City of Fae

“Of course.” The corners of my lips curled into something resembling a smile and my fingers twitched. I needed to distract him, anger him, if I had any hope of retrieving my blades. I searched for memories I could use against him. “It’s a little late to throw stones in glass houses. You’re the one who killed Warren.”


Sparks flared in his eyes. His expression twisted, lips rising in a snarl, eyes burning. There was the beast, just below the surface. The confidence he wore as armor melted away. His shoulders dropped, and for a moment he looked through me, unseeing. I sprang off my back foot and lunged, veering at the last moment to twist and snatch a blade free. He turned, quick as a coiled spring, and had the remaining dagger out in the same movement. The queen’s dark touch spilled her intent into my mind. I hunched, readying my stance, and grinned.

Sovereign straightened to his full fae height, shoulders back, dagger bare, and gave the fingers of his free hand a flick, beckoning me forward. “You want a piece of me, American Girl? I’ve fed, satisfied, practically brimmed … My victim thanked me when it was done. You won’t find me easy.”

Rage, white-hot, scorched my cool thoughts. “Bastard.”

“Jealous?”

Yes. What? Wait … No, these weren’t my thoughts. “Where’s your victim now?”

“Discarded.” He jerked an eyebrow. “Tossed aside. The same as Faerie did to us.”

Damn him. An image flowed through my mind, unwanted but undeniable; him, entwined with another, touching, teasing with that wicked tone of voice, words enticing. A sneer touched my lips.

Humor glinted in his eyes, just for a fraction of a second before it vanished, making me wonder if I’d seen it at all. “Maybe there’s a little of Alina left in there? A part that feels?”

He was trying to trick me. Deliberately baiting me in an attempt to retrieve the part of me who cared. Two could play that game. “She holds the reins of your nightmare … What do you dream of, Sovereign? Of our queen?”

The humor in his eyes snuffed out. “You don’t know me.”

“So you keep saying.” I struck. He blocked the flash of my dagger with the edge of his. Metal sang as we came together, blades grating. He pushed, driving me back, but where he snarled through gritted teeth, I could have laughed. He would die. He had more to lose, more distractions. I had nothing. My purpose, my reason for breathing, was now. This moment belonged to me.

My back hit a dresser, toppling its contents all over the floor. I brought my knee up, but he dodged it and cracked his elbow across my cheekbone. Pain flushed across my face. I gasped. I’d seen him fight the FA. I knew what he was capable of. “How much of you is the dog?” I grunted, driving strength into my arms to shove him off.

He staggered and glared, chin dipped, eyes fierce. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“Then perhaps it’s time to have the puppy put down.” I tasted blood and spat. Pain fuelled the thrill strumming through me. This was where I was meant to be. Everything I lived for, everything I’d been created for, came down to this moment.

“Alina was twice the woman you are.”

“Alina was broken.”

He blinked out of existence—gone—and in the next moment I felt the press of his cool blade against my throat and the press of his warm body against my back. “Why do you still wear my coat if you’re the queen’s stone-cold killer?” he whispered, fluttering the words against my neck.

My lips parted, the reply balanced on the tip of my tongue, but the words failed to come. I meant to say the coat meant nothing, but even as the reply formed in my head, so did the memory of him awkwardly handing me the garment by the docks and then almost plucking me off my feet to hold me close. And with that memory, others tumbled forth, of his indecent chuckle, the way his lithe fingers danced, how he moved with an impossible combination of solid confidence and liquid grace. His breath played on the skin of my neck as I remembered exactly how I’d kissed him on the rooftop, how he’d told me all he wanted was something real, and how his touch left me breathless. The impossible contradiction of Reign assaulted my memories, discarded the debris of my old manufactured life and replaced it with the bright potential of an existence I’d carved for myself.

“Alina …”

Every inch of him molded against my back and I forgot the kiss of the dagger at my throat. With every breath he pressed closer. He curled his free arm around my waist, holding me tight, preventing my escape. I wasn’t sure if he trembled, or I did. Still I fought, battling on all fronts with my own nature, the rules I must follow, the desires that weren’t mine, and the darkness that sought to drown me. But he smelled spellbinding, sweet, intoxicating, delicious. It wouldn’t take much to let go, to allow myself this tiny lapse, to lean back and relax in his arms. For just a little while, I could be Alina again.