Then, the fire returns. The inferno I’ve grown accustomed to—the one that usually comes with insults or blades—is back.
Her hands shoot up, shoving mine away. “What the fuck! Why are you in my room?” she snaps, her voice sharp enough to cutsteel. It’s not really a question. She’s demanding an explanation, as if I need one.
I roll my eyes. “Can younotscream? I can hear you just fine, thanks.”
I gesture lazily to an imp dangling from her curtain rod. Its tiny claws dig into the fabric like it owns the place. “Is this a habit of yours when you sleep? Summoning chaos? Let me guess: a nightmare where you’re forced to live among the mortals? Sorry…vermin, right?”
I sigh heavily, long and theatrical.
Her eyes narrow and glow. Suddenly, the room shifts. The imps all stop. One by one, they turn. Their beady eyes fix on me. Then they leap with claws bared, teeth exposed. Shadows snarl through the air as they vault from the walls and furniture like rabid beasts.
“Seriously?”
I’m too goddamn tired for one of her little temper tantrums.
I raise my hand, palm up, fingers unfurling slow and deliberately—just so she can see what’s coming.
The imps close in, but before they can reach me, my hand slips from the back of her neck…to her throat.
My fingers wrap fully around it—the column of her neck bared and delicate beneath my palm. She doesn’t flinch. Of course she doesn’t. The mask is back in place.
“Do you like these little imps?” I murmur, voice low, dangerous. A smirk pulls at the corner of my lips. “I know you care. You pretend you don’t, but you do. They’re yours, just like that cursed familiar of yours.”
My magic stirs.
I reach, feeling along the threads of shadow that animate her imps. They pulse with her essence—a part of her in every one.
The first Imp lunges at me, teeth bared and ready to sink into my shoulder. I close my hand, and they freeze all at once.
Then the shrieking starts: high, sharp cries that echo off the walls as I twist their insides. They drop, convulsing midair, and their small forms writhe as if torn from the inside out.
Millicent’s eyes flick to the closest one, crumpled on the bed. It gasps, barely alive and twitching.
She winces.
“Stop,” she demands, her voice sharper now.
“Your wish is my command.” My voice is dipped in venom.
My magic surges. A pulse of energy ripples from my hand, and every imp disintegrates in unison. Their bodies collapse into murky shadows, snuffed out of existence until nothing remains.
Gone.
The room stills.
The shadows obey me just as easily as they obey her—something she seems to forget far too often.
“As satisfying as that was,” I continue, a slow smirk spreading, “I’m exhausted. And I’d rather not spend the night cleaning up after your emotional mess. So, try keeping magic in check, yeah?”
“Youwillinglycame into my room just to clean up my mess?” she snaps, throwing my own words back at me.
I laugh dryly. “Believe me, I don’twantto be in here. It’s my job to keep things in order.”
I yank my hand from her neck. The sudden absence sends her tumbling backward onto the bed.
I stand.
“I would rather swallow glass than ever be in your room—or your bed—outside of duty.”
