Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
“And a hot fudge sundae,” Baelfire tacks on, sitting up finally. “Or do you want a milkshake instead, Mayflower?”
Hang on. Are they trying to order all of that just for me?
I’m about to remind them that I’m not a bottomless pit like Baelfire, but then I notice the waitress’s wary expression. Obviously, witnessing that interaction has only cemented her suspicions. Now she’s staring at us like we’re sprouting horns and tails before her eyes. If I don’t do something, she’ll ask to see legal legacy identification from all of us.
The best way to distract someone from suspicion is by making them wildly uncomfortable. Thinking fast, I recall a musical movie Kenzie forced me to sit through weeks ago and give the waitress an exasperated look as if I’d rather not be here.
“Awkward, isn’t it? I’m trying to figure out which one is the baby daddy.”
Everett chokes on the water he’s drinking and Baelfire does a double-take. Silas and Crypt catch on to my act simultaneously.
The fae nods solemnly since that’s the most he can do to aid the lie. Meanwhile, Crypt heaves a dramatic sigh.
“While I’m certain it’s mine, perhaps we should get a paternity test once our adorable little nightmare comes along. Unless you’d rather enlist the help of a legacy to detect the father now?” He fakes a disapproving frown.
I put on an exaggerated grimace. “Legacies? Gross.”
“Freaky little fuckers,” Bael agrees smoothly, now on the same page. “Here’s a thought: let’s just assume it’s mine.”
“Right, because your family is known for their strong swimmers,” Everett grumbles.
Baelfire tenses, and I remove my hand from his knee when I feel a sudden surge of heat emanating from him as his temper slips. “Watch your fucking mouth, professor. At least my parents aren’t overcontrolling nightmares who try to micromanage every part of my life.”
Gods. These two just can’t get past the whole fire and ice thing, can they?
I don’t miss the way Everett’s face flashes with anger before he checks out, looking out the window like this isn’t a topic he’ll touch. The waitress seems just as confused and uncomfortable as I’d hoped when I turn back to her, trying to move on quickly before anyone else loses their temper.
“Unless you want to stay and referee the dick-measuring contest that will inevitably happen between these four, that’s everything for our order.”
The waitress shakes her head quickly and hurries away with our order, bumping into a table and apologizing profusely in her rush to get away from this pretended awkwardness. Poor thing has no idea how amusing it is for me to watch. I can’t hide my dark smirk by the time I turn back to the others.
Crypt’s purple eyes are full of mischief as he grins back. “Brava, darling.”
“Our clever little sadist,” Baelfire agrees, his shifter emotions swinging from anger to laughter in the blink of an eye.
Silas lifts his glass, which I notice is now filled with dark wine that he drains quickly, leaving no evidence for the waitress to see when she returns. If he weren’t fae, I’d be mildly worried about his drinking habits.
Dinner goes off without a hitch after that. The waitress has to return several times to bring all the dishes. Although I point out that there’s no way I can eat everything they ordered for me, my matches eagerly watch each time I try something new. It’s borderline ridiculous how much they want me to enjoy myself.
In their defense, all of the food is fucking amazing.
Still, the sundae is by far my favorite. Whoever invented ice cream deserves a Paradise of their very own.
When I go to try the steaming cup of hot chocolate, I flinch back at how hot it is when it touches my lips. Everett quickly takes the mug from me. Glancing around subtly to ensure no one is watching, he blows on the cup like he’s cooling it off. I can see the white frost on his breath, and when he hands the mug back, it’s the perfect temperature.
Icy breath. Why is that so hot to me?
I glance over as Baelfire bites into a burger. He’s on his second, which isn’t surprising. He ordered almost as much food for his shifter metabolism as they collectively ordered for me. When he catches me looking, he holds the burger towards me.
“Want to try?”
“Not if it’s meat.”
Everett tips his head, picking another olive out of his salad. Evidently, he is not a fan of those. “What made you decide not to eat meat anyway? Does it make you feel sick?”
