Swift (Strangetown Magic Book 1) Read Free Page B

for us to take over one of the vacated streets, and fair enough it may have been for good reason as we were out of favor with many humans and despised by the elves, but when you find segregation anathema it's rather rich to then separate yourself from society and voluntarily make the haters' job easier.
    Strangetown, that's what home was renamed when the beasties arrived, and I guess it's apt. Not exactly an imaginative rechristening of the old city, but it stuck.
    The house was delightful, the reasoning utterly distasteful. I want to be me, live how I want, not hide and only feel safe surrounded by my sisters and brothers. One end, Queen, other end, the world and its problems. Talk about a rock and a hard place.
    All the doubt vanished as I opened the door and breathed deeply. Such an intoxicating scent, almost overpowering, and I felt the familiar tingle in my belly and the nervous flutter as I gently closed the door behind me with a soft click.
    Home. Peace. Safety—of sorts—and a messed up, totally inappropriate, stupid bubble containing a warped idea of a future happiness I knew could never be.
    "You made it," said Zeno Cleave, blinking his oversized, freaky as hell, yet adorable eyes. Voice like a lullaby, making me want to curl up in his lap and listen to him talk until I took my last breath, dying a happy old witch with a smile on my face.
    But I didn't, and I was still trying to decide what the hell to do about all this. Trust me, it wasn't easy.
    "I made it," I said, smiling weakly and avoiding his gaze. Feeling as glamorous as a potato in a sweating plastic bag, I unlaced my boots and hoped the stink wasn't contaminating his perfect nostrils. I knew I needn't have worried, as apparently my ripe odor is akin to his sweet scent to me, which kind of grosses you out if you think about it. I mean, maybe what I can't get enough of is really the smell of an elf in need of a shower.
    When the proverbial hit the fan, endless Strange came to us for help once they found not all humans wanted to turn them into dust, enslave them, or just hate on them. Many of my kind have taken these dispossessed creatures in, our Queen giving over our homes to those in need. Same as many Normal people have. Some of them absolutely adore the more freakish creatures that dwell among us. Takes all sorts. And we sure have that, and then some.
    I was given this freaky looking dude and told to like it or lump it.
    Then I got the hots for him; then I got obsessed; then I got angry and punched him in the knackers for being so damn sexy. So he cried, and I cried, too, and now we don't touch each other as everything is messed up and he could be gone, whoosh, at any moment. And besides, he's an elf and they are all bad news.
    Or that's what we thought, but, as usual, things can never be simple can they? Turns out Zeno is one of the good ones, and they are few and far between. It's not fair though, as elves are like drugs and you aren't yourself around them as they make you feel like you are half in a dream if you let your guard down for a moment. There is no way to truly understand your thoughts or emotions in their presence.
    He'd been here for two months now, and it wasn't getting any better. It's the original forbidden fruit, a deadly apple that will bring nothing but trouble, but boy did I want to sink my teeth into his bum and lick him and tickle him and have him do naughty things to me. See, what a mess.
    "Pleasant morning?" asked Zeno with a twinkle in his eye.
    "Had better, had worse." I tugged off my jacket and flung it onto a chair, but I couldn't even get that right and it landed on the carpet. Dead on my feet, I sank into the sofa like it was a bubble bath.
    "Oi!" came the voice of Mack as his head poked out my pocket.
    "Sorry, totally forgot." I reached down, dragged my jacket to me, popped the clasp, and Mack stared up at me with what I assumed was anger. It's really hard to read the features of a dormouse—they just always look cute