Page 110 of Tail, Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates
“No, you do not.”
“I fucking well do now. Do you really want to talk about that or do you want to help me trash Chase’s stuff?”
He sank a claw into the fabric shade of the desk lamp and dragged it down, letting that act give his answer.
A delighted laugh tore its way free from Marigold. A sweep of her arm and she knocked off all the items on the desk. She opened drawers and dumped out the contents onto the floor. From the pile of loose papers, pens, notepads, clips, and everything else that an office supply store might sell, she fished out a pair of scissors.
Which she promptly sank into the very expensive designer chair.
Winter reclined on the sofa, watching his mate as she pulled down entire shelves of books. He poured himself a glass of very fine Tal liquor while he enjoyed the show. Every useless decorative thing was thrown to the floor. Sometimes she’d hold up an item and ask him its value.
“That is a limited edition, I believe,” he said.
Smash.
She held up a colorful vase, asking wordlessly. “He purchased that at an auction. He did not desire it but kept bidding to drive up the price,” he answered.
Smash.
Imported art pieces from Talmar, more expensive than in good taste, fell to her anger. Winter helpfully directed his mate’s fury, citing how much he believed Chase spent. It was a marvelous game.
She stood in the center of her wreckage, having tipped over and shattered every reaching item. Her chest heaved from exertion.
“Have you finished?”
“No, and your cousin is a real dick,” she said. Her eyes darted about the room, searching for a new target. She grabbed the scissors and stalked toward the drapes. Roughly, she jabbed the scissors into the fabric and pulled down, but she lacked the strength to rip through the thick fabric.
“Help me,” she said.
“I’m rather enjoying the view.” He took a sip of the amber-colored liquid, enjoying the way the warmth spread down his throat. Chase was an arrogant, manipulative bastard, but he had good taste in booze.
Giving a frustrated cry, Marigold yanked, and the rod popped free on one side. Slowly, fabric slid down the pole until it collapsed to the floor.
“I should have known he was up to something,” she said. “He was poking around the garage, looking for acenterpiece.”
“Yes.” Winter remembered.
“Tomas…” Her voice drifted into a whisper.
Winter leaned forward, elbows on his knees and the glass dangling in one hand. “What about him?”
“Are you upset?” she asked.
Winter leaned back and emptied the glass. He thought about a refill but declined, knowing that the headline tomorrow would tout his alcohol-fueled rampage.
“I am upset that he upset you. Do you require more items to break? I dislike the holiday foliage. It smells. We can gather it up and make a bonfire.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I like your enthusiasm for arson, but hard pass. It’s too risky.”
Yes, his mate was a good person. Even in a fit of rage, she still thought of the safety of others.
“Come to me,” he said, holding out a hand.
Chapter 25
Six months and fans demand answers. How long can Winter Cayne evade the law? The so-called “inquest” was a mockery of justice. Why has no one asked Thankful Cayne about the witnesses he paid off to silence? Or the evidence he buried? Why is no one willing to say what we’re all thinking? Winter Cayne hated his mate and would have done anything to be rid of her…
-Message on Rebel’s Star forum
