City of Fae (13 page)

He brought his glass to his lips and tasted his wine while I tried to ignore how the tip of his tongue skimmed his lower lip and how such a tiny gesture could sharpen my breaths.

“He has nothing to worry about.” His soft words, spoken barely above a whisper, scattered a flight of pleasurable shivers through me. “If I wanted you,” he drawled, “I’d have had you already, American Girl.”

Finally he dropped his gaze and refilled my glass from the bottle.
If I wanted you …
I didn’t imagine his heated glances or how his words meant one thing but the sound of them alluded to something else entirely.

I gulped a knot of nerves and smiled brightly. “Exactly.” My chest tightened, and I understood the second law.
Don’t feel
. Oh man, I felt all right. I felt how his words sparkled lust through my veins as surely as the alcohol would loosen inhibitions. Damn, where was my conviction? Gone, along with my common sense apparently.

He leaned around me, placing the wine bottle on the table, deliberately brushing against my arm. I stood still, refusing to move or give an inch. It wouldn’t work on me. I would not let him see how far gone I was. He wouldn’t win this battle of wills. I would beat the bespellment, beat him.

When he straightened, he’d somehow moved closer without moving at all, filling my view with undeniably seductive fae. “If I wanted you bespelled I could have caught you from the first touch.” He bowed his head, tilting to the side, inquisitive, alluring … seeking. I blinked at him, sure he’d see me trembling, heard my breath racing. His eyes flashed with a predatory gleam, pupils darkening while the three distinct colors bled free. “Had I wanted you, you wouldn’t be able to fight it.”

Snatching my senses back, I turned and slipped away, leaving my glass on the table. He knew exactly how to distract me, but the salacious thoughts he’d summoned couldn’t happen. “So, you don’t want me, and I don’t want you. I’m glad we cleared that up.” My voice quivered. This wouldn’t do. I was not going to let him affect me. Lifting my gaze I speared him with what I hoped to be a chilled glare. “Why was my bedroom filled with spiders?” Ah, there was the steel I knew I was capable of. If I stuck to the questions, the facts. I could fight this, whatever this was.

“She’s either sending her spiders to observe or retrieve you.” He tossed his head back, downed his wine, and poured himself a second glass. “I wish I knew why.” He smiled a thin, guarded smile. “Things would be so much easier if I knew why,” he said, and draped himself against the bookcase, leaning hard, shoulders slouched.

So many questions bubbled in my head, all clamoring to be free. He dropped his chin and closed his eyes. His soft sigh said enough. He rubbed at his face and blinked at me, refocusing, and tacked on one of his charm-the-crowd smiles in an effort to mask his fatigue. “Why don’t you tell me the truth, Alina? Save me the trouble of trying to second-guess the queen? You know something.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t know anything. If I did, why would I keep it from you?”

“Good question. Why would you?”

I hesitated and frowned back at him. “Why don’t you trust me?”

“Why would I? The queen could have asked me to get whatever she wants from you, but she hasn’t. She said you’re hers—”

“Maybe she didn’t mean me—”

“Something isn’t right. There’s something about you … Something …” His gaze speared into me. He believed I was lying and I had no idea how to convince him otherwise.

“How come you show up just when I need saving?” I asked.

“Would you rather I didn’t?”

“You have to agree it’s suspicious.”

He blinked and tilted his head, considering his reply. “I’ve been watching you.”

Creepy. “Like a stalker?”

“Exactly like that.” His smile bloomed and the tiredness sloughed off him. He straightened, and pushed off the bookcase as though moments before he hadn’t looked about ready to call it a night and hit the sack. “You should look up more. Think like a fae. You’d have seen me if you paid attention to your surroundings.” He grinned, obviously enjoying my frown. “You have to admit I’m useful to have around.”

About as useful as a pet cat, and just as reliable. “Why are you watching me? I mean, you said it yourself, you’ve got better things to do. You’re on the run. Shouldn’t
you
leave London?” Placing his glass on the table he closed the distance between us. I backed up as he stalked me down, and bumped against a couch.

He laughed a delicious rumbling laughter and turned his face away. “Leave London?” It wasn’t humor in his eyes when he faced me, but a sharper, harder look. He shook his head and flashed me a forced smile. “I can’t leave.”

He stood too close, crowding my senses, filling my vision, blurring my thoughts. I clutched at the back of the couch, digging my fingers in as I fought through the distraction of him. This was like in the street, when he’d tried to challenge me, but this time there was a wildness in him. This time, his game was dangerous. Questions. The questions helped ground me.

“Reign, what did you do at that party?” I whispered, as a glimpse of the spider tattoo beneath his collar caught my attention.

Where I expected to see regret on his face, I saw hunger and raw, barely restrained need. That look tunneled through my defenses and broke open the part of me that wanted this, had always wanted it. “We’re all prisoners,” he whispered so close his breath tickled my cheek, “of a kind.” Easing his body against mine, he said, “The exiled fae. We’re the mistakes, the forgotten, the denied.” The warm, hard press of him tore out what little conviction remained. I forgot the questions, forgot how I was meant to be keeping him at arm’s length, because up close—so damn close I could taste him on my lips—I could no more fight what I felt than any other fae victim. He was in my blood, he was the sweet poison seducing my mind. “We were sent here like debris swept under a rug,” he said, breathing the words, pouring them into me. “We’re too dangerous to be allowed free roam in Faerie. The queen isn’t even the worst of us. I … we’re not beautiful; we’re not the things you think.” His lips brushed against the pulse on my neck. “We are the monsters you secretly fear us to be.”

He snatched my hand, found the cut on my thumb, and brought it to his lips before I could even consider fighting. His eyes locked on mine; daring me to stop him, offering this one last chance to say no. I couldn’t. I should. I should have done a lot of things. It was wrong. It couldn’t happen. The Trinity Law …
I should be the good girl. Should walk away.
But I hadn’t managed it yet, and had no intention of saving myself then either. It was already too late for me.

He curled the tip of his tongue around my thumb and licked at the cut. Liquid heat spilled through my veins. I clung onto the couch behind, needing the support before I grabbed him and succumbed to all the wicked desires my mind conjured. A tight groan slipped from my lips. His eyes widened. He tensed, pressing against me. I couldn’t escape, and didn’t want to. He was the danger in the dark, the cruel allure we all secretly desired. He’d caught me, and I wanted it. Lust ran deep, surged high. He plucked my thumb free and bit into his lower lip, tasting me there, teasing me with a glance designed to unravel my restraint. “You taste like us.”

He said it like an accusation, but didn’t give me time to process his words. His hand burrowed into my hair and tightened into a possessive hold that might have hurt had I not hooked an arm around him and yanked him tight enough against my body to lose my breath. It wasn’t a kiss, nothing as sweet as that. I tore into his lips and tongue, tasting, nipping, stealing, and he responded like a man starved of me. It was wild, insane, wrong. And I wanted more of him. Every forbidden inch of him. He broke free as a low growl of restraint filtered through his clenched teeth. He clasped my face in both hands and breathed hard, glaring into me. A tiny fragment of doubt broke away from the madness, just a hint that things weren’t what they seemed, but the need in his eyes, the hunger of his kiss, and the touch … Those things swept the doubt away. His touch on my face poured the tingling sensation into my skin and stole tremors from me. He nudged a knee between my legs, holding me rigid while trailing warm kisses from my lips down the line of my jaw to my neck. He dropped his hands low, letting one play down my back, while the other hooked around my thigh and hitched my leg up. Every heated inch of him burned against the thin fabric of the dress. I trembled as though cold, maybe even afraid of him, of me, of us, but it didn’t stop me from sinking my hands over his broad shoulders and slipping his shirt down his back. I flicked my tongue over his spider tattoo and felt him shiver.

He gasped—a jolt darting through him—and hissed in through his teeth. “Alina. I …”

I didn’t want words. Words were complicated. What I needed from him was simple. I slipped my hand around his waist and sunk it low, holding him flush against me.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke as though words pained him; dragging them up from inside a growl.

Sorry? Confusion slowed racing thoughts. Wait, what was happening? Reign’s breathing held a ragged edge. I turned my face toward his, lips brushing his locked jaw. He trembled, but the change in him was obvious, even to my lust-soaked mind. When his shame-filled gaze met mine there was something wrong with his eyes. They weren’t the same beautiful butterfly eyes I’d come to admire. Bright crimson flooded his iris. I stepped back, but he slid a hand up my arm, and poured numbness in his wake. Weakness rolled over me, sapping me of energy. He was stealing my draíocht; again.

