City of Fae

I really wasn’t dressed for five-star dining—still in the stretchy top and pink leggings—but seated opposite him, watching him soak up the atmosphere, it really didn’t matter. The first law, look but don’t touch, had never applied to anyone more. He adapted to any environment, his faeness drawing people to him like moths to the flame. The way he moved, pouring liquid through muscles into long confident strides. How he spoke, never wasting a word, never hesitating. He was remarkable. I couldn’t blame it on bespellment. Not anymore. Which made the curious fluttering sensation deep inside all the more worrisome. It didn’t take long before diners surreptitiously glanced our way. Whether they recognized him or not, it didn’t matter; he was mesmerizing.

Reign talked about his music, how he thrived on the thrill of singing in front of a crowd, how the music spoke for him, through him. He talked about his music like someone might talk about love, and I forgot—just for a little while—about the queen, Reign’s confession, the hound, the fact I might not live beyond the weekend, or how I was a ticking time bomb and could essentially snap at any time. I listened to him talk, watched him taste the cake; drank the sight and sound of him in, knowing that this would end and the horrible reality of my life would stalk me once again.

Reign noticed me shuffling pieces of cake around my plate. “If you don’t want it, hand it over.”

“I don’t think so, pal.” I popped a piece into my mouth, my glare daring him to take the plate away.

He lifted his hands, feigning fear. “I’ve seen what you can do. The cake’s yours.” Retrieving his fork he carved up his own cake.

What I could do … I’d done things, horrible things I hadn’t known I was capable of. What other secrets did I have hidden away?

Reign leaned forward, licking his lips clean of cake, and pointed his fork at me. “We’ll stop her.”

I smiled, but it snagged on my lips, wooden and brittle. What about me? I thought. Would I need stopping when the time came?

He dropped his fork and tossed a napkin on the table. “You wanna get outta here?”

Out neighboring diners continued to pretend not to notice us. It wouldn’t be long before someone said his name, then someone else would ask for an autograph, and before long we’d be mobbed. “Sure.”

We left the restaurant and ducked into a nearby bar, packed with enough people for Reign not to be noticed, at least not immediately. Even with his head down, his collars flicked up, he couldn’t hide the predatory gait of his walk or the too-quick flick of his wrists. The fae would never pass as human, and we would never successfully imitate them. So close, human and fae, squabbling for the same top spot on the food chain.

We bought drinks and dissolved into a shadow-draped corner. Music throbbed. Tiny spotlights bred shadows. Reign’s gaze skimmed the crowd, searching for something or someone perhaps. Possibly Warren. We hadn’t heard from him since checking into the hotel. I was fairly certain the prickly fae was capable of looking after himself. “Maybe you should call him?” I suggested.

Reign angled himself so his back rested against the wall. The diffused lighting softened the angles of his face but sharpened the flecks of silver in his eyes. “Warren? Yeah, maybe …” He fished around in a pocket and plucked out a cell phone. He tapped out a text, dumped the phone back in his pocket, and said without pausing, “We should dance.”

I balked. “Oh, no … I mean, not here …” Nobody around us danced. It wasn’t that kind of bar. I wasn’t even sure I could dance. I bowed my head and took a generous sip of my drink, only to splutter and almost choke on whatever evil concoction Reign had ordered. “What is that?” I wheezed.

“Whiskey.”

“Are you trying to kill me, or this another lame attempt at seduction?”

He winced, and hissed in through his teeth. “Ah, that night. I was … I am very sorry. You were getting under my skin. I know it’s not an excuse. I really didn’t want to hurt you, but you were designed to kill me, so I think I deserve points for restraint.” His smile was made all the more wicked by the slither of light glancing off sharp fae teeth. “Besides, I seem to remember you were enjoying yourself right up until I frightened you off.” He wiggled his fingers in the air and smiled behind a sip of drink.

Heat warmed my cheeks, or maybe it was the alcohol. I arched my eyebrows and laughed, looking away. “I’m sure I don’t remember that.”

“Your memory isn’t the most reliable.” His gaze dropped to the table between us, his smile dying on his lips. Was it mention of memories that killed the mood? My lack of memories? Or his several lifetimes’ worth?

The thought of collecting memories, only for them to die with me when my time was up, had my own smile fading away, no matter how hard I tried to keep it. I didn’t want to dwell on the bad, not while we had some time to explore the good. “Tell me something good about your home, not Under—Faerie.”

He stroked his glass with light fingertips, teasing beads of condensation into swollen droplets. “Faerie isn’t like anything you’ve known. There are cities there that shine like stars. Sights and scents that would have you on your knees and weeping … It is …” He threw his gaze high, searching for the right words, “Dazzling, intoxicating, terrifying.”

“Terrifying?”

His eyes focused somewhere distant. “You already know we aren’t what we seem. Well, Faerie is the same, so beautiful, you’d cry tears of blood. So enticing, you’d sacrifice everything you’ve ever loved to stay one more day.”