#FridayFreebie

A coming soon excerpt from #Verity’s little sister, Jewel.

The newest notch on my bedpost in my campaign to clean up the New York City streets was still trying to make me shake in my boots as he jabbed randomly with his faux weapon. He began to advance, which made me sigh. I was actually going to have to stop leaning against this wall and swing my arm. He really wasn’t worth the effort. However, I swore that even without Haven I could still make a difference and lending a hand in gang violence problem seemed like an appropriate place to start. If I had known how boring it was going to be, I probably would have passed.

“Damn-it Jewel.”

Crap. My boyfriend’s back, and there’s gonna be a bloodbath. Also, the one in actual danger is probably me.

I managed to catch sight of a few light bursts, heard some dull thuds and groans, and down went my future morgue resident.

“Didn’t I tell you to go straight home?”

“Took a wrong turn.” I tried to bat my lashes engagingly.

All I got for my efforts was a glower and a growl.

“Is something wrong with your eyes?”

Someone’s in a bad mood. “No.”

“Then stop looking like you’re having an epileptic fit.” He stomped over to me and yanked me into his arms. Hot. His arms ran swiftly over my arms and back, “You aren’t hurt, right?”

Super hot.  

“Shiny as usual,” I assured him, resting my head against his chest.

“Good. We are going to discuss your willful attitude that you can jeopardize your life on a consistent basis and not have any repercussions.” His hands grasped my shoulders, and he shook me to punctuate his words. “You have responsibilities, damn it. I realize you’re still hurting since that run-in with those idiotic Norse. Even worse, the crap with your family. No matter what, I am not dealing with your fucking male harem back at the lair or that bitch you call a best friend.”

“Willow’s a witch,” I slipped back into his arms.

“Willow’s a bitch.”

“To-may-to … to-mah-to.”

He brushed his cheek against my hair and wrapped his arms around my back. Bending his knees, he sent us into the air, his wings creating a pleasing cloud of smoky spice around us. I closed my eyes determined to enjoy the ride, knowing the lecture was sure to continue as soon as we returned to our current digs. It was the one rule he insisted on. No fighting while in transit. He thought he needed all of his senses to keep us safe.

I never bothered to explain to him that I could keep an entire city block safe while singing a song without missing a note.

Male pride. It really is a delicate thing.

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