Chapter Twelve
“What have you done now,” Crispin huffs.
“It wasn’t me,” Frost protests, but Crispin just raises an eyebrow and ushers us inside the cottage.
Aodh and Chesca are sitting in the living room, but get up when they see us. The Guardian motions us to the sofa. “You can lie down there, Frost.”
Chesca mutters something about blood stains, but one look from her Guardian lover silences her. Wow, I hadn’t realised just how much influence he had on the demon diva.
With a groan, Frost sinks onto the sofa. Crispin stands next to him, moving his hands through the air above Frost’s burned back. I can see him weaving a net of thin magic strands, delicate and beautiful.
“This is your first lesson in healing,” Crispin mutters, his forehead scrunched in concentration.
“I hadn’t planned
