City of Fae

Reign downed his drink and stood. “C’mon, we don’t have time to waste on regret.”


We left the bar and walked alongside Royal Victoria Dock with its newly built multi-million-dollar houses and sparkling hotel restaurants. Countless lights glittered on the dark water but we were the only ones crazy enough to be out in the cold. Autumn air nipped at my cheeks. It occurred to me that in all likelihood I wouldn’t see snow, or Christmas.

Reign shrugged off his coat and seemingly unsure whether or not to drape it around my shoulders, he handed it over. I tilted my head, trying to fathom what he was thinking. His eyes absorbed what little light there was, splintering it into tiny filaments of color. He wore that habitual hint of a smile, which could easily turn into a luscious curve of his lips, or might disappear entirely if I said the wrong thing. How could he look vulnerable while at the same time so damn confident? It defied nature’s laws. “Thanks.” I put on the coat, pulled it tight, and flipped the collars up. It smelled of autumn berries, sweet and seductive, with a darker masculine hint of cedar. Bunching the collar under my chin, I walked on and breathed in the familiar scent of him. There were memories I never wanted to lose. He was one of them. Time spent with him another.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you everything. I wanted to.” The breeze teased his voice around the dockside. We were alone, although the restaurants blazed to our left; diners laughing and conversing in silence behind the glass.

“I get it.” The breeze played with my hair, flicking it in front of my eyes. “You couldn’t trust me. I don’t trust me, so I can hardly blame you for that.” Coat hugged close, I turned to find him stopped by the dockside. He leaned to one side, all at once casual, but statuesque, as though the casual went only so deep, and below … below there was something else, something lying in wait. When I’d first seen him, the washed-up rock star fae out-cold on the platform, I’d thought him wasted. I’d assumed he was the cliché. Trashed hotel rooms, string of one-night stands. I thought I knew him. I no more knew him than I knew myself.

I attempted a smile and it finally stuck. “I’m sorry I only wanted you for your story.”

“So you want me for something else now?”

I rolled my eyes and turned away. “That’s not what I said.”

“My sparkling personality? Razor-sharp wit? The great hair? Chicks dig the hair.”

He was joking, he had to be; his ruffled locks were a ragged mess. I snorted, “You wish.” He really was in love with himself. That part I did know. “You should fire your stylist. I have better hair after falling out of bed.” I turned, about to remark on his dress sense, but found myself alone the dockside. “Reign?” The breeze carried with it the background din of London. “Oh, c’mon … I thought you only vanished in emergencies?”

“I didn’t vanish.” His words kissed my neck, wrenching a yelp from me. I spun, and found myself peering into his hypnotic eyes. Instincts told me to shove him away. He was fae. Poisonous. Deadly. Forbidden. The Trinity Law. But it was a lie, at least for me. Conditioning. Fiction constructed from whatever facts the queen had plucked from the whispers of her fae subjects and dumped into my head.

He clutched at the collars of his coat, lifting me onto my tiptoes. “I told you to look up more,” he purred. “Think like the fae; you are one.”

I watched the light veil across his face; how it licked across his lips and cast half his face in shadow, half hidden in the dark, and fear stuttered my heart. Fear of what was to come. Fear that I might never really live. Colors played in his eyes, eyes I could forget myself in. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“What for?”

“Tonight.”

He dragged a lascivious smile across soft, delectable lips. “You hardly know me, American Girl.” He whispered his next words so lightly they were barely there at all. “You wouldn’t thank me if you did.”

His lips skimmed mine. I nipped my bottom lip to keep from sealing the kiss. Kissing Reign was dangerous. “Nobody knows me.”

He released my coat and trailed his fingertips down the side of my face. Peculiar sparks tingled across my skin in the wake of his touch. If this wasn’t bespellment, then what was it? He brushed his thumb over my lower lip, his gaze intensely focused on the gentle exploration. “You feel that?” he asked.

I licked my lip, tasting the same sweetness as when I’d kissed him on the rooftop, and gave a little nod, afraid my voice might betray how my heart fluttered and thoughts fell silent.