The Lightning-Struck Heart (Tales From Verania 1)

Kevin had already started rushing at Ryan, who was scrambling back a step or two, sword at the ready. “Yes, light of my life?”

“No killing,” Gary said, sounding as if he’d only known hardship his entire life.

“Or maiming,” I said.

“Or maiming,” Gary said, rolling his eyes. “Because Sam is a killjoy and we never get to have any fun at all. But if we’re going that direction, then Ryan can’t kill Kevin either.”

“Um,” Ryan said. “Then what’s the point?”

“No killing,” I told Ryan. “Kevin is nice. Sort of.”

“Thank you, pretty,” Kevin told me. “Though I wish you would use that mouth of yours less for talking and more for sucking my cock.”

“What?” Ryan growled.

“That was probably the wrong thing to say,” Gary said. “You mens have fun. Toodles!” He and Tiggy then took off at a brisk pace toward the keep, avoiding Kevin’s tail as it snapped from side to side. I heard Gary grunt as he pressed against the great doors, the metal grating against the stone.

“Ooh.” Gary’s voice carried up the stairs. “Look at all this stuff. If I marry him, Tiggy, then all of this will be mine.”

“Gary getting married?” Tiggy asked.

“Possibly,” Gary said. “I am a catch, after all. I’ve been proposed to on numerous occasions and—oh my gods, look at the size of that emerald it’s bigger than my face—I might as well get around to accepting one of these days. You can’t help when you fall in love with someone. It just hits you in the center of your chest and—there is so much silk here that I just want to bathe in it forever and ever—you can’t fight it. It’s not about how much stuff a person has, or how much gold he has to his name—sixty-six sixty-seven sixty-eight oh my gods sixty-eight chests filled to the brim with gold—it’s about love. That feeling that blooms inside and makes you unable to breathe without them in your arms. And I’ll tell you, Tiggy. I just might be in love. Is that a diamond? I thought that was a chandelier. Tiggy. I’m in love.”

“You’re judging me, aren’t you,” I asked Justin.

“Yes,” he said. “So much. Those are your friends.”

“No,” I corrected. “Those are your rescuers. Who your father sent. Obviously, a reflection upon you.”

Justin scowled.

Point for me.

Score: Justin, one. Sam, six billion.

Kevin and Ryan continued to circle each other below as Gary exclaimed over this and that as they slowly made their way up the staircase. I pretended not to want to glower at Justin and to keep from cheering at Ryan to slay the dragon like I belonged to his fan club or something.

And then I remembered I did belong to his fan club or something, and not only that, I had admitted to belonging to his fan club, only to have him say that he wanted to put his dick in my mouth and had fantasized about me since I was fifteen years old.

This, of course, led to thoughts unbecoming of someone in my current position. Namely, I was thinking about fucking Ryan Foxheart in the asshole while standing next to his fiancé while Ryan himself fought a dragon below us, all the while listening to Gary get closer and closer, talking about how true love was real it was a tangible thing, that he didn’t think he’d ever feel this way and oh my fucking gods look at how many diamonds that crown has at least six and how many carats is that?

So when Gary poked his head up through the hatch and said, “There you are,” I couldn’t be held responsible when the first words out of my mouth were, “I am not thinking about fucking him, I swear to gods because that is just wrong, so don’t even bring it up, okay, because shut up.”

Cue awkward silence.

“Um,” Gary said finally. “What?”

I said, “Oh. That was a quote. From a book I read.”

And because Gary couldn’t not be an asshole, he said, “Great, and what book was that?” even as Justin turned his full glare back on me because I was a lying liar who lied.

For the life of me, I couldn’t think of a title of a single actual book ever written, so I said, “The Manticore and the Butler.”

“Ah,” Gary said as Tiggy pushed him up through the hatch gently. “The Manticore and the Butler. Sounds riveting. Who is it by?”

I made sure my eyebrows expressed just how displeased I was at him. “Mervin Sondheim,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Mervin Sondheim,” Gary said. “You sure know a lot of Mervins. So. Tell me. What is the book about?”