The Consumption of Magic (Tales From Verania 3) - Page 73

“I don’t like it much either.”

“But….”

He shrugged. “But there has to be a reason for it, right? A point. Randall wouldn’t do it just because he’s an asshole.”

“Actually, he would do it just because he’s an asshole. And watch your mouth.”

“I can’t believe you talk about him like that.”

“I can’t believe how much you kiss his ass every time you see him.”

“He’s Randall.”

“I know, right? It’s so annoying.”

He laughed. I loved that sound. “You’re such a dick.”

“Sometimes.” I captured his hand and kissed his fingers. “I get that you’re worried about me. You don’t have to be.”

“It’s kind of my job.”

“It shouldn’t have to be.”

He stared at me. “You get captured by villains at least once a week.”

“Well. I’d like to think it’s gone monthly now, but—”

“Let’s say biweekly and leave it at that—”

“Who’s going to call you out when you pose for no apparent reason when I’m not there?”

“I don’t pose. And Gary and Tiggy will do it, because they say it all the time.”

“Huh,” I said. “I might feel a little bit better about this.” Then, “You can’t fall back in love with Justin.”

He squinted at me. “Run that one by me again?”

“Justin. You guys will be traveling together, and maybe one night you’ll get to reminiscing, and then that’ll lead to fleeting touches and accidental hand jobs—”

“Fleeting touches? What the hell is a fleeting touch—”

“—and you’ll wake up awkwardly the next morning, spunk drying on your hands, evidence of your coupling branding you in your shame—”

“And don’t even get me started on accidental hand jobs. How does that even—”

“—and then you’ll arrive at Castle Freeze Your Ass Off and announce that you’ve adopted three gypsy babies and are planning on moving to an organic farm in the country called the Rusty Rystin, where you and Justin will spend the rest of your lives in unholy bliss while I waste away to an old, miserly spinster who hisses at people to look away from my face because it’s hideous.”

He was gaping at me.

“Or something,” I added.

“Or something,” he repeated.

“I dunno,” I said, looking away.

“Sam.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Tags: T.J. Klune Tales From Verania Fantasy
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