37

Violet Miller and the Master of Doom

Violet felt her body trying to faint, her mind sinking into darkness, her lashes fluttering, her limbs turning slack. The dizziness was all consuming as she was sped around and around the city, never stopping, her feet never catching on solid ground. The only thing solid around her was Luc’s grip.

It went on for hours—it must have. She thought she would die like this, as a mere vapour in the wind.

Until she struck a wall of stone.

That was what it felt like when an extra set of hands showed up and Luc’s grip was torn off. There was a struggle; Violet felt it past her bobbing head. And then her cheek came against a warm chest, and she was charged out of the speeding wind.

No… she was falling.

Violet snapped out of her dizziness as she sped downward. She shrieked and clung to her captor’s fluttering shirt. He turned their bodies and wrapped his arm around her just as they slammed through a roof, his back shattering the wood and shingles.

They fell through the building and crashed into a floor, making the whole structure shudder. Cracks burst in every direction, and the floor nearly caved in. The only thing that wasn’t broken was Violet.

Violet’s heart pounded as she looked at the person beneath her whose shirt she gripped for dear life. Her pulse skipped a beat or two. Or seven.

Dust and wood chips were tangled into Mor’s hair. He stared back at her for a moment. Then he slid his arm around her waist and rolled her over. She found herself beneath him, eyes widening when she noticed chunks of beam and brick detaching from the roof above—they plummeted down. She yelped as the debris smashed over Mor’s back, his body tense while wreckage tumbled off both sides.

Their eyes met.

Violet felt like there were things she needed to say. But mostly…

“I miss Shayne,” she croaked. She felt horrid for saying it, but elated, too. She hadn’t even thought of Shayne since Mor had caught her, but now that she’d said the white-haired fairy’s name aloud, she couldn’t get him off her mind.

Mor blinked, his eyes squinting as he looked at her in question. He glanced at her mouth.

“Mor, I miss him so much my head hurts. Where is Shay—”

Mor brought his lips to hers, silencing her and filling her with a slow warmth. It trickled all through her chest, into her abdomen and down her limbs. It sent sparks into her brain, making her feel alive, and wild, and nervous all at once. She was sure this wasn’t real. Her hands found his cheeks, drifting around to clasp behind the back of his neck. She pulled him in closer and he relaxed against her, crushing her beneath him enough to feel like a shield without cutting off her air. A tear rolled down her face, one lonesome, treacherous one.

What was so remarkable about Shayne anyway, apart from his delightful smile, handsome face, and witty personality? Sure, maybe he was a catch in some people’s eyes for all those somewhat compelling reasons, but Violet had never been more sure that he was wrong for her. In this moment, she was absolutely consumed by the fairy above her.

Someone nearby cleared their throat.

Violet stopped her kissing.

Mor didn’t.

He ignored the bystander and slid his dust covered hand into Violet’s splayed hair, brushing away her tear with his thumb as he did.

The person cleared their throat again. Then someone else did it, too.

Two bystanders, then.

“Excuse me, boss?” one of them squeaked from a dry throat.

Mor did stop then. It seemed to take him a moment to figure out who was talking to him as he held tight to Violet, his mouth barely off hers. He finally lifted his head and glanced over, so Violet did, too. And she realized, for the first time, that they were in the cathedral.

The broken-roofed, woodchip-covered, dirty-all-over-again cathedral.

Remi and Jase stood on the stairs, both pale and round-eyed. Remi held tightly to a frying pan like she’d been preparing to use it as either a shield or a weapon.

“Ah, right. Them,” Mor murmured, more to himself. He eyed Remi’s frying pan. “Don’t even think about trying to hit someone with that, Human. Trust me; it hurts.”

When he spoke, Violet pulled her gaze back to him, noticing how he glowed like the morning sun, and sounded like a smooth-running river when he talked, and—

“Don’t mind Violet for the next few minutes. She’s going to act strange,” Mor added as a warning to the interns.

He climbed to his feet, pulling Violet up with him. Then he winced and released a moan as he stretched his back and neck. He reached over to his opposite shoulder and seemed to snap a bone back in place—Violet shrieked.

Jase fainted.

It was only then that Violet noticed Mor’s hands were covered in dried blood, his t-shirt was sliced in five places, and there were gaping wounds over his abdomen, knees, and arms. The sight must have made her eyes wide and wild because from the stairs, Jase asked as he came to, “W… What’s wrong with her?” The intern’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Violet was baffled he didn’t ask why she and Mor had just come plummeting in through the ceiling. There was no elephant in this room—just an elephant-sized mound of roof debris and weirdness.

Mor scratched the back of his head. “It’s going to seem like she likes me, a lot. It may get a little unbearable for you to watch to be faeborn honest,” he told Jase. “Normally when this happens to a fairy, we lock him in a closet for a while, but it seems cruel to do that to a human, so…”

“Mor,” Violet stopped him. Mor glanced back at her. There was a strange look on his face, like he was trying to figure out what was compelling her to speak. There was also something else though—worry. Hesitation. Something that looked like fear. “I’m totally clear-headed,” she stated. “I was kissed enough times to have caught on that my mind was being yanked around whenever it happened. I know I’m the victim of some sort of creepy kiss potion you all must have drunk today!”

Mor chewed on the inside of his cheek. It seemed like he was waiting for something.

“Should we leave?” Remi asked, clutching the frying pan to herself. “This seems like the sort of situation where we should leave—”

“I don’t like you anymore, Mor,” Violet stated, and her heart thundered. Every inch of her wanted to run to him, to clasp him, to beg him to never leave her side again, but those feelings weren’t real. The muscles in her face twitched. She tore her gaze away so she wouldn’t look at him, because something about the expression on his face screamed at her with the most compelling argument she’d ever battled. She clenched her hands into fists hard enough to make them shake. But she refused to reach for him or to acknowledge him ever again.

She didn’t love him. She had to coach herself every second so she wouldn’t blurt in his face that she could hardly breathe while standing this far away from him.

“You look astoundingly uncomfortable,” Mor remarked, and Violet spun on him.

“Fine!” she shouted. “I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you, Mor! You big, stupid fairy! I can’t even think straight right now!”

From the stairs, Jase paled again, but Remi snorted an unexpected laugh. “Yikes,” she muttered.

Mor bit his lips together as Violet approached him. Even through the tangle of heart-pounding, fluffy emotions, she was still angry. “You left me!” she shouted, pointing at him.

He said nothing but his brown eyes flickered with guilt.

“I really wish…” Her voice turned dry. She dropped her hand back to her side. “I really wish I could hate you right now.” Her eyes wetted with tears. “But all I want to do is ask you if you’re okay, and brush the dirt out of your hair, and thank you for saving me, and bake you muffins for the rest of eternity!” She shouted the last part, turning on her heel and storming through the wood planks on the floor toward the kitchen.

Her chest pounded as she marched in and began throwing cupboards open to search for the measuring cups.