The Bentley stopped on a deserted New York City block, the street lined with darkened brick buildings. Ursula stepped out of the car, tugging the fur coat tightly around her flowing green dress. A rusty steel door in a brick wall wasn’t exactly what she’d expected for a portal to the faerie realm. There was nothing around it but a small buzzer set into the brick, and a camera discreetly positioned above the door. The air smelled of stale piss.
Wrinkling her nose, she clutched her wyrm-skin purse, her good luck charm tucked safely inside. “Are you sure this is the right place?” she asked.
“Yeah, this is it.” His green eyes flashed a look that said don’t second guess me. “Do you remember your instructions?”
“Of course.” How could she forget them? He’d made her repeat them to him on the way over in the Bentley. “Don’t speak to anyone. Don’t eat or drink anything, but somehow manage to convey debauchery while not having any fun whatsoever.”
“You’ll have to maintain control. You’ve never been exposed to a legion of fae auras before. Even going in there might make you susceptible to hedonistic impulses.”
“And you won’t be susceptible to these impulses?”
“Males don’t react to the fae aura in the same way. We’re more likely to get possessive or territorial. All the more reason for you to stick near me, so I don’t have to murder anyone who tries to take advantage of you.”
“I feel like we’re walking into some kind of caveman era.”
“Their culture is different from yours. The women are submissive. They’re only around to please the males.”
She shuddered. What did he mean by ‘your culture’? She made a mental note to ask him about that later. “What century are these people from?”
He shrugged. “The king is nearly a hundred thousand years old. So, yes, caveman era.”
Her stomach tightened. “Are you serious?”
“I’ll need to act as though I’ve claimed you. An unclaimed women can be taken by the king.”
“What does claiming me mean?”
“It means it’s a good thing you find me attractive.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about?” she sputtered.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice.” He adjusted his leather wristbands. “Anyway, that’s not important. Abrax will probably be swanning around Oberon. We need to get invited into the king’s inner circle. You’ll have to catch his eye, while making it clear you’re with me, or he’ll try to drag you away to mate with you. The fae are quite keen on redheads.”
“Drag me away to mate? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Just let me do the talking. I know you’ll hate it, but in the fae world, these matters are only handled by men. They respect physical strength.” The frigid wind rippled his dark hair.
“Can we just get this over with? It’s no wonder Zee got the hell out of the fae world.”
Kester pressed the buzzer. Nothing sounded, but after a few moments, the door cracked open. A young man with long, silver hair peered out, the room behind him obscured in shadows.
“Your names,” he prompted. His fingernails were filed into points and painted white.
“We’re on the list under Peele,” said Kester, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Guests of Luis.”
The man’s eyes flicked to Ursula’s red hair, and she tossed it over her shoulder for emphasis.
“Of course.” He shut the door, and they waited. At least a minute passed as Ursula drummed her fingers against her thighs, trying to force images of Emerazel out of her mind. With Zee’s soul missing, there hadn’t been time to think about her own fate yet. But how long could Kester keep the fire goddess in the dark about her failure tonight?
Kester shot her a sharp look. “Relax. You look like you’re on a suicide mission.”
“We are on suicide mission,” she snapped.
At last, the man reopened the door and beckoned them into a high-ceilinged hall, draped on one end with lush green curtains. The walls were bare, seemingly made of tree bark, and dimly lit with honeyed light. At first she thought the light came from candles, but when her eyes adjusted she saw miniature luminescent orbs hanging in the air above them.
The fae’s eyes matched his silver hair; she hadn’t once seen him blink. It was deeply unnerving. “Welcome to Oberon’s.” Halfheartedly, he held out a hand. “May I take your coat?”
Ursula pulled off her jacket and handed it over, but the fae simply yelled, “Mavelle!”
A raven-haired female in a transparent red gown hurried through the curtains, grabbing Ursula’s fur jacket before disappearing again.
I guess that’s the female submission thing. God, she was going to hate this place.
The male fae beckoned them toward the curtains. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled them aside, revealing an enormous pair of wooden doors, ornately carved with oak leaves. A large stag’s antler was affixed to each door as a sort of handle. The doors were inscribed with gold letters that seemed to twist and move like living creatures—just like the walls in the locked room she’d broken into.
Without a word, the fae grasped the antlers, pulling open the doors.