City of Fae

“You want the story, is that all?”


“Yes.” His suspicious scowl cut right though my blasé attitude. “To begin with, yes. But there’s more happening here. The fae came out forty years ago, and not once has a queen been mentioned.” I shrugged, “Maybe it’s nothing, but hours after I meet you, I have the cops at my door and spiders talking to me. Talking spiders, Reign.” My raised voice echoed around the stairwell. “That’s not normal. What aren’t the fae telling us? What aren’t you telling me?” He blinked back at me, impossibly innocent. “You know everything, don’t you? And you won’t tell me. Why?”

“Because the truth won’t change anything.”

“Answers like that only make me more determined. We trust the fae. At first, we didn’t, but the Trinity Law changed all that. We love the fae, with all your prettiness”—I waved a hand at him—“even though you’re all toxic. We just can’t help ourselves. Reign, there’s more to this, I feel it … Look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong, tell me there’s nothing to worry about.” He looked me in the eyes and smiled. I knew it. “This is bigger than me. I can’t walk away.”

His smile slid sideways off his lips. “You really aren’t going to leave this alone, are you?”

I hugged the Fae Survival Pack against my chest and shook my head. “Not on my life.” His sideways glance held a trace of admiration, and something else … Sadness? I wanted to help him. Whatever he was caught up in, whatever had happened, if he was innocent, then I’d do everything I could to help get his story out there. I just wished he’d talk to me. “You can trust me.”

“Trust you?” He huffed a soft laugh and turned away, descending a few steps. “I can’t even trust myself.”

“Reign.” Stepping down, I paused as he faced me once more. “Let me help you.”

“You can’t help me, Alina. You’re part of the problem.”

“How am I caught up in this?” He jogged back down the steps. No way was I letting him leave. I jogged after him and reached for his sleeve before he could open the door and escape. “If you’re innocent, what have you got to be afraid of?”

He flinched and then tugged his arm away. “I’m not innocent.”

The heat behind his scowl should have frightened me, as it was designed to, but I already knew he could manufacture a persona to suit his audience. His glower only went skin-deep. His fae eyes gave away the truth. Inside, he hurt. “You don’t believe that.”

His expression twisted into reluctant disbelief. “Don’t presume you know me.”

“Then show me what I’m missing.” A glimpse of fear sharpened his gaze just like it had when I’d confronted him on the sidewalk outside the Metro offices. What was he so afraid of? “Show me who you really are, Sovereign, lead singer from Touched. Because that’s not who you are, is it? The same as the fae who died at your party wasn’t killed by some unfortunate accident. You said there’s more happening here. I know it. Show me, Reign.”

“You want to see who I am?” He tossed the words at me, short and sharp, but I wasn’t backing down, not now. “Fine.” He held out a hand, palm up.

I looked at it. Soft, lithe fingers curled slightly, temptingly. “I can’t touch you.”

“It’s the only way.”

My hand itched again. I’d already been burned once. I shouldn’t touch him again. “I can’t.”

“There’s a place under London. I suppose you might call it a refuge. You want to know about me, my kind, and the queen?”

I teased my lower lip between my teeth. I couldn’t go back now. This might be my only chance to get answers. I mentally rifled through past articles, trying to recall everything I’d written about fae bespellment. One touch wasn’t enough, but how many before I started to fall for him? One more wouldn’t do it, would it? I rubbed my hand on my side, trying to cure the itch. Detective Andrews would not approve. Did I want to be Reign’s salivating slave? His draíocht snack bar? This was how they caught you. One touch, two, three. Then you feel for them, you’ll do anything to please them … and then … then you love them. Love was the killer. Once you loved them, you were lost. There is no cure for love.

“It’s just a touch.” He made it sound so innocent. “Call it penance for the truth.” He inched his hand closer and dipped his chin, lifting his tricolored gaze through dark lashes. “Tell me you don’t want to.”

“I don’t.” But I was about to. I dropped the pack on the steps behind me and extended my hand. He clasped his around mine and immediately the numbing heat surged up my arm. I whimpered a little and tried to pull back. Reign stepped up to me, hooked an arm around my waist, and pulled me into an embrace.