All Chapters of Prince Alpha's Rejected Maid: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Every particle of her body slammed from blank dream to dread in the space of a door lurching open and she was awake, looking, listening. Through the fringe of sweat matted hair falling in front of her face, some of it caked above her forehead. Sweat and blood. Her blood. Her eyes rested on the figure half way-in. Eyes groggy from sleep, it took them a long time to adjust to the light filtering from window blinds. Evan. Almost death. A bad foot. It was strange, the way memories reappeared like ants crawling in fissure to the sugar cube only to take their piece back in a single line. She recalled everything. He had put down two take-outs, a bag presumably full of clothes, the print said it was a local store, and a pack of cigarettes. He smoked? Why hadn't she seen a lighter on him before? And whatever happened to his hair? He was wearing a hat but she could sense a change. Like her eyes, her voice came out groggy. "What", she cleared her throat, it was sore, "what are we doing here?"

Eduardo was tired. And, to be completely honest, frustrated. He didn't become a sentinel to risk the hides of his soldiers to consortium agents, who were always one step ahead. Alas, his need to protect them was conflictingly making him a recluse, until he put the pieces together. Which, honest to God he was really trying, unfortunately without success for the past few weeks.And, he was a good goddamn Beta!There had to be a missing piece somewhere in the reports he was receiving. And, he was receiving tons of reports of the most useless stuff.Speaking of which…"Sir, the humans are restless again. They want us to look into the witches coming from upriver at night."He shook his head. Even old wives tales granted reporting to Azure Sun, apparently."Two patrols have confirmed there's nothing more than changelings and fish upriver. What exactly do they want?"They want us to camp out there at night and see for ourselves. And, we all know that the consortium agents could very well be

There was a deceptive tangling of alleys that gave the impression of a map that shifted behind him, gargoyles tiptoeing away, stones like puzzle pieces rearranging themselves into new configurations of maps to places unknown while he weren’t looking. Nova Scotia entranced anyone, limitless seas like endless possibilities, confined only by those who fetishized geography and kept close eyes on it. But it tricked them, like mythic Fay who trick travelers into deep jungles to be lost forever. Mikhail felt all of this when he didn't want to. His priorities could be straight as an arrow but the animal won. It always did. And he needed the animal to survive today. With its sharp wit, even sharper claws and a sore back because the flight here had been uncomfortable. The fight with Noah over coming here even more so. He removed his black goggles to take it all in, near the harbour where ships were docked, people in summer clothes, sandals and sliders-lots of them. If he saw anyone in shoes,

There had to be a different kind of hell, ready to receive souls that were self-centred to the point everything became about them and what they wanted. There had to be. After the events of the past hour, where she was suffering from labored breath and sweat clogging her skin pores, seeping from the cracks in her body, Evan hadn't yet trusted her with a weapon. It also had been flimsy eighteen hours since she was presumably missing. Clavin wouldn't start looking for another twenty. She doubted she'd be here by then. Or alive. She was trailing behind him but couldn't shake the feeling that if she swayed an inch out of line, he'd handcuff them together.Jodie had seen crazy alright. Evan was paranoid and crazy. What made him that way? Past the hedgerows and a column of teak benches stocked to one side of the footpath, she wasn't ready for what lay beyond the clearing. Teak was expensive and so was the marble with Persian slogans embedded in it."Junkyard," she grumbled, "you had us walk

To see them together they looked like the photocopier, an accountant and a desk clerk of a branch office on their way to sales convention. They didn't stick out like a sore thumb. A dark small man, a middle-aged white man, and a the one wearing sensible Birken-stocks despite the city pavement heat, the sort of millennial who tries to be cool. And all of them wore a bored, harassed expression that city dwellers are born with. No one would think they didn't belong here. One of them carried a satchel, fixing his time every now and then. They all looked like normal pedestrians, except three pairs of eyes were set on an old man. Maybe sixty, medium height, bulky. A doctor would've called him on the heavier side- after the BMI calculation but really his muscles had aged gracefully holding onto some fat. Light gray pants, wide at the top, narrow at the bottom, off white shirt with open collar, no jacket. The three men following him, not to his knowledge, weren't surprised he didn't wear a j