I peer down at his fingers wrapped around my wrist, where my pulse is humming with the energy of being so close to him. “She’s not going to stop seeing him, no matter what you say. She could get hurt, and there’s not a damn thing I can do.”
Tristan lets go of my wrist and slips his fingers through mine. “This isn’t your fight, and she’s not your responsibility.”
I sit beside him. “She’s my best friend. You guys are going to war, and I have no idea what’s going to happen. It seems like she’s not even concerned about the consequences of her relationship. Why would she risk that for one person?”
“You’d be surprised what some people would do for one person.”
I sigh. “Are you really going to throw her in prison?”
He turns toward me and our eyes meet. “Are you asking me to let her break one of our laws?” He regards me with a thoughtful expression. “I can’t do that, Aurora. I’m sorry.”
I nod, understanding he’s looking at the bigger picture. He has the responsibility to take care of his people, and until proven otherwise, Evan is a threat.
Thrusting my fingers through my still-damp hair, I blow out a breath. “You haven’t told me why you’re here.”
He wets his lips. “I’ve been looking into your family history.”
“As most stalkers do,” I quip, trying to lighten the mood in hopes that will ease the tendrils of anxiety wrapping around me.
His eyes glimmer. “You wanted more information, so I did some research.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “You’re saying you did this for me?”
“Yes, and because of my own interest in the matter.”
“Okay.” I glance at the floor, wiggling my toes. “What did you find?” I’m terrified to hear the answer. It seems crazy to think that I have fae ancestors, but after the way Tristan’s blood affected me, it’s hard to deny my family’s past.
“I’m not sure what you’re hoping to hear. I don’t want to disappoint you.”
My stomach drops. “Tell me, Tristan. Please.”
He nods. “Your father’s fae ancestor had her daughter’s magic deactivated, which is why it didn’t continue down the bloodline.”
I frown, confusion coursing through me. “You said I’d been touched by fae magic, but it was dormant.”
“You’re right. Because the fae whose magic was repressed was female, it only affects females in the Marshall bloodline, and you’re the first since that fae.”
I scratch the back of my neck. “So I’m fae, but not?”
He shakes his head. “You are one hundred percent human, Aurora.”
“Because some old witch or something took my family’s magic?”
His brows draw closer. “That’s right.”
I wet my lips. “Okay. Are any of them . . . ?”
“There’s no one left in your bloodline. They were lost when our world was destroyed.”
My chest aches. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. I would know if they were still alive, especially after meeting you and sensing their dormant magic.”
“If you could sense it, what was to stop any other fae from doing the same? Were they not concerned about that when they screwed with magic?”
He shakes his head. “I wish I had more answers for you.”
The darkness under his eyes and his tired expression makes me think he’d been hoping for more, too. If I have no fae ancestors left, there’s little chance at getting the dark fae to accept me—for my lineage to protect me from those who are against my knowledge of the fae, and the freedom Tristan granted me even though he couldn’t wipe my memories.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “At least now I know.” I meet his gaze. “Thank you for looking into it for me.”
The weather shifts as the daylight hours become shorter, and midterms pass in a whirlwind of studying and hand cramps from writing so much. I’m so sick of lectures and note-taking that my Friday afternoon at the office with Skylar is a reprieve from the chaos. We’ve been working nonstop for hours and have made progress on the charity gala.
Skylar goes to have the financial guy approve some things, leaving me to put the finishing touches on the menu to fax to the caterer.
I glance up from my laptop when Max pops his head into the office.
“Come on, blondie.”
“Come on where?”
“It’s almost ten o’clock.” He takes a step forward and leans in the doorway. “You were done for the day hours ago.”
“Okay . . .”
“We’re going out. Grab your shit, and let’s go.”
“You want me to go out with you?” I arch a brow. “Did Skylar spike your coffee?”
He offers a little fake laugh and shoots me a pointed look. “No, but she told me to invite you, so I am. Plus, it’ll make Oliver feel more comfortable.”
I bark out a laugh. “Wait. You mean my Oliver?”
He rolls his eyes. “Uh, sure.”
“Did Skylar invite him? She better not be screwing with him to get to me.”
Max crosses his arms and sighs so softly I almost don’t catch it. “Skylar didn’t invite him. I did.”
I stare at him for a few beats. “Oh,” I say. “I didn’t know you were—”
“Gay?” he cuts in with a slight smirk.
“Into humans,” I say.
He shrugs. “Just because I don’t like you most of the time doesn’t mean I don’t like humans. You don’t represent them all, blondie.”
I flip him off. “How do you know him?”
“He was fake-dating your fae bestie, and I met him on campus while I was looking into something for a friend.”
My brows shoot up. The urge to make a joke about Max actually having friends is on the tip of my tongue, but instead, I say, “I know it’s not against the rules to be with a human, but I’m still surprised.” Oliver and Max? I try to picture it, but I can’t.
He laughs, and I’m pretty sure it’s the first time I’ve ever heard something so genuine come out of his mouth. “Exactly. There are rules to protect us from being exposed, but none that explicitly say ‘don’t fuck the humans,’ so I think I’m safe.”
I press my lips together against a smile. “All right. So you’re saying Oliver doesn’t know about the fae?”
He nods. “And I plan to keep it that way.”
“Good,” I concede. “Does Tristan know about you and him?”
“He does.”
“Okay,” I murmur. “Where are we going then?”
He grins, another thing that shocks me. “Grab your things. The car is waiting out front.”
I close my computer. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Max rolls his eyes. “Relax, blondie. We’re going to a bar, not skydiving.” He backs out of the office, and I stare at the empty doorway.
Sitting around a small, round bar table with Max and Skylar isn’t something I ever thought I would be doing, and yet, here I am, sipping on my virgin margarita. With work scheduled in the morning, I figured I’d better play it safe. Max and Skylar don’t seem to care.
The music is loud, but not so loud that we can’t hear each other speak. Not that any of us say much. The large room is lit with dim track lighting and spotlights from the stage at the front.
Skylar glances at her nails and frowns. “This is boring.”
Max takes a long swig of his beer and rolls his eyes. “You’re just cranky. Finish your drink, and you’ll feel better.”