12. The Funeral III

“No,” I hiss, snatching my shirt off the floor and I pull it over my head angrily. “I don’t care whatever bullshit deal you have for me. How dare you walk into my home, charm me out of my clothes and still think I’d be stupid enough to even want to hear the lies you sputter with your stupid golden tongue?”

I’m forcing my feet back into my pants, and I think I’ve got it the wrong way, but I don’t dare take my eyes off him. I don’t know how I failed to recognize him. I saw him at the revelry. Funeral. Whichever. And just like the others, he was hellbent on catching me. Over the years, he’d sent his men to come find me. They didn’t live to tell.

Eyeing him, I wonder how many times I’ll have to shoot him to kill him. Admittedly, none of his cronies ever had wings. And none of them looked like…that. It’s why I know he’s more dangerous. The less hideous, the more sneaky, cunning.

Lord Fionn cocks his head at me, watching me watch him as I make a fool of myself, putting both legs into one pa