Page 50 of A Moth to the Flame (Utopia #1)

Chapter

Thirty-Six

DUKE

I never knew pride had a sound. Never guessed it would be hearing Cordie cry in a way that makes her chest warm. She didn’t sound like this when she was trapped in her mind inside my body. Then, she’d been scared. This? This is the sound of a pissed-off witch’s battle cry.

Watching her play them like a fucking fiddle kind of makes me horny.

No time to satisfy her body’s craving now.

No time for anything except tugging Cordie further into the chaos.

I bend down to retrieve a cushion so threadbare that the foam is visible in the center where someone sat in the exact same place for years.

I put it back on the chair it belongs to, then settle Cordie into it.

Next, I find the throw blanket that’s crumpled up on the floor.

I have to lift a corner of the coffee table to free it before tucking it around my shaking shoulders.

“Hey,” I croon, making sure it’s wrapped tight around her, the old, stained wool softer than a lamb. “Did Granny make this, or did she teach you how to knit? ”

“It-it-it it’s the baby blanket she made me when…when I-I was b-born.”

“Was it blue once upon a time?” I crouch in front of her, making sure to keep tabs on the other people in the room, who thankfully haven’t moved a muscle.

The blanket’s so faded now that it’s impossible to tell what color it used to be.

“Were you supposed to be a bouncing baby boy? Were you a surprise?”

She shakes my head. “N-no. It w-was g-g-green.”

Green.

I reach up to steady my head that she’s still shaking. “Like your eyes.”

A color you won’t find in my house. I couldn’t bear to look at anything green for too long because every time I did, her eyes were the only thing I could see. Made living surrounded by the woods a real pain in my stupid ass. It’s a wonder I never shot my own foot when I went hunting.

Is any of that true? I ask her.

All true, she whispers.

“Tell you what?” I rub my hands in soothing circles over my trembling knees. “I’m gonna start cleaning this mess up. If I put anything back in the wrong place, you let me know .”

I make sure to catch her gaze before I say, Even if this works to our advantage, I’m not going to forget what they did here.

She nods jerkily, then pulls the blanket up to my face.

I rise to her feet and stare down the witch with the sword, who’s standing just behind the chair that Cordie’s in.

I never drop eye contact, never trip on the shit all over the floor.

I round the chair until I’m standing so close to the tip of the broadsword that one deep breath will put a hole in Cordie’s perfect tits.

“If you wanna see how fast I can disarm you, then I’ll give you three seconds to fuck around and find out,” I tell Neveah.

Part of me hopes she does. Wishes she’d give me an excuse to split her belly open and shove her intestines down her throat.

I’m not acting.

I’m fucking pissed .

She drops the sword to her side and glares at me. “Wouldn’t want to hurt Delia.”

I lean forward and whisper, “Oh, you already have.”

Then I disarm her in the blink of an eye anyway. Maybe I am part fae or vampire or whatever the fuck I am. I’m really good at being a prick. And I’m disappointed that I don’t get to sink my teeth into Neveah’s black heart.

I point the sword that still feels too damn heavy toward the kitchen. “Get in there.”

Behind me, I hear shuffling noises, and then Hope says, “You should’ve left town when you had the chance, Delia.”

Cordie cries harder.

I whirl around, aiming for Hope’s throat. I don’t miss my target, and I barely restrain myself from digging in a little deeper.

She swallows as a trickle of blood drips down the side of her neck.

“Make her cry again, and I’ll take your head,” I promise on a low growl that sounds nothing like Cordie.

Hell, it sounds nothing like me. I don’t even care.

Let them push. I want to find out what my little witch can really do.

Stop it , Cordie hisses. Your dick’s getting hard, and I won’t be able to act my way out of that.

Does a little swordplay turn you on, Gingersnap?

You call that a little?

I bite her tongue to keep from grinning.

Wallace raises his hands as he approaches slowly. “Please. For your sakes, do not test a fae male who feels his mate is being threatened. Let us go into the kitchen as he asked.”

Goddammit , Cordie mutters. That was information the witches didn’t need to have. He just gave it to them for free.

I glance between Neveah and Hope. All their focus is on the sword point.

I think they already knew somehow.

Cornelius. Had to be. That furry little bastard was in the tent with us when the selkie delivered the mates reveal that he set up.

Speaking of the little Devil… “Where’s her familiar? ”

Hope backs away, scurrying toward the kitchen. I trail Wallace and Neveah.

No one says a word until we’re far enough away from the hysterical man in the chair who looks like he’s rocking himself into a frenzy.

