Page 41 of Perfectly Petite Shorts (Perfect Pixie)

It was strange witnessing such softness from one of Fairy’s mightiest warriors.

I’d seen Hellfire Rayburn decimate our queen’s enemies with a single slash of his fire-fueled blade.

Did I believe the gentle way Hellfire held his bonded made him any weaker?

No. The answer was immediate. If anything, his strong feelings and need to protect Wendall made Hellfire more dangerous, not less.

Interesting . I would need to ponder this discovery further. For now, it was time to leave. “Forgive me, I’ve taken up enough of Hellfire’s time.”

As expected, Wendall waved me off. “It’s fine. I tend to monopolize Ray’s time these days. I realize he had a life before me.”

“A dull and far less fulfilling life,” Hellfire immediately said.

Wendall’s grin scrunched his eyes. “That’s sweet.”

“And accurate.” Hellfire did not so much as crack a smile with his serious statement.

The air grew saturated with their affection and attraction. It was definitely time to go. “Thank you for your time, Hellfire. You have given me much to consider.”

“No thanks are required, Hamish. I wish you good fortune, and should you believe I can be of further assistance, you have but to ask. ”

I did not offer any further thanks. I simply inclined my head and said, “Good evening, Hellfire. Wendall.”

“Bye, Hamish,” Wendall returned with a little wave.

Trinket chittered something or other, tapping her feet and swaying back and forth on Wendall’s head.

I did not think the little scuttlebutt considered me part of her tribe, but I believed I’d at least landed in the category of friend and not foe.

Where scuttlebutts were concerned, that was very fortuitous.

The line to get into Dusk had only grown since my earlier entry.

The fact King Moony wasn’t species-ist was reflected in the diversity of species waiting to get into his bar.

The night had cooled but was still comfortable.

The walk to my vehicle would have been peaceful if not for the chaos rolling through my head.

A twinge of discomfort radiated from my chest. I’d jested earlier with Hellfire that I felt as if I were suffering from the human ailment of indigestion. The tingling fire emanating from my twin hearts made me wonder if maybe there weren’t more truth to that statement.

The discomfort stayed with me as I slid into the driver’s seat and all the way back to my earthly home. I was pacing my bedroom floor when it finally subsided, allowing me a semblance of rest.

T odrik

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

My cringe was automatic. Sage’s voice wasn’t high-pitched.

It was low and held a furious grumble. Sage was Jamila’s younger son.

Typically speaking, it was the older child that held roles of leadership.

Not so with Jamila’s children. Seven years Jessop’s junior, Sage was by far the scrappier of the two.

I’d been peacefully resting in my cherry tree form.

I was tempted to remain that way, knowing that it would be impossible for me to communicate with Jamila’s children.

That was the coward’s way out. Not that I wasn’t beyond that option.

Only that I felt I owed it to them, as Jamila’s offspring, not to ignore them.

Transforming into my humanoid form was as easy as breathing.

Between one inhale and the next, I was able to freely speak.

“Good evening, Sage. Jessop.” I inclined my head toward the older, broader brother.

Jessop was far from weak-minded, and if he truly disagreed with Sage’s presence here, he wouldn’t have followed him.

Sage scoffed while crossing his arms over his thick chest. While sitting beneath my branches, while I’d still been only a cherry tree, Jamila had often spoken of her “poor taste in human men.” She’d never brought any of her suitors to my roots, so I couldn’t speak one way or the other.

I had witnessed the occasional deep bruise on her jaw or cheek.

Her tears soaked through my bark and offered unwanted nourishment to my roots.

They had not been kind men, and despite Jamila’s efforts to the contrary, her sons had not escaped their father’s influence.

“I was having a good evening until I got this.” Sage waved a manilla envelope in my face.

“What the fuck is this?” Despite the dark evening, I could still tell Sage’s neck and cheeks were flushed crimson from his anger.

“You can’t stop the sale of the land. Mom left all of this to us.

” Sage threw the large envelope at my feet.

Jessop’s voice was even deeper and impossibly strained when he spoke.

“It says in there you’re claiming to be one of Mom’s children .

” Jessop spat on the ground near my feet.