I yanked my arm back. “Hey! Reign, goddamn it …”

“I needed to know.” He whirled away, staggering a few steps before bumping into the table.

Slumped against the couch, I rubbed some feeling back into my arm. He hadn’t taken a lot, not like at the station, but he’d still damn well stolen it without my permission. Once was an accident. But twice? “What is this, Reign?”

He shrugged his shirt back over his shoulders and braced his arms on the table. Bowing his head, his shoulders quivered, his body as aroused as mine. So why did he have to spoil it by stealing from me? “You taste like her,” he said softly.

“Screw you. Taste like who? Shay? What is this?” I shoved off the couch, intent on forcing him to meet my eyes. He turned his head and settled a sorry gaze on me, his eyes returned to the normal fae tricolors. He looked as washed out and exhausted as when I’d seen him on the platform. “You’re weak, you need draíocht. Were you …” My voice fractured. “Were you seducing me to feed?”

“No, I …” He struggled with his reply, and sighed, “Yes. But you don’t understand.” He winced. “It’s not what it seems. I had to find a way to taste you.”

“Taste me?” My fingers curled into fists.

“The blood. I need to know what you are.”

“What I
am
is pissed off. Goddamn it, Reign, you nearly … We nearly …” How many times had we touched? What had I been thinking? He wanted my draíocht. He was measuring me up for his next victim. The come-on, the alcohol. He’d even dressed me in Shay’s dress; maybe it helped him fantasize. Was this how he operated? Did he bring his victims back to his opulent pad, seduce them, steal their draíocht, bespell them, keep them.

A chill washed over me. I brushed at my bare arms. He’d just deliberately manipulated me, used the bespellment, knowing I couldn’t deny it. He’d used me. “How many people have you bespelled here?” My voice came out hard, flat, like cool iron.

Reign straightened, but it didn’t last. He drifted away, and resting an arm on the bookshelf, he pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“How many?!”

He sighed, and cast his gaze toward the ceiling, like I was the one who frustrated him. “It doesn’t matter now. None of this matters.”

“It matters to me!”

“I don’t bespell anyone. It never gets that far. I …” He gritted his teeth, twitching a muscle in his jaw. “It’s not something I can control. None of us can. We need it. I make it brief, but stop the process before it goes too deep.”

“How many?”

Blinking rapidly, he tossed a throwaway gesture at the room. “I don’t know. You’re young.” His lips skewed into a bitter smile. “I’ve had a long time to collect mistakes.”

“Ten?”

His throat worked as he swallowed. “What does it matter?”

Potent rage settled like lead in my gut. “There’s no mention in the press of your victims. So either you keep it very quiet—”

“Goddamn it, Alina, you just don’t quit with the questions!”

“How many, Reign?”

He crossed his arms, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. “Hundreds.”

Dread knotted my insides. “You hurt hundreds of people just so you could get your kicks?”

He snorted and tossed his gaze about the room. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. If we don’t take what we need … we die. Humans replenish draíocht. We don’t. In Faerie we never needed to. We’re cut off from our lifeblood. Faerie is draíocht. Taking the dregs of your draíocht is the only way we can survive here.”

“But you’re hurting people.”

His grin cut deep. “I don’t
hurt
anyone. I don’t enslave anyone. I wouldn’t have hurt you, if … it hadn’t … If I hadn’t … Fuck, Alina … Please, just …” He speared his hands into his hair. “I’m just trying to protect you.”

Bullshit. “The only thing I need protecting from is you!”

He smiled that stupid placating smile. “You don’t know how right you are.”

“Is that what you tell your victims? That it’s for them? For their own good?”

His lip rippled in a snarl. “It’s not like that. They’re not victims. My assistant has to wade through the fan mail asking me to bespell them. They want it. I give them a night they won’t forget and send them on their way. I’m careful to only take a little, like with you. I rarely let it take hold.”

There was so much wrong with that picture, and he couldn’t even see it. “You’re taking advantage of them. Of me.”

“You? I couldn’t take advantage of you. You’re just as bad as I am.” He barked a cruel hoarse laughter. “Yes, I do take advantage of them. I have to. Take your judgmental crap elsewhere.” He pushed off the bookcase and stalked me down, staring hard. “Women beg for more, Alina, I give them what they need and take a little in return. Is that so terrible for you and your human ideals to get your head around?”