His eyes stare into mine as he waves a hand to dismiss Max. “Leave us.”
Max nods once and takes off down another hallway with his head hung low.
The man blocks the elevator, which is the only way out of here—the only one I can see, anyway. He cocks his head to the side.
“Move,” I demand, surprising myself by the harsh tone of my voice.
The man raises his brows; I’ve surprised him, too. “Where are you off to?” He sounds curious.
“I’m not going to die here,” I say, my determination clear.
“I’m glad to hear that.” His jaw is sharp and shadowed with stubble. He steps forward, bringing his hand toward my face, and huffs in annoyance when I flinch.
“Hands off! Who are you?”
“That doesn’t matter right now. Allow me? It will help.” He lifts his hand to my face again and gently holds me in place while his fingers brush along my jaw. The throbbing from before fades, leaving a warm, tingling sensation.
My eyes widen, and I turn my face away from his hand. “What the hell was that?” My heart is beating fast, but I try not to let the shock show on my face.
“You’re welcome,” he says dryly.
“Who are you?” I repeat.
“You may call me—”
“Tristan, there are more important things to deal with right now.” The woman from before is back with an armful of file folders.
He arches a brow at her. “I’ll deal with what I decide needs to be dealt with, Skylar.”
“Or you could let me out of here,” I suggest. “No need to deal with me at all.”
“The human makes an excellent suggestion, and that’s coming from me.”
Human?
Tristan makes a sound of frustration, a deep rumble in his throat, and then, with a subtle flick of his wrist, Skylar vanishes. She was standing no more than four feet from me, and now she’s gone.
My hand flies to my mouth, my mind reeling. “You . . .” I can’t form words. “What just . . . ?” The ability to finish a sentence escapes me. My eyes fill with tears, and I start shaking.
“Yes?” he murmurs.
I jerk my fingers through my hair, pressing them into my scalp, urging myself to wake up. “I’m going insane,” I groan. When Tristan steps forward, I reel back, my body springing into a defensive stance, my hands clenched into fists, ready to swing. “Did you kill her?” My voice cracks.
He chuckles. “I didn’t kill her. I simply shifted her back to her office. Aurora, I need you to listen to me,” he says in a calm voice. How does he know my name?
I shake my head adamantly. “You stay away from me!”
“I’m afraid that’s not going to work.”
In an instant, I lose it. I try to push him away, slamming my hands against his solid chest, but he doesn’t move an inch. “What the hell are you?” I demand through chattering teeth, fighting to keep tears back.
His eyes flicker across my face, and he sighs. “Calm down,” he says. “Take a deep breath.” He waits until I exhale before he continues. “I’m the leader of the fae, Aurora. I imagine that means nothing to you.” My brows rise, and he says, “I thought not.”
“Why am I here?” I ask and force myself to hold his steely gaze.
“That is the eternal question, isn’t it?”
“You said you’re the leader of the fae?” I’m no expert, but I did take a mythology class last year to boost my average. Tristan doesn’t look like what I think he should if my textbook is to hold any merit. No physical traits one might associate with a supposed supernatural being. He doesn’t have pointy ears or sharp teeth.
He’s lying. He must be. But then, how else could I explain his ability to heal my injuries? His ability to make that woman disappear?
He nods. “Precisely. However, I’m sure your idea of what we are is purely fictional.”
I shrug, weary of his proximity. As much as I want to deny everything, what I saw with my own eyes is making it difficult to discredit. It’s possible I’m suffering from some wicked hallucinations, or maybe Max did drug me at the party and again after he brought me here.
“I’m curious.” He cocks his head to the side, his light brown, almost blond hair, falling into his face. “What is it you believe you know about my kind? Care to offer any theories?”
I press my lips together. If I’m to believe what Tristan says—though I’m not sure what to think right now—maybe I can use this opportunity to get some information. Or at least play along until I figure out an escape plan. “I’ll tell you what I believe if you tell me why I’m here.”
“You wish to trade information? This could be amusing. Please, go ahead.”
“You’re immortal,” I say, recalling the basics of most inhuman creatures.
He offers a charming grin. “For the most part.”
“You can’t lie.”
The grin remains. “True, though we are masters at evading.”
“Iron is poisonous to you.”
The grin slips a bit. “Yes.”
“Why am I here?” I finally ask.
He looks at me, a thoughtful expression painting his features. “You don’t wish to know more about me?”
“I think I know enough. Your name is Tristan. If I’m to take what you’ve told me as the truth, you’re the leader of the fae. You made your girlfriend disappear—which I’m sure all guys would love to be able to do occasionally—and that other guy was trying to eat my emotions. How am I doing?”
His laugh is a deeply sensual, caressing sound, making my eyes widen. “Skylar is of no romantic significance to me. As for Max, you’re right about that. It’s one of the ways we feed.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “On emotions?”
“On human emotions,” he corrects. “And energy. The two are closely related. We feed by contact, or, if we’re in a large crowd of humans, we can absorb it without touching. So long as we don’t take too much energy, the only effect on the human is exhaustion.”
“Right . . .” I feel like my head is pretty damn close to exploding.
“It’s how the immortal stay immortal, Aurora.”
Immortality. This can’t be real. “I’m here—to be fed off of? Are you . . . ?” My voice trails off as my stomach churns.
Tristan shakes his head. “I’m not going to feed from you. That’s not why you’re here. Though I have to agree with your statement about Max. He gets carried away. I will speak with him.” He checks his watch and looks annoyed. “Later.”
“Lovely.” I sigh, tipping my head back against the wall. “If I wasn’t brought here to be a human vending machine, why am I here?” I’m still in denial, but the words tumble out of my mouth as if I believe what he’s been saying.
“It was an honest mistake.”
“Of course it was. You can’t lie,” I remark dryly.
He smirks. “It was a case of mistaken identity,” he explains. “Max was sent out to retrieve someone, and he mistook you for her.”
“When he discovered I wasn’t who he thought, he kidnapped me anyway?”
Tristan nods. “Yes, well, Max doesn’t always pay as much attention to detail as he should.”