Sincerely, Secretary of Doom (High Court of the Coffee Bean, #2)

by Jennifer Kropf

“I know I fell fast and hard, and I turned to a complete fool for you, Katherine,” he said, and an unexpected patter rose in Kate’s chest, “but fairies fall in love fast. It’s how we are. And it certainly doesn’t mean my feelings for you aren’t real. I want you to be mine forever. I want to take care of you for Grandma Lewis—” “Wait… is this an actual proposal?!” Kate asked.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wooden ring with tiny branches wrapping a dark blue gemstone. “Marry me, Human. Immediately.”

“We,” Cress whispered, moving in while staring at her lips, “shall have—” he tilted her chin up so their mouths were almost touching “—seventeen childlings.” Heat filled Kate’s stomach, and she tore back. “What?” “Fine. Sixteen,”

I gather you need coin to eat, as well as lodging.” The revulsion that filled her human face was nearly offensive. “I would never lodge here in this hut of darkness and despair,” Violet promised.

“I searched for you,” he said. She blinked. “What?” “On the human internet. The web of information. Your name—Violet Miller. I searched for it yesterday with the buttons.”

“You can’t leave me trapped in this haunted mansion again!” “I’m going to undo your scent problem,” Mor stated, stretching out his hands. Lightly touching the almost-healed burns on his palms. “I just told you that you could use me. Now you want to erase my Doom Perfume? Why?”

Most would love having a strong assassin gaze at them longingly while they do their work.” Violet shifted her weight in her seat. “Let’s just say I’m not interested in…” she waved a hand toward his leather Catwoman outfit, “…crazy.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, even though she had no idea if Gretchen could hear. “I hate myself today,” she added. “For so many reasons.” Freida went to an end table and poured a hot cup of tea. She added a few pinches of powder from bowls on the table and a large leaf. “Nonsense, Violet Miller. You only hate what others have told you about yourself. You are just fine the way you are.”

“You are lucky I did not include Trisencor’s death as part of my bargain,” he said coldly. Though the air was tense, a cruel, slow smile crept across Cress’s face. It was an invitation to try and see what Cress would do about it. But then… “You still can,” Freida offered. “It’s not too late.” Cress wouldn’t dare to ever slap a female, but there were times when Freida made him wonder about it.

Mor shoved the whole thing into his mouth. He smiled around the pastry when Violet’s face lit up. He chewed a little. He stopped. His face warped, and he tried not to cough. Was that… salt he tasted?

A cough slipped out, and he covered it up with his fist. Was that some sort of crushed grass flavour? He forced a wide smile over the glob of rot in his mouth. It was the human realm’s worst mud mixed with the taste of horror and misery.

Violet walked away to the sound of Shayne choking. She heard a pronounced spitting sound. She smiled and took a sip of her mocha as she reached her seat, not looking back. “What sort of crossbeast feces is this?!” she heard Shayne whisper to Mor. Mor’s low, quiet voice of warning sailed to Violet’s ears. “You are going to eat that, and you are going to pretend you love it, or I’ll slay you where you sit,” he articulated to the white-haired fairy.

If Mor would just be honest and tell her that her muffins were disgusting, she would stop making them, and he could stop forcing everyone to eat them. But as it was, Mor hadn’t admitted the truth yet, and therefore, everyone they crossed each day would continue to suffer.

Cress released a loud sigh. “You shameless hoes,” he said, shaking his head—Violet nearly spat her mocha.