City of Fae

“We can’t ever go back. It’s a one-way trip. There isn’t enough draíocht here to weave a return journey. Besides, I’m not sure the fae want to stop her. Those that do are too afraid. She has agents everywhere. Spies. It can be difficult to know whom to trust. If I talk to the wrong person, I’d likely end up with a dagger in my back, and if you try to stop one of her agents, another will take its place.” Over and under, he flipped the packet between his fingers.

I plucked the packet out of his grip and caught his gaze. “Reign … What I saw … Are you one of her agents?”

He looked right back at me, not a quiver of doubt, not a flinch. “Do you ever wish you were someone else?” He softened his voice, smoothed it out and added a poignant note of sadness, which tugged on my heart. He didn’t need to confirm his answer; he’d admitted he was an agent by omission. He did work for her but it definitely wasn’t voluntary.

“No,” I said.

“Never? Your cozy little life isn’t exactly inspiring.”

“You know, just when I think I could like you, you go and say some fae mightier-than-thou crap and remind me just what a spoiled smug-ass celebrity brat you are.” That garnered a smile from him, shattering and sweeping away the creeping tension.

“Thank you.” He grinned, eyes brightening.

“I’m not complimenting you. You need to replace the filter between your ears. The messages aren’t getting through.” I tossed the packet at him and settled back in my seat. His answers mingled with countless unspoken questions in my head. It was a lot to take in. Too much to consider all at once. Faerie was real. The queen was escaping. And I had somehow managed to get tangled up in the middle of it. I needed time to process the information, time away from the distraction of Reign. I noticed him watching me; analyzing my face in that utterly unashamed way he did. Blatantly staring. “What?” His scrutinizing summoned a blush.

“You like to argue.”

“You’re easy to argue with.”

“You know opposites attract, right?”

“I’m not attracted to you.” A slither of nervous laughter escaped. I fidgeted in my seat. “Do women really fall for your BS? How do they even get past your love for yourself?”

He chuckled. “Most don’t care.”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Noting my enquiring expression, he rolled his eyes. “This conversation, here now, is the most real thing I’ve experienced in months, years maybe.”

I scrunched up my nose, “This conversation? This one? About magical faerie lands and spider-queens? This is real?”

“Yeah, this very one. You’re not afraid to say what you think. I like that. Some find my presence intimidating.”

Intimidating was one word for his presence. “Oh get over yourself.”

“I’m beginning to see the honesty in you, American Girl. It’s refreshing.”

“Give the rock star fae a medal; he’s had a breakthrough. You pretty boys are all the same. Surrounded by ‘yes’ people so much that you can’t hear a no through the lies.”

He hesitated, mouth open, about to deny it. But the denial didn’t come. A grin did though. “Exactly.” He pointed the packet at me. “You’re smarter than you look.”

“And there you go again. Coming from you, that’s not a compliment.”

“You’re also more complicated than you look. I can see I’ll have to double my charm to have you bend to my will.”

“I’m not bending for anything, mister.” The words were out before I could stop them. Oh heavens, he did not just cast me a wicked glance and I did not just imagine exactly how I’d bend for him. A trickle of desire spilled through me, warming me in places I tried to ignore with another restless shift in my seat. Heat simmered in his gaze. He knew exactly what I was thinking and wasn’t about to look away any time soon. During my research, I’d skimmed a few of the stories about him. The stories women had sold for big bucks; stories about the kind of lover he was. A few words recurred in those trashy articles. Words like generous, sensuous, insatiable … and wild.

My cheeks burned. I reached for my coffee, throat suddenly dry. Was the air-conditioning working? When did it get so hot in here? I really needed some air, and space.

“Sovereign.” A sharp, regal voice announced from the door. “By the decree of the Fae Authority, we hereby apprehend—”

Reign shot from the booth like an arrow from a bow. He charged the first fae before the warrior had chance to draw his short sword, drove a shoulder deep into the fae cop’s chest, bulldozing him back and through the café window in an explosion of glass. It happened lightning fast, leaving me and the café patrons gaping. The three remaining fae drew their weapons with a shriek of metal on metal, and while two went after Reign, number three locked his tricolored eyes on me.





Chapter Eleven


I had never been in trouble, never really had anything happen that had me contemplating fight or flight. Before Reign entered my life, the closest I’d come to a fight was standing on the sidelines of a three second brawl outside a nightclub.