Page 27 of Wrongfully Magicked
She almost broke him with her words, but less than an hour later, when I thought we might have lost him to the system forever, she miraculously fixed him.
In fact, I’ve never seen him so alive and animated.
Even Cass, the biggest asshole of our group, who never let anyone close, is unable to stop glancing over his shoulder tocheck out the little waif. My shadows listen almost obsessively to their whispered conversations. Her complete lack of fear is throwing him off. A slow hiss, like air escaping a tire, vibrates from him like he and his basilisk are arguing.
What’s worse, the girl isn’t wrong.
Cass went through some shit when he first ascended into his beastling form. It fucked him up, and he never got over it.
As much as I want to comment on what the girl said, I keep my mouth firmly shut. Cass doesn’t know how to handle someone who calls him on his shit. While he might allow Anita to get away with it out of fear of hurting her, the basilisk won’t hesitate to beat my ass for shoving my nose in his business.
I wouldn’t blame him.
We work as a group because none of us push the others past our boundaries. As long as everyone keeps their shit locked down, I keep my mouth shut.
I’m not saying it’s healthy, but it works.
Now, the little slip of a girl is poking holes in our armor at the worst possible time. While MID might seem like they are the law, it’s just as corrupt as any government institute. If they get their claws into her, they’ll never let her go.
It’s how we ended up in their clutches.
Each of us is powerful in our own right, which drew their illustrious attention in the first place. When we not so politely refused their generous offer to join their ranks, they manufactured crimes that we allegedly committed—or not so allegedly, depending on who you ask. We faced the choice of joining them and working off our sentence or experiencing an all-inclusive lifetime stay in their renowned detention center—a place where they would bind our powers and leave us to die a slow death.
No one ever comes back from MDC.
If I’m right, they were going to do the very same thing to Anita—until her family name was discovered. MID won’t take her disappearance lightly, and they won’t let her go without a fight. It’s only a matter of time before the director connects our disappearance to when Anita vanished and puts two and two together.
I give us two hours tops before they put out a warrant for our arrest, and then bounty hunters will be on our asses. Also, because fate has never been on our side, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that they’ll want us more dead than alive.
We’re fucking screwed.
ANITA
Sunlight warms my face, rousing me from my first good slumber in what feels like ages. I curl toward the delicious heat to my right, the scent of sulfur and flowers teasing my nose, and I snuggle closer with a contented sigh.
A slight rumble vibrates under my chest, almost like a purr. My body tightens with lust, the need to rub up against the source of that smell almost irresistible, and I clench my legs together to stop the ache.
Then reality kicks me in the lady balls, and my fantasies slowly dissolve.
I’m not at home, alone in bed.
Air saws in and out of my lungs as panic threatens to overwhelm me. My control is hanging on by a thread as delicate as an arachne’s web, and my whole body heats with the need to light up the fucker who thought to take advantage of me while I slept.
Before I have a chance to put my thoughts into action, though, arms wrap around me, and I’m pulled against a wide chest. A face nuzzles the top of my head almost affectionately and…someone sniffs me?
That sparks a memory, and the events of the previous day slam into me like a sledgehammer—being blown up, then getting arrested.
The images of four sexy men who have invaded my life flash through my mind in vivid detail.
Tall.
Muscular.
Sexy as sin.
And deadly as fuck.
Despite the guys’ rough edges and asshole behavior, I find their gruffness charming.
