The Maker's Metal 2: An Urban Fantasy Sci Fi Mashup by Dante King & Matt Waid

Author:Dante King & Matt Waid [King, Dante & Waid, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-12-04T00:00:00+00:00

17

Olivia leaned back in her chair with a huff.

I saw a twinkle of her own personality sneak out in the movement. Her aura was all kinds of fucked-up. Self-pity, despair, genuine self-hatred whirled around the edges of her soul and gnawed away at her like corrosive acid. A steady undercurrent of lust and physical need boiled away underneath it all. Small yellow points of happiness were quickly snuffed out by the other colors.

My old rival was in a bad way.

“What are you staring at?” she asked. “Go on, ask your questions.”

The sarcastic edge to her voice made me smile.

“You’re not doing so hot.”

“What gave it away?”

“The cigarettes. And what you’ve been doing to my staff.”

“You think that’s my fault?” she demanded.

“Yeah. I do.”

“You and your father had a picture-perfect relationship, Montague. I’m pretty sure he never tried to kill you. Or use you as bait for some inhuman monster.” Haggard blue eyes bored into mine with an eerie intensity. “I’m sorry that I’m not just sucking it up and moving on with my life. That kind of thing leaves a mark.”

“It does,” I agreed. “You’ve never really needed much of an excuse to be a bitch, Olivia. Your old man took a swing at you. I got you to safety, and now you’re throwing a temper tantrum because you want attention.”

My words cut into her emotions like a knife.

“Say that again,” she spat. “I dare you.”

“You’re so used to being adored by everyone around you,” I continued. “People fawning over you because of your looks and your money. No man has ever turned you down, told you what to do, or pushed you to do something you didn’t want to do.”

Her jaw clenched. Her expression and unblinking eyes reminded me of a feral cat.

“Now that’s not the case. I showed up, took you somewhere where you’d be safe, and you’re making that everyone else’s problem.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful? Begging at your feet?”

I reminded myself that her defiance was just a product of her conditioning.

People weren’t supposed to live in a world without challenge or some way of testing their limits. Olivia Durstin was a monument to everything I hated about the world I’d been raised in. But she was just as much a victim of it as she was a representation of wealth and excess.

“You can show your gratitude by not taking it out on the people keeping you alive,” I said. “I get it. You don’t have your private jet, your unlimited funds, constant access to a factory line of the best drugs money can buy. You’re crashing, hard, and you’re not coping.”

Actual hatred bled into her aura.

“You don’t know me, Montague.”

I gave her a thin smile.

“How long have we been doing this song and dance for, Olivia?”

She shuddered at the thought and took another drag of her cigarette.

“I’m done with this conversation,” she told me.

“No, you’re not,” I said. “I’m not my people. I’m not going to get up and leave just because you said that you’ve had enough.

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