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

I growl low, frustrated that his words—especially the part about fucking me—gets me all discombobulated and jumbles up my emotions even further. Now I can’t think of anything but Carrick fucking me, and I’m quite positive that’s the most important thing right now.

“Finley,” Carrick barks, his eyes dark and swirling with ire, and I jump. “Just tell me what in the hell you did.”

It makes me laugh nervously. “Sure you don’t want to have sex now?”

“The only thing I’m sure of,” he warns ominously, “is that I’m inclined to blister your ass if you don’t come clean. But we’ll have sex after, I promise.”

“Ugh,” I exclaim dramatically, deciding I just need to get it over with. I swing my legs over the side of his bed and plant them on the floor. I brace myself with my palms on the edge of the mattress and look directly into Carrick’s eyes. “I went to Kymaris’ house.”

Carrick explodes off the chair and I don’t even see him move but he’s in front of me. “You did what?” he thunders.

I’m not truly scared, but I want space, so I deftly slip to the right and remove myself from his presence, walking a few feet across the bedroom and turning back to face him. I hold my hands out, a request he just stay right where he is.

He does, but his pupils are red, his hands clenched into fists.

“It was Rainey’s hairbrained idea,” I say, totally throwing her under the bus. She’ll forgive me. “But Maddox went with us, and we just watched her house from a good, safe distance, and, as you can see, I’m perfectly safe and healthy, and nothing bad happened to me.”

The Rainey part does not affect him, but he relaxes slightly when he takes in my other assurances. I know he relaxes only by his hands loosening and the red in his eyes dimming.

Gaze dropping to the floor, I try to think of what to say next because the only thing left is to explain the awfulness we witnessed.

“Finley?” Carrick says, and the gentleness in his voice—a far cry from the fury just moments earlier—gives me the confidence to look back up to him. “What happened?”

“Only the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” I whisper.

All those times I had thought Carrick cold and detached seem like false truths, as he stares with such deep concern, I have a complete realization that Carrick—no matter how mad he may get—doesn’t like me to feel scared.

He wants to protect me.

This is further proven when he’s in front of me, once again moving so fast I don’t see it, and takes me in his arms. There’s no cyclone of magic transporting us, but we end up on the bed with his back against the headboard and me on his lap as he cradles me.

It makes my eyes sting a bit, but I blink the emotion away.

“Tell me what happened,” he says, reassurance in his tone that he has me safe in hand.

I let it spill. I tell him everything, start to finish. I don’t even gloss over any of the nasty details of what Kymaris did to each of those daemons. I recount how those daemons’ dark parents were summoned, all original fallen angels who were sent to the Underworld—and how they clearly have a purpose related to the prophecy. The only saving grace we had learned is she doesn’t have all she needs and will be seeking more.

Carrick’s hand strokes my arm as he listens without comment until I can get it all out.

“There was so much blood,” I say with a small shiver. “She was coated in that black stuff, and she loved it. I can’t believe how much she enjoyed the sex. There were eight, Carrick. And she… um… well, she enjoyed each one explosively if you get what I mean.”

“Yeah,” he says dryly. “I get what you mean. But fae have immense sex drives. Their immortal nature means they can just go and go and go. Some immortal orgies have been known to last weeks.”

“Wait! What?” I exclaim, pushing away from his chest and angling my body to face him. Then I shake my head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

An image of Carrick in the middle of a swarm of women hits me, and my eyes narrow. “Wait… yes, I do want to know.”

One side of Carrick’s mouth lifts, and he shakes his head. “I’m not going to go there right now.”

Maybe I don’t want to know details of orgies Carrick might have been a part of, and I have to assume he has been before. He’s almost five thousand years old. I imagine there’s not much he hasn’t seen and done.

An even more awful thought strikes. “You said the immortal nature means that you can… well, recharge very quickly.”