Might want to tone it down a bit, babe. You’re reaching weird levels.

No response.

“So,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Where’s the cat?”

No one says anything.

Eeny, meeny, miny…I thrust forward until the tip of the sword meets Neveah’s throat, and she jerks.

“He’s making sure the rest of the coven is distracted with bird poo cleanup,” Hope blurts.

I nod, then withdraw. And wait.

Fishing and hunting require patience. Patience has never been one of my virtues. If I can manage it for sport, then I can sure as hell get better at it for Cordie.

I count to ten in my head. Tell her about the baby blanket my mama made me that’s still on the couch in my sitting room. Notice five more skulls that have turned up from somewhere.

“How do you know how to use that thing?” Hope finally asks.

I shrug. “Didn’t you ever use big sticks to have pretend swordfights when you were little?”

She shakes her head slowly, her eyes still too wide.

“Must be a boy thing.”

Cordie snorts in my head.

I do a few more moves that make Cordie’s muscles burn like someone’s holding a blowtorch to her biceps. I hear an echo of her purring like a cat in heat as a reward.

Wallace steps back once, twice, three times, until his back meets the countertop.

“What?” I swing it in a wide arc, until her muscles scream at me to quit being a showoff. “It’s fun.”

For me. And for my mate, apparently.

“That is one of the few weapons we have that can kill Wallace and his kind,” Neveah grits out.

Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner .

I pretend to stare at it like I’ve never seen it before. “Come on. Look at this thing. Cordie had a box full of her granny’s old Halloween costumes. Shit, she had boxes upon boxes of nothing but junk to sort through.”

Neveah narrows her eyes at me. “That’s a relic from the Isle of Skye, you absolute idiot. This house is full of treasure, not trash.”

You clocking this?

The Isle of Skye is a part of the Hebrides archipelago north of Scotland.

Scotland is also home to a private army that the selkie mentioned.

I slide my gaze to Wallace. “What the hell did you do to piss off the witches of this town? Not every day a group of women prays for a miracle from God that can kill a guy.”

Wallace says nothing, but he crosses his arms and stares at me the way my teachers used to when they were one more wisecrack from giving me detention.

“Don’t make him angry,” Hope advises. “He’s no ordinary guy. He can kill you with a snap of his fingers.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Nah. Pretty sure I can take him even with a toy sword. Cordie’s stronger than she looks, and he’s so…old.”

Wallace puckers his mouth like one of the town biddies.

“He is an extremely powerful fae, and you’re just a little boy who doesn’t know his head from his ass,” Neveah spits.

She said fae, not vampire. Wallace is being awful patient for a super fae. He has to know that I’m playing them, but he’s just…letting me. Not sure what to make of that.

Hear that, Cordie?

Stop pestering me. Keep them busy.

I resist the urge to look over her shoulder. I focus on Hope instead, who’s staring at me with a frown. “What’s a fae? Do you mean a fairy? He doesn’t have sparkly wings and a green dress.”

Hope tips her head to the side. “Why do you think that’s what fae look like?”

“Cornelius told me lots of things,” I answer without missing a beat.

“And did the little furball tell you that he’s the ultimate failure? That on his watch, his witch’s mother was murdered, and that witchling Cordelia nearly was, too?” Neveah whispers .

I stumble backwards a few steps as her words land like physical blows.

“How about that his punishment was being frozen as a clock?” She steps forward.

And again. And again. The only decent thing she does is keep her voice down.

“You’re the moron who released him somehow, and now you’ve put Delia’s life in grave danger by pulling her into all these secrets that our coven has worked for years to bury.

We have fought for decades to protect her, but your sorry ass wants to interrogate me about stupid shit? I think the fuck not.”

I can’t lose my cool. Not now. For all I know, she’s lying. I do say a very silent prayer that Cordie didn’t overhear a peep of that. She doesn’t deserve to find out the truth this way.

I hold my ground instead of letting Neveah steamroll right over me.

“Wait just a goddamn minute. How have you worked for decades to protect her? You dragged me around town and bewitched everyone into telling me all these stories of the shit I pulled—that I have zero memory of—but you were there for every one of those times, too. If I really did those things to her, then you never lifted a finger to help her. Nobody in this godforsaken town did. It was like she didn’t exist to anyone but me! ”

“Because poor Delia can’t catch a break from the gods and got stuck with you as a mate,” Neveah sneers.

“How do you even know about that?” I whisper-shout. They already did. I’m sure of it. I just don’t know how.