That particular memory isn’t worth sharing. “Something like that.”
By the time everyone is done eating—aside from Crypt, who only licked my ice cream spoon once it’d been in my mouth to get a reaction out of me—it really does feel like this is an ordinary human date. The waitress comes to take our payment before scurrying away again, obviously wanting nothing to do with the fake drama I fed her.
Baelfire steals a bite of my remaining ice cream. “So, how is this date gonna end, hellion? I’ll give you a hint: the right answer is with you sitting on my face until I pass out.”
My neck abruptly feels hot. “You’re set on that, I see.”
“If I don’t die getting smothered by your sweet ass, I’ll consider my death a complete failure.”
It’s dangerously easy to imagine riding his face…and sucking the others off at the same time. I could play with Crypt’s piercings and listen to all of them moaning and see that adorably overwhelmed blush on Everett’s face as I trace my tongue around his tip…
Gods. I was dicked down just a few hours ago. How am I this horny already?
Their gazes darken on me as they collectively seem to sense the sinful direction my thoughts have taken. One side of Silas’s mouth lifts as his crimson gaze flicks over me.
“Do you have any idea how addictive your desire is, Maven?”
Before I can decide what I’ll do with them to quench this building need, a shadow moves outside one of the diner’s front windows. I snap to attention as I recognize a face just before it slips around a corner.
“We need to go.” I nudge Everett to slide out of the booth. “Now.”
Baelfire tenses, looking out the same window as we all get up. “What is it?”
“You’ll see. Follow what I say exactly.”
A moment later, we leave the diner. Baelfire and Silas turn left while Everett and I head right. We pass a tall man dressed in a red suit and fake bushy white beard, carrying a pot and jingling a bell. I don’t get this holiday character at all, but Everett tosses a thick wad of cash into the pot without saying a word before we turn down the alley I told him to.
Crypt is with us, unseen in Limbo. The moment we round the corner of the diner into a small back parking lot area that appears to be nothing but a few overfilled dumpsters and broken bottles on asphalt, I can feel it—the sharp hum of a trapping spell.
The world flips as Everett and I are suspended upside down in the magic snare. Cold explodes from beside me as he tries to use his powers to get free, but when I barely tap into the dark, malicious power inside my veins, the spell shatters, and we fall to the asphalt.
A shadow leaps toward me. I instinctively roll out of the way—but not before a sharp pain explodes in my left shoulder, rendering my left arm useless as I take a defensive stance. Silas and Baelfire round the opposite corner into the parking lot, racing toward us. Crypt drops into the mortal realm, tackling the figure from behind.
There’s a startled grunt, and another surge of magic explodes from the mage. Silas deflects the spell easily with a blinding burst of red blood magic, and finally, Crypt and Baelfire have the caster pinned.
Crypt rips the hood away from the man’s face, and Baelfire snarls.
“
Gibbons?
“
MAVEN
Everbound’s interim headmaster squirms under their tight hold, whimpering at the sight of Crypt’s glowing markings and the dragon shifter baring his teeth. I approach with every intention of tuning out my bleeding arm—but when Everett sees it, he scowls and pulls back the sleeve of my now-ripped hoodie to reveal what the mage stabbed me with.
A chorus of vicious swears goes up from all four of them when they see the nevermelt embedded in my shoulder. It’s the same shard I saw in Everett’s office. He must have stolen from there.
The mage was aiming for my heart. Safe to say he knows what I am.
I’ve never been stabbed with nevermelt before, but my entire left arm is now so cold it burns, the nerves searing from freezing pain. I compartmentalize the sensation and crouch beside the deposed mage, staring him down. The terror and revulsion practically waft off of him in waves, which makes it hard not to smile.
I’ve never liked this mage. There’s something about him I can’t put my finger on.
The bulging vein in Gibbons’ forehead looks like it’s about to pop. “Y—you’re a… you’re the?—“
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
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