“You’re a fucking tree, for God’s sake. Mom might have been a promiscuous witch, be she sure as shit wouldn’t have let a tree fuck her. ”

Instinct made me rear back in horror while Sage found humor in his brother’s slander, chuckling and good-naturedly slapping Jessop on the shoulder.

Eyes wide, I stared at the two of them completely at a loss for words. How had they ended up like this ? Jamila was a kind, loving soul. They said the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, but in this case, Jamila’s apples had wound up in another time zone.

“Jamila didn’t… That’s not how I was made.

” Fury raced through me. My hands squeezed into tight fists.

These brutes had at least a foot and a half on me, and more than three hundred pounds combined, but I’d be damned if I’d stand there and allow them to make such horridly lewd accusations.

“I’m a dryad,” I defended, chin thrust into the air.

“Yeah, I don’t know what the fuck that really means.” Jessop shrugged as if his ignorance was acceptable.

“You are the son of a witch. How could you not understand what a dryad is?”

Jessop’s eyes narrowed as he stared down his nose at me. Alternatingly pointing a finger between Sage and himself, he said, “We’re male. We didn’t inherit Mom’s witchy ways. What good would learning that kind of stuff do us?”

I wanted to slap my forehead at their short-sightedness. “But you carry her genes. If either one of you have a daughter, then she’ll most likely—”

“If I knock a chick up and she has a girl, then that’s on her,” Sage answered. Evidently agreeing, Jessop nodded his approval.

I’d had very little interaction with Sage and Jessop while Jamila had been alive.

It was far more common for witches to birth female children.

Males were rare. They didn’t abandon them like warlock fathers abandoned their necromancer children.

Males were loved, and although they didn’t inherit their mother’s abilities, they tended to enjoy extended lives.

I had no idea how that worked, only that it did .

Jamila loved her sons. Of that, I was certain.

She’d brought them with her when they were younger.

As they grew and reached their teenage years, she brought them less and less until it was simply her alone again.

She’d rarely spoken of her children. In fact, as Jamila aged, she’d spoken less and less.

She would come and sit at my roots. Often spending hours staring across the grassy field and into the nearby woods.

Lilibeth began accompanying her, and Jamila spoke with her friend, but those occasions were still far less than when she came alone. By then, the tears had stopped, as had the bruises. The melancholy remained.

Now, faced with the malice radiating from her flesh and blood, I believed I understood where that well of sadness stemmed from.

What I couldn’t understand was why she’d left the land to them in the first place.

Maybe she’d held out that sliver of hope that they’d find the same level of peace here that she had.

Maybe she hoped they’d change. Maybe…I was running out of maybes .

Kicking the envelope back toward my unwanted visitors, I said, “Take this and leave. If you have any further questions, you can contact my lawyer.” Let Hamish deal with this idiocy. He’d put them in their place faster than anything I could do.

Sage’s grin was far from pleasant. “Oh, is that how you think this is going to go?”

My heart sped. It was probably stupid that I was just now feeling the first inkling of fear. “I think that’s exactly how it’s going to go,” I bravely answered.

Bending low, Sage kept his eyes locked on mine as he reached down and picked up the envelope.

Slowly rising, his eyes were shards of inky black.

“Jessop might not know what a dryad is, but I do.” Sage scoffed.

“There’s nothing scary about you. You’re weaker than a mere human and far more docile.

” Thumbing over his shoulder, that horridly wicked smirk was back when he said, “I’ve got an axe in the back of my truck that I ain’t afraid to use.

And if that’s not enough, then I’ve got a couple of friends with chainsaws who wouldn’t blink an eye at taking down a cherry tree. ”

My lips parted as my heart fiercely pounded. “I am a sentient being. That would be murder.”

Jessop shrugged. “They’d have to find you first. A good woodchipper would do the job.”

Stunned to silence, I stood there as Sage tapped the edge of the manilla envelope against my chest. “Think about it. If you’ve got any brains in that dryad head of yours, you’ll tell that fancy lawyer of yours to drop the case.

” Sage’s eyes tracked the empty land. “This will look a lot better when those apartment buildings go in. Have a good night, dryad.” Sage spat my species name like it was a joke.

Jessop followed his brother, walking over the hill and toward what I imagined was an awaiting vehicle. I didn’t realize I was shaking until an hour later. I’d been in a daze of confusion and muddled fear.