Authors: Melissa Marr
Tags: #Romance, #Juvenile Fiction, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fiction
Wicked Lovely (35 page)
"Winter wine?
Why?"
Seth laughed. "Niall said you owe him for getting that." Despite a daunting look from Aislinn, he winked and added, "It's all good."
Then Aislinn stood up and slipped her arm around Seth's waist. "I'll keep my cell on. Tavish knows I'm on tap if there are any problems."
"You're both leaving?" Keenan sat up. He trusted his queen, but this was growing stranger and stranger. "I'm to be trapped here then?"
Aislinn and Seth exchanged another curious look. Then Seth pulled his jacket on.
"I'm out." He grinned at Keenan, not with the lingering tension that the mortal seemed to be wrestling with since Aislinn's ascension, but with genuine amusement. "See you in a few days."
After Aislinn shut the door behind him, she smiled gently at Keenan.
"Happy Solstice.
It's safe. We even had Tavish check on it for us."
She hugged him briefly, and then she slipped away, leaving him alone and confused.
Trapped.
She trapped me.
He paced to the window and watched his queen leave with her mortal lover.
Now what do I do?
Donia let herself in with the key Seth had given her. She heard Keenan pacing, heavy footsteps as he moved angrily, like a caged thing. It didn't frighten her, that temper, that dangerous energy. For the first time, they'd meet with equal strength, equal power,
equal
passion.
I
hope.
She slipped off her boots, folded her wrap, and uncorked two of the bottles of wine. She'd just poured the first glass when he came out to the front room.
"Don?"
"Umm?"
She held out the glass. When he didn't take it, she set it down on the counter.
"What are you…
"
He seemed unusually nervous, watching her warily. "Are you looking for Aislinn?"
"No." She poured a second glass, out of her bottle. She'd need to remember to send a token to Niall for thinking to procure it.
"I've seen Ash." She held up the house key, dangled the tiny skull key ring where he could see it. It felt good to have the control, the power.
I
could get used to this.
Ruling the Winter Court had come easily; she could be just, fair, to her fey.
But having power over Keenan—that was a dangerous thing.
She wanted him to sway to her wishes as she'd done so long to his. She licked her lips and was rewarded by a flash of darkness in those summer eyes.
He moved closer, hesitantly, but the look in his eyes was hopeful. "Why are you here?"
"For you."
She sipped her drink, casually, calm as she'd never been able to be around him.
He stepped closer again.
"For me?"
She set down her glass and reached back to the tie that held her skirt together.
His breath caught in his throat. Sunlight flared from his skin, glorious and brilliant.
"For me."
Snowflakes swirled around her as she reached out for his hand. "Yes."
And he
smiled,
that impossible earthshaking smile that had haunted her fantasies for longer than he should ever know, than he would ever know.
Summer and
Winter
must dash. We'll never be able to…but to try.
She wrapped her hand around his wrist and pulled him closer.
Every bit of her body burned as if she were nothing more than an ice carving, ready to melt from the touch of the sun. Her ice rose to meet that sun, wrapping them both in a snow squall.
I
love you.
She didn't say it, not this time. She stood as his equal now; she wasn't going to risk tipping that balance in the hopes that he'd say the words that would quell the murmur of restless confusion inside.
I still love you, have always loved you.
She wouldn't say it, but she thought it over and over as the flowers blossomed in his eyes, as the flare of sunlight made her tremble.
"Mine. You're finally mine," he whispered. Then his lips came down on hers.
She wanted to laugh for joy, weep for the sizzle of ice and heat as they fell into the snowbank at their feet.
This is far better than negotiating the terms of our peace.
It would sway his wishes when they did negotiate, she knew it.
It's not why I'm here.
But in the whispering part of her mind, she admitted that it was reason enough to be there, that she would be a fool not to take advantage of it.
"I thought I'd never have…" Keenan was murmuring soft words, sounding lost. "My Donia, finally all mine."
The snow melted, steamed away like vapor, as they touched.
"Shh," she covered his lips with hers, unable to agree to his foolish words.
Aislinn stepped carefully over the icy ground. The guards she'd had follow them were waiting alongside Seth. They were still unfamiliar faces, on loan from Donia for the winter months while the summer fey were trapped inside.
"No one disturbs them." She let her gaze drift over the guards, looking at each individually.
They waited, as quiet as winter nights.
She smiled as she added, "For any reason. If there's any problem, call me."
Aislinn nodded and held out a hand to Seth. "Come on. Let's go introduce you to Grams. If she can accept this"— she gestured around them at the faeries and at herself—"she can accept you."
He quirked his eyebrow.
"You sure?
Niall said I could bunk there."
"Trust me." She grabbed his hand.
He looked at his ripped jeans and battered jacket. "Maybe we could stop by the loft at least. I could change. …"
"No." Aislinn linked her fingers with his. "I showed her the other college apps you picked up for us. She thought we could go over them."
His eyes lit up, and he pulled her closer. "I like the philo program at State best. They have a good poli-sci program for you too."
She laughed. "We can relocate if we want. Keenan and Grams are both petitioning for that."
Behind and in front of them, the winter guards spread out. None of the summer fey could come out in the blowing white drifts. Only the winter fey and dark fey played in the still night, solemn even in their revelry as she passed them—though more than a few snowballs sizzled into steam as the less easily intimidated fey saw her.
Even after almost three months, they weren't any less terrifying, not really, but Aislinn felt safe for the first time in her life.
It's not anywhere near perfect, but it can be.
Using Seth's hand for leverage, she pulled him closer. "Let's go home."
They walked through the snowy streets, her skin glowing enough to keep them both warm. The rest—her fears, the court's demands, Keenan's worