City of Fae

The TV report continued with news of how three high-profile fae had recently perished in unrelated incidents. Caroline’s name was mentioned and a library picture placed on-screen beside the cordoned-off house where I assume Reign’s after-party had taken place. Caroline had had a humble, slightly aged warmth to her that most fae lacked. She wore a gown of black lace interwoven with red ribbon. Black and red … Like the queen. Like Warren.

I thought of Reign’s face when he’d spoken of Caroline, of how he wouldn’t meet my eyes. He knew what had happened, probably knew who was helping the queen escape. I wasn’t likely to forget how he’d bowed down in front of her hideous spider self. Why would he help her? He said they were connected. How could a fae like him be connected to something like her? So many questions. “So many secrets,” I muttered.

Moving away from the laptop, I collected my used drinking glass and was about to rinse it under the faucet in the kitchen, when I spotted a spider the size of my hand hunched motionless beside the sink. After being stalked and drowned in the creatures, I no longer looked at the eight-legged freaks in quite the same way. Eight glistening black eyes watched as I kicked my shoe off and held up my makeshift mallet. “See this? This size seven is your funeral.” It skittered back, legs rippling. An electric jolt of fear and revulsion spurred me into action. I slammed my shoe down and shivered at the sickening crunch that signaled the demise of my unwanted housemate.

Reign had said she was always watching. I eyed my living room, looking for rippling shadows. Sleep was a long way off.





Chapter Twelve


“Don’t move. Don’t make a noise. Stay very, very still. They’re watching.”

Reign’s tricolored eyes captivated me while all around there was darkness. It took a few moments for the fog of sleep to clear and for me to realize the pressure pushing down on me was Reign’s gloved hand clamped over my mouth, while the other hand rested on my waist. He must have seen my eyes widen, or heard the uptick of my heart, because he gave the slightest of headshakes. His lips tightened in a grim line, eyes flaring. Where was I? My bed. My room. But …

His words played over in my head. They’re watching. Oh no. Unable to move my head, I swiveled my eyes, sweeping my gaze into the dark. Whispers filtered through the quiet. The walls glistened.

Chest heaving, breath racing, I met and held Reign’s steady gaze. Panic clawed at my thoughts. My attention skewed sideways, slipping from his face to the ceiling, where the dark undulated like the surface of a lake. Slowly, I eased my hand beneath the pillow. My fingertips glanced across the smooth, cool dagger handle. I curled the weapon into my hand.

Reign leaned in. His lips skimmed my ear as he whispered, “Put your arm around me, I’m about to jump us out of here.”

I did as he asked, moving so slowly every inch seemed to last minutes. Heart hammering, I listened to Reign’s steady breathing. Yes, concentrate on that, and not on how the walls move. His hand slid easily around my waist, twisting my nightshirt and scattering a flourish of sensations beneath my skin that had nothing to do with the touch and everything to do with Reign’s proximity. He pulled me into a stiff embrace. The sensation of falling wrenched my instincts awake, but I clung on, and kept my eyes closed. Reign smelled syrupy, like something good enough to eat. I breathed the scent of him in while the world around me tipped and rolled. Even when my feet registered the ground beneath them, and my stomach stopped pitching, I still clung on. It felt good … being held. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had held me just for the sake of being close. My head against his chest, the rhythm of his heart beat against my ear and the warmth of him enveloped me. I could so easily have stayed like that. I wanted to stay like that. To be held. Loved.

Reign cleared his throat. “As delightful as this is.”

Oh! I sprang away from him, flushed with embarrassment, and bumped into a table, knocking over a vase of long-stemmed roses. Water sloshed across the polished dark wood and poured over the edge of the table onto the very expensive-looking rug. Discarding the dagger on the table, I made a lunge for the vase, hoping to prevent it from toppling over the edge too. When I remembered I wore just a nightshirt and panties my lunge fell short. The vase slipped over the edge and shattered in dramatic fashion, while I lay sprawled across the table, giving Reign an uninterrupted view of my rear. I didn’t want to see his face. Let the spiders just kill me now. I slid off, planted my feet, cleared my throat, and adjusted my hair, all before lifting my eyes.