The Consumption of Magic (Tales From Verania 3)

“GODSDAMN FUCKING Lady Tina DeSilva,” I muttered as I toweled off in one of the rooms in the Tilted Cross after a shower. “I’ll fuck her shit up, I promise you that. Trying to make me look like the bad guy? I’ll curse you so that your hair falls out, you odiferous bitch.”

Obviously my mood hadn’t risen at Morgan’s little pronouncement. And it certainly hadn’t helped when he’d pointedly separated Ryan and me into different rooms to clean up. I’d told him that in times of an uncertain economy, it was probably better that Ryan and I shower together to conserve water. Also, I reminded him, I was a high-value target, and wh

at if I was assassinated while I showered all on my own?

Morgan had said that the economy was just fine and that the Tilted Cross was as safe as any other place in Meridian City, so I probably wouldn’t be assassinated. Which, leave it to Morgan to be so practical. That asshole.

I’d stared forlornly at the door that had closed behind Ryan, imagining the hot water running down his naked body, his hand running through the wet hair on his chest, his muscles bunching in his legs as he bent over to wash his feet—

Morgan had shoved me into the room across the hall, warning me to get in and get clean.

Which I’d done, obviously, even if it was against my will.

I was almost dried and sure I’d found the perfect way to get my revenge against Tina DeSilva (I’d turn her into a frog who constantly emitted pheromones that would attract predators to eat her!) when there was a brief knock on the door. Before I had a chance to cover myself, the door opened and closed just as quickly as a tall wisp of a man leaned against it, arms filled with what looked to be soft clothing.

His skin was almost colorless, his long yellow hair falling down around his shoulders. I was absolutely positive he was part elf (or even full-on elf), but neither he nor Mama would confirm it to me either way. What I really wanted to know was what he was doing outside the elven realm. Elves rarely left, and if they did, it was for a specific purpose.

Not that I’d tried very hard, obviously. Because this was Moishe. And Moishe had made it perfectly clear just how hard he’d like me to try anything with him.

Which explained the way he eyed me now.

Have you ever been eye-fucked by a possible elf before?

I have.

It wasn’t pleasant.

I fitted the towel around my waist and tied it off securely, refusing to blush under his watchful gaze. “Moishe,” I said evenly. “Typically, when someone knocks, they wait for permission to enter before doing so.”

“I suppose they typically do,” Moishe said, his voice light and lyrical, almost like he was singing every word. “However, when have you known me to do anything typical?”

I rolled my eyes, unsure how it was possible for him to make everything he talked about sound dirty, even if the words weren’t. “Okay. Fair. What do you want?”

“I’ve brought you clothing, seeing as how yours was… stained.”

“I had others in my pack.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Yes. Those. They were filled with sand, the wretched things. Mama sent everything to be cleaned.”

“And my other stuff?” I wouldn’t put it past Mama to take an interest in the sand sailboard. I still needed to figure out why Ruv had gifted it to me. I thought we’d been clear on the whole cornerstone thing.

“It’s all there in Mama’s office,” Moishe said, stepping forward. He moved with a deliberate grace, almost like he was dancing. Elves, like dragons, were infuriating creatures who usually only did things when it benefited themselves. Kevin and Zero had charity in them (maybe Zero more than Kevin), but I’d never met an elf who did anything that didn’t benefit themselves. It was why I tried to have as little to do with elves as possible.

I stayed where I was, refusing to be intimidated as he moved through the room.

But instead of descending upon me like I thought he would, he went for the bed, laying out the clothes he’d brought. There were loose sleep pants and a soft shirt that was probably a size or two bigger than I usually wore.

He turned back toward me, eyeing me curiously. “Do you remember this room?”

I shrugged. “It looks like most of the ones that are rented out here.”

He smiled. “That it does. But this room specifically, Sam. This is the room you rented that day. When you kissed me. When you told me you wanted me to take your virginity. When you used me. Do you remember that?”

“I already apologized for that.”

“I know you did,” he said, tilting his head. “But that wasn’t what I was referring to. Even though you were hurting, I didn’t… take.”

“You wouldn’t have done that,” I said.