TAVRIC
"You know you can't sort out your feelings every time by punching something. It's not healthy."
"Go away, Jaxl," I growl—but I stop the assault. I pull my fist back from the cushion of the couch and stand there, breathing hard, the adrenaline of my frustration still humming through my veins like a live current.
"Besides, this isn't your place," Jaxl continues from the doorframe, leaning against it with that infuriatingly composed posture of his. "Destroying the furniture is not a great look for a guest of such a generous host."
I roll my eyes, exhale a loud, jagged breath, and drop my weight onto the bed.
Amara is certainly well-off. A sprawling three-bedroom apartment in a prime district doesn't come cheap, even in the human world. Her mother must have furnished her with enough gold to last years—not unlike what Lucy's parents had done, in the end.
"What do you want, Jaxl?"
