The Evolution of Fae and Gods (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 3)

“For fuck’s sake, Lucien,” Stan says, rubbing at the nape of his neck. “Is that really necessary?”

Lucien ignores Stan, glancing at Carrick. “Sorry… he’s the best I could do on such short notice.”

“Appreciate it,” Carrick replies, then tips his head toward me. “This is Finley.”

And wow.

Lucien is super-hot. Maddox looks nothing like Carrick, but Lucien actually resembles him to the extent their facial features are damn near perfect. Lucien might actually have the most perfect cheekbones I’ve ever seen on a man, not to mention full lips that are accentuated by a five o’clock shadow. His dark hair is buzzed so short he might as well be bald, and his eyes are a steel gray.

The only imperfect thing about him is a scar that runs through his right eyebrow, but, frankly, it’s needed because he’s just too handsome otherwise.

Still, neither Maddox nor Lucien come anywhere close to how stunning Carrick is, but I can still admit his brothers are not hard on the eyes.

If there is one thing I think sets Lucien apart from his demi-god brothers—just on first impression alone—is he gives off a menacing vibe. Whereas Maddox is jovial and mischievous, and Carrick is more remote, Lucien just looks like someone that should not be messed with at all.

Lucien’s gray eyes take me in, clearly studying the woman who has become a fixture in his brother’s life, before he lifts his chin in acknowledgment.

“Nice to meet you,” I say.

“Breakfast?” Zaid asks Lucien as he flips some bacon on the built-in griddle.

Lucien shakes his head. “No. Got things to do after you finish with Stan.”

“I told you,” Stan grits through clenched teeth. “I am not healing some filthy human tra—”

That’s all he gets out before Lucien’s right hand flies, fist closed, in a vicious backhand that connects squarely with Stan’s mouth.

“Fuck,” Stan cries out as I see black blood staining his teeth, which, luckily for him, seem to be intact.

Lucien just cocks that scarred eyebrow at Stan. “You were saying?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles as he grabs a wad of paper towels Zaid seamlessly hands over to him so he can spit out the blood.

I wrinkle my nose, thinking that looks aren’t everything. Stan is a stunning Light Fae noble, but he’s such a bigoted asshole to me that it makes him incredibly unattractive. I do wonder why Stan doesn’t just bend distance and disappear if he’s so averse to helping me, but I suspect it has to do with an inherent fear of what the demi-god brothers could do to him if he didn’t help.

Stan starts walking my way, and I swivel the stool around so he can reach me a bit easier. Carrick turns, too, and actually puts an arm on the countertop, leaning forward in a way that cages part of my body within his space. I think it’s a clear message to Stan that his fist will be close by if the asshole speaks badly of me again.

Coming to stand before my stool, the royal fae glares hard. He reaches a hand out toward me, pressing his palm to the center of my chest. Still glowering—his expression telling me very clearly that if he ever ran into me on the street, I’d be dead—he continues until a low vibration hits me dead center and his hand starts to feel warm on my breastbone.

It washes through me, moving through my arms and legs, swirling in my belly, and slithering up my spine. Even my brain feels toasty as my eyes start to droop with drowsiness.

“There,” Stan says disdainfully, pulling his hand away. Immediately, the warmth is gone and I’m alert.

Holding my arms out, I lift one sleeve of my robe to see my skin is perfectly smooth without a single cut or nick. When I rotate my ankle, it’s pain-free.

Turning Carrick’s way, I ask, “My face?”

“Perfectly perfect,” he replies casually, but the fact he called it perfect makes my belly warm again.

It appears I’ve been fully healed.

“Can I go now?” Stan demands of Lucien.

He nods. “I’ll walk you out.”

The two brothers briefly grasp each other’s forearms. Lucien’s gaze shoots across the counter as he says, “Later, Zaid.”

Zaid grunts.

Then Lucien’s attention comes to me, the barest hint of a smile on his face. “Stay out of trouble.”

I salute him. “I’ve been lectured sternly and promise to do so from here on out.”

The smile cracks no bigger before Lucien pivots away, ordering Stan, “Let’s go.”

Of course, Stan gives me a hateful sneer one last time before he follows the demi-god out of the kitchen.

“Pleasant fellow,” I mutter as I swivel my stool back around just as Zaid starts scrambling eggs.

“Stan’s an asshole,” Carrick replies.

I glance sideways. “I was talking about your brother.”

“He’s an asshole, too,” Zaid says, but it’s almost with affection.

“He definitely seems more serious than both Carrick and Maddox,” I remark thoughtfully.