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 in the guest room Amara assigned us. My breathing is heavy, the adrenaline of my frustration still humming in my veins.
"Besides, this is not your place," Jaxl continues, leaning against the doorframe with that infuriatingly calm posture of his. "Destroying the furniture isn't exactly a good look for a guest of such a benevolent host."
I roll my eyes and exhale a loud, jagged breath. Pushing away from the couch, I dump my weight onto the large bed.
Amara is certainly well-off; living alone in a sprawling, three-bedroom apartment in a prime district isn't cheap. Her mother must have saddled her with enough gold to tide her over for years, much like Lucy's parents had done.
"What do you want, Jaxl?"
