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Rhythm of Rime (The Fate Caller #2)
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Cold hands, warm heart.
Life can change so suddenly, leaving you standing there with your heart in your throat—unsure of what to do. I’ve never been good at playing the damsel in distress, which means it’s time to do something about it. My life has taken a turn I never expected it to take.
**This is a Multiple Mayhem Novel which has Reverse Harem themes.**
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A king at his castle kitchen…
Looking at him, sitting there at the table like he owns it, fills me with such a wide range of emotions that I’m not sure which one to focus on. I’m drawn to him. He’s incredibly easy on the eyes and well, he looks like he belongs here more than I do. His short, white hair is tousled but looks like he spent hours fixing it that way. I know for a fact that he didn’t, he only woke up five minutes ago and staggered in here for breakfast wearing only his underwear.
The top of his hair is longish, while the sides and back are short. I swear to the gods it looks like there’s frost in it sometimes but then I blink and it’s gone. Tricky magic. It works like that with his eyes too. They’re a light blue with an intricate white snowflake pattern around the pupil and when he’s feeling strongly about something swirl to a snowy white.
So very pretty to look into, those frosty eyes. As I shake my head, those blue eyes flick over me and through our new, and steadily strengthening bond, I feel his… shyness. Rime is shy?
Lifting my coffee mug, I take a drink and hide my smile with it. I’m not terribly surprised; that explains how he was hoodwinked by an average mage into thinking he was her baby daddy. Giggling, I choke on my drink of coffee and when his eyes zero in on me, accusingly, I laugh-choke harder. His eyes narrow and fill with a snow storm.
“Are you thinking about a certain mishap?” he questions softly.
“Uh, maybe?” I focus on the plate of bacon in front of me and force the smile off my face. Mishap? That’s what he calls his magically enforced relationship with Penelope? The brand that represents her stings as I feel a pinch of guilt. Yeah, she’s one I’ll never forget. But then again there’s no reason I should feel slightly bad about it. She’s still alive – that should say something for the situation.
Ultimately, what I did was the right thing. Magic should never be involved when it comes to love. Which then brings up the fact that it’s firmly involved in my life. I’m totally a kettle.
‘But not your love, Monster Girl. Don’t confuse those things,’ Ciar chides me. He’s not wrong, the bond doesn’t automatically make me love them. But the tinge of resentment I feel for having it kind of forced on me colors things in negative ways.
Man, I’ve got to get over myself. This is my world now, and whining about it doesn’t change anything.
‘Truer words have never been spoken.’ Trick’s voice is a bit of a surprise in my head, so much so that I drop my almost full coffee cup. Of course, he laughs and shoves a large spoonful of scrambled eggs in his mouth. The spilled coffee chooses that moment to head towards the edge of the table and my lap; jumping up, I grab the towel from the counter and mop at it. Gertie smacks at my hands and takes the towel from me.
“I do the cleaning around here,” she says gruffly with a bit of affection in her voice.
“Thank the gods,” I mutter giving up without a fight. It’s considered insulting to not let a Brownie clean. They like it, the weirdos. I hate cleaning.
Now to work on keeping everyone out of my head but –
‘Me,’ Ciar and Rime and Trick all say simultaneously.
“Are you serious?” I ask out loud.
The three of them are focusing on their breakfast – instead of looking at me, all their faces holding various stages of amusement. I huff at them and head upstairs to change. Without having to go to the Menagerie, the days are more or less open. Other than the training Ciar insists we do daily, I have nothing specific to do and it’s driving me crazy. I’m a doer not a sitter. Today, I’m looking forward to training; I’m restless and edgy and the brands are hurting more than usual.
“It’s because you haven’t completed all the bonds,” Ciar says from the doorway that’s he’s leaning against looking like a juicy piece of man-bacon that I want to get my teeth into.
That escalated quickly.
“At least, I’m not against it like I was. I’d simply rather not rush it. I accept that they exist, and that Trick is somehow in my head without the blood exchange. But I’m allowed to be a bit slow with it.” I grumble, pulling a pair of bright white shorts on. Ciar hates them, I have no idea why but white clothes mess with him. Good.
“Do the blood bond with Trick.” Rolling my eyes, I toss my pajamas in the basket and turn back to him, arms crossed.