Oh, my god, what smelled so freaking good? I rolled across the massive space, my hands reaching for Colton but coming up empty. He wasn’t in the bed, which was a little strange. But hopefully the source of the food was the reason for his absence. I scooted to the edge and stared down. Of course being mated to a Walker resulted in a bed a hundred miles off the ground, which was a right old pain in my butt each morning. Luckily for me, I was no longer a sucky human. I was a pixie and not of the Tinkerbell variety.
I sat up straighter and with barely a thought connected to the green line of energy which ran through my body. There was no pain, just a popping sound, and I was again the proud owner of some glittery, fluttery wings. Yep, that’s right. Lucy Laurell, shortest chick in the class, could now fly.
How do you like that, Compound 23 biatches?
It took no effort now to flutter off the side and make my way across the huge room I shared with my wolf-Walker mate. Colton liked things to be large and opulent. For someone who spent part of his time scratching fleas and peeing on bushes, he sure enjoyed the finer things in life.
I can hear you quite clearly, mate.
The shiver that ran through me was not something new. It pretty much happened the moment I saw, thought about, heard or was in close proximity to the blond deliciousness which was all mine.
Shouldn’t listen in if you don’t want to hear bad crap about yourself.
His deep and husky tones shot straight back at me, sending a burst of heat right down to my toes. That man’s voice should be registered as a weapon. The growl, courtesy of his heritage, which laced each word was like a shot of pure attraction straight to my girlie bits.
Get your sexy butt out here, pretty girl.
My wings fluttered faster, and I was suddenly hungry for more than just food. I paused only for a quick bathroom break, brushing my teeth straight after. My wardrobe here was almost as drool-worthy as Abby’s in her Angelisian bedroom. Which of course was totally wasted on my best friend. She didn’t give two craps about fashion. Half the time she wore the same damn pair of jeans. And ratty old boots. All of that height and kick-ass body should have been shared around.
I scanned the rows of clothes. I had so many to choose from now. Colton loved showering me with colorful garments, but a lot had come from Malisna, my mother the pixie queen. She loved having her daughter back. And I wasn’t complaining. For the first time in my life I understood who I was. Things felt right inside, and I was happy. And after watching Abby and all the girls die in the dark mountain, we were all due a little happiness.
I dressed in a pair of light-denim, skinny, ripped jeans, which were made of something so magical that, even for a short, curvy pixie, they fit perfectly, teaming it with a black tank that had cut-out patterns on the back and side. It showed a lot of skin, but also gave me space for my wings.
I flew out of the large room, which held our four-poster ornately clad timber bed. Size was king-king-giant-ass or something. My mate was one big guy, and he needed something to fit him. Of course, he still somehow managed to wrap himself around me in my small section all night. Luckily. I wasn’t sure I could sleep without him now.
I hurried down the long hall, past the zillions of useless rooms that filled this house, and finally emerged in the huge open-plan, wood-grain and marble kitchen. As I caught sight of broad shoulders wearing a Henley-style long-sleeved tee, heat engulfed me and flashes of glitter puffed around.
Sometimes the glitter was like those old school cartoons where some little creepy creature had bad breath and this weird cloud of smell emerged from them. Of course, the glitter didn’t smell, or do anything much in this form. But if I wanted to, I could harness it into a weapon. I’d used it more than once when we fought at the dark mountain, and it was actually more debilitating than I’d expected.
“Hey, pretty girl.” Colton slid a plate across the bench, everything about him suddenly distracting me from the heavy thoughts.
The moment the plate hit the white bench, he moved. So fast I almost didn’t track it. Huge hands spanned my waist, and I was suddenly lifted up onto the stool. He hefted my weight without showing an ounce of strain, like I was just a pillow or something.
I kinda loved it when he did that. Not to mention the extended kiss he dropped on my lips before striding back around to stand before the cooker.