast,” I protested, and he shot me a mocking frown.
“Bone fae are some of the most feral of animals.”
“He’s fae, not feral! And the last thing I would considerhim to be is a fucking beast,” I protested. “You’d think you would have some competency when it comes to different supernaturals.”
The man in the corner shifted his focus to me, and I fought not to shiver beneath the weight of his attention.
He tsked and sighed as if disappointed. “Miss Hallowes, just because he is mated to you doesn’t make him more than what is.”
