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October 15 - October 17, 2023
“You mean to tell me that you waltzed in here with that sanctimonious attitude and expected to get this for free? Are you just discourteous or do you have a forbearance disorder? Is your brain a miniscule raisin?”
“I’ll be off, then,” the guy announced. He turned to leave, and heat flushed Kate’s neck. Her fingers tightened around her book. The next thing she knew, she was throwing Bella Stone at the back of his head. The thwack of a cozy manuscript hitting a complete arse had a nice tune to it.
The sudden urge to barf up the croissant daily special onto the floor trickled into Kate’s abdomen as it became apparent to the early morning coffee drinkers that Kate Kole had just killed someone.
It would make a good novel. She could call it, The Bolting Butterfly. A Young Adult Modern Fantasy about a girl who floated into the heavens to run from her problems.
“Yes, run from me little human. I’ll only play games with you. But my assassins will find you soon enough, and they don’t have the patience for games like I do.”
Kate Kole’s soft lips curled into a smile, and Cress tilted his head as he studied it. For a human insect, her smile was pleasantly striking. Possibly even slightly attractive to an untrained eye.
Cress found that he couldn’t blink. It was her face—Cress was sure that her face was gilded by the sun and beloved by the moon, molded together by the deities of the sky with soft, clay skin and an entire forest in her eyes. Oh no…
Kate Kole had just enslaved the fae Prince’s three deadly assassins.
“It was a good kiss, too. It should have painted the heavens with gold and made the air smell of gingerberries,”
“Why does everything of the sinister and magical sort always happen in a library?” he muttered to himself.
“You’re an evil human,” he said. But the old woman’s joy seeped into his bones, leaving a thousand phantom giggles in the air,
It had been several days since Cress laid eyes on his human target, but for whatever absurd reason, he had forgotten the preposterous depths of green in her eyes and the potency of her offensively innocent fragrance.
The café became a warm hug in the middle of the snowstorms,
“Which of my assassins is your least favourite? I want to see if we picked the same one.”
He released the breath he was holding and moved to climb off.
