Echoes of Fire (The Mercury Pack, #4)

by Suzanne Wright

He snorted. “I’ve eaten chicken breasts that were bigger than your tits.” “And I’ve worn heels that are longer than the dick you appear to be packing,” Madisyn shot back.

She scowled at his presumption. “Not everybody hates me, Bracken.” His brow creased. “I don’t hate you. But if you’re ever pushed into traffic, there’s a good chance that it was me.”

“I know you have a conscience, Mad—” “See, there you go using those odd words! Next, you’ll have me writing lines like ‘Setting fires is wrong’ over and over. God, that brings back memories.” Dawn planted her hands on her hips. “Well, it is wrong.” “Depending on what or who you’re burning, sure.” “That’s not why—Stop laughing, Makenna! Snorting coffee out of your nose is not attractive.”

Not something she hadn’t heard before. “I was pronounced dead once.” His mouth dropped open. “What?” “Yep. When I was ten, a truck hit my school bus and knocked it into the river. I couldn’t get out. My parents came to identify my body, and I snored.”

She lifted one shoulder. “You annoyed me a lot more in the beginning.” “But not so much nowadays?” “You grow on people. But then, so do moles.”

Willow cocked her head. “Bracken, did you know that Cassidy’s a virgin?” Bracken stiffened. “Um . . .” He looked at the others for guidance, but they were all staring at Willow with a kind of horrified amusement. Cassidy rolled her eyes. “It’s ‘Virgo,’ Willow. ‘Virgo.’” “Oh.” Willow frowned. “Then what’s a ‘virgin’? Daddy, do you know what it is?” Eyes wide, mouth bobbing open and closed, Nick thrust a hand through his hair. “It’s, um, a business. It has airlines and other stuff.”

“At least I don’t talk in my sleep. What was it you said the other night? Oh yeah. ‘Fuck you, Dumbledore. I want my wand back.’” She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting a blush. “I do not dream about fictional characters, and I do not talk in my sleep.” Ha, such a lie. “No? You sure? Because last week, you muttered, ‘Gollum, you best get your magic gophers out of my goddamn rockery.’”

“Yes, you did. You said those exact words.” “No, I really didn’t.” She was pretty sure she’d remember. “You did.” “When?” she challenged. “When you were asleep. You also said I had the best ass in the history of ever.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Then you told me in the next breath, ‘No, I will not buy you any more fucking gravy boats—this bullshit is over.’”