City of Spells (Into the Crooked Place #2) - Alexandra Christo Page 0,93

transformed into corpse-like versions of their victim.

For now, Tavia held a puppet.

Soon, she would hold a body.

Tavia stroked her hand over the doll’s head tenderly, like it was some kind of a pet.

“You know, that’s really creepy,” Wesley said. “Why do you keep that thing by your bed?”

“Oh, relax.” Tavia waved him off. “It’s not like it’s linked to anyone yet.”

“I think that makes it worse.”

An absent vessel, a body without a soul, a puppet without a master, waiting for Tavia to shape it into whoever she wanted.

Wesley didn’t know what Crafter had thought up such a thing, but he was glad that whoever they were was long gone.

“Seriously, put that thing away,” he said.

He reached over the covers to grab it from her, but Tavia jerked it away.

“Worried I’ll slip some of your blood over its smile?” she asked.

Wesley scoffed, but the way she looked over at him, amused, unsteadied his heart.

Tavia nudged him with her elbow, grin dangerous, and Many Gods, it made Wesley want to kiss her again. Truthfully, he never wanted to stop kissing her now, or to get out of this bed, but that didn’t seem like the best plan with death on their doorstep.

Or perhaps it was.

Perhaps, Wesley should test the theory, just in case.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said.

No, not talk.

Kiss.

Kiss first, and then ask if she still planned to run to Volo when the battle was over, like she’d always dreamed of. They hadn’t had the chance to talk about it yet and Wesley didn’t want to push his luck.

He hoped Tavia would help him rebuild Creije. He wanted them to stay in the city they had grown up in so they could continue growing there together. But just because things had changed between them, it didn’t mean Tavia had changed her mind about what she wanted for her future.

“It’s about what we’re going to do after we kill Ashwood,” Wesley said.

Tavia put down the mirror doll and turned to him. “Let’s not talk about after,” she said. “Let’s just focus on now.”

She reached over and curled her hand around the back of Wesley’s neck, pulling him to her. His lips locked onto hers and with Tavia’s free hand she squeezed his, like she was pressing some of her strength into him.

Wesley pulled the bedsheets backs over their heads and Tavia laughed loudly. Gods, he couldn’t get enough of that laugh.

And then there was a knock and Wesley paused.

He pulled the sheets back down and looked to the door.

“Are you expecting company?” he asked.

Tavia shook her head. “You get it,” she said, stretching. “I’m comfortable.”

Wesley rolled his eyes and reluctantly pushed himself up from the bed, throwing on the suit trousers that were slung over the chair.

“Whoever it is, just kill them and come back to bed,” Tavia called over to him.

Wesley smirked and opened the door, ready to do just that. Until he saw Saxony’s amja standing on the other side.

Wesley cursed to himself.

That family had woeful timing.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” she asked.

Yes, Wesley thought.

Out loud, he said, “No, it’s fine.”

“Can we talk? It’s important.”

Wesley cleared his throat, suddenly aware he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “Sure.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Just give me a second.”

He quickly closed the door and shot Tavia an apologetic look, but she was grinning.

“Did your amja just interrupt us for a quiet little talk with her grandson?” she asked. “Because that’s hilarious. All we need now is for your sister to come in wanting to borrow a cup of sugar.”

“I’m failing to see the humor in all of this,” Wesley said, grabbing his shirt from the floor. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

“It’s fine, go.” Tavia stretched out farther amongst the covers, burying her face in the pillow. “I’ll be glad for the space, if I’m being honest.”

“Funny,” Wesley said. “But don’t get too used to it.”

Tavia wiggled her eyebrows and Wesley wanted nothing more than to jump back into bed with her. Unfortunately, family came with responsibilities. He just wished those responsibilities ended after sundown. Wesley turned back to open the door.

“Is everything okay?” he asked Saxony’s amja.

His amja.

She was Wesley’s too now, and he needed to at least try to get used to it.

Wesley shuffled out into the hallway and closed the door softly behind him.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Amja said. “I’m sure you want to spend this night doing something other than speaking to me. It’s just that we haven’t had the chance to