City of Fae

Reign crouched in front of me, breathing fast, but smiling, as was I. “How d’yah feel?”


A little wobbly, somewhat queasy, but otherwise, I felt rejuvenated. “Freakin’ awesome.” I straightened, trembling so hard I might shatter.

With a light chuckle, he reached for my face but hesitated, “You have a little blood there—”

I kissed him; pitched forward, planted my hands on his cheeks and kissed him hard, surprising myself as much as him. I hadn’t even been aware I’d wanted to kiss him until I’d tasted him on my lips, and wanted more. His mouth was soft, his lips warm. Fae magic fizzled across my tongue. He tasted amazing. Sweet, intoxicating. Like illicit things, made all the more delicious because they were forbidden.

But he wasn’t returning my kiss. Oh-kaay … I pulled back, licking the taste of him from my lips as heat burned my cheeks. “I’m sorry … I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean—I wasn’t thinking, I just … It must be all the excitement.” He looked at me, brows pinched. Clearly, I was an idiot. He didn’t want me. I’d just kissed a fae; I was falling into the trap. Bespellment. “It won’t happen again. It’s probably because we’ve touched, and you, ya know, took my draíocht. I guess I let you get under my skin more than I realized—”

His eyes darkened. “Because it couldn’t be real?”

“Real?” Abrupt laughter bubbled from me. “Real, no. No. Of course not. Wait? What?”

He stood still; really, really still. Only his hair ruffled, teased by the breeze. I froze too, sensing that something was going on here that I didn’t understand. Something dangerous. My fingers twitched, my lips skewed. How long had it been, minutes? Should I break the silence? This is so awkward. “Reign … I’m sorry, okay? I think, maybe when you took me to Under, that the touch is starting to work on me. The Trinity Law … Damn.” This was bad. The best thing I could do, for both of us, was stay away.

He stalked forward, intent oozing from each stride. My feet stumbled back of their own accord. The look he wore wasn’t pleased. He did “scary fae” far too well. He stopped, then handed over the dagger he’d taken from me in the café. “Keep this. Considering how you’ve just assaulted one of the FA, I’d hazard a guess at you needing it.”

I took it, and yelped as he vanished. “Reign …” Oh yeah, the kiss had angered him. Damn it. Turning on the spot, I cursed. “Reign!” How was I meant to get off the rooftop without him? Grumbling, I spotted a fire door, tucked the knife out of sight, and resigned myself to a long walk home.





***





With the evening to myself I scoured the Internet for information on the fae. There wasn’t any shortage, but reliable sources were few and far between. Wikipedia had everything from Shakespeare’s mischievous Puck to winged flower fairies. Faerie was mentioned. A lot. In folktales, myths, and legends. The land of the fae. But nobody thought it was real, at least not from the twentieth century onward. Those who did believe were labeled “alternative.” Perhaps we’d convinced ourselves it was a cultural thing; just a story the fae liked to tell. Like our penchant for telling tales about Santa Claus. How wrong we were. The “official” Fae information made no mention of Under, or how they’d been expelled from Faerie, just that the fae were few, they lived among us, and had done so for as far back as records went, so there was no need to panic. I chewed on a nail, remembering how Reign had told me they’d been kicked out of Faerie. All the fae here were outcasts. Maybe Andrews knew more, or suspected. He had said they weren’t meant to be here.