Magical Midlife Love (Leveling Up #4) - K.F. Breene Page 0,20

since he got here, just without the title.” She felt Jessie winding closer and wrestled a delighted smile off her lips. Niamh hadn’t told Austin Steele why Jessie was so pissed off earlier. It would be a wonderful and probably extremely violent surprise.

“I don’t know anything about shifter territories other than what I’ve read, but this place seems like a well-run magical town.”

“Well-run? Do ye hear him?” she exclaimed.

“Who?”

He clearly wasn’t familiar with that turn of phrase.

“The new people have made a right bags of this town—”

“A right what?”

“It’s a fecking shitshow, so it is. Pure chaos. There are lads running all over the place with their willies in their hands, lookin’ to fight. It’s madness. Well…” She took a sip of her drink. “It’s fun, don’t get me wrong. It’s like a game of Whac-A-Mole, but you have’ta play behind Austin Steele’s back or things get ugly. When I’m in a mood, I can always find someone to pound on. It’s great craic.”

“He seems to back people down with just a look…”

“Yeah. Take the hint.”

She was met with silence. Clearly this mage was way out of his league when it came to shifters. That would work out badly for him if he stayed in O’Briens.

“When he’s staring atcha,” she said, “he’s promisin’ to put ye in yer place if ye don’t mind yer manners. He’s being nice to ye right now because of Jessie. It’s the only reason he’s ever nice. Otherwise he’s a fair but hard-hearted el’ bastard, so he is. Good man but as dangerous as they come.”

“So staring is considered a challenge?”

“Yer not going to last long in this place, boyo, unless ye cop on.”

He stared at the side of her head. “I’ll assume that is a yes. So if he takes it as a challenge, what happens next?”

“Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph. Ye get a clatter, that’s what happens. Ye try to see out yer ear after he thumps ye. Look.” She turned a little so she could better see him. “Here’s a word of advice. If ye want to try yer hand against a shifter, and I don’t blame ya if ye do, pick someone else. Anyone else. Don’t start with him. Don’t even end with him. He was born an alpha, and now he’s actually trying a little. It won’t be long before he tries a lot and claims the reputation he deserves. For Jessie’s sake, stay away from him. She needs help, and ye can’t do that if Austin Steele rips ye in half.”

“All due respect, you aren’t born an alpha any more than you’re born a mage. You are merely born with talent. It’s up to the individual to hone and shape that talent into a skill set.”

“What are ye, a philosopher?”

“When I have nothing better to do…yes, I suppose so.”

She grunted again. So much for idle chitchat.

“What made him…try a little, if I might inquire?” the mage asked.

She took a sip, debating how much information to share about the area and the people running it. Austin Steele might not know what to make of the mage, but he didn’t seem to consider him a threat. Niamh never really tried to assess anyone, assuming everyone was an arsehole, but she had to admit that the mage didn’t annoy her. He wasn’t pushy, he wasn’t too chatty, he drank when pushed—and a drink to be proud of, at that—and he just minded his own business when no one engaged him.

He did have a staring problem, though. He was as bad as the horny girls that filled this place, watching Austin Steele’s every move, hoping to go home with him. Only this guy wasn’t looking at Austin Steele’s arms, back, or butt. He was paying attention to the way he handled people, taking in what the alpha noticed and reacted to.

That should’ve probably set off warning bells. It didn’t.

“Are you using magic to alter the moods of the people around you?” she asked.

It was her turn to get analyzed. “You don’t seem overly put out about the possibility.”

She shrugged. “Ye’re not annoyin’ me. If it takes magic to make that a reality, then I’m not beat up about it.”

A crooked grin worked at his lips, as though a novice puppet master were maneuvering his mouth. “What a strange place this town is. You aren’t afraid of magic controlling you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Not afraid, no. Though that kind of thing can make a body irrational.”

“Meaning?”

“If you were, and I’d had enough, I’d kill you.”

“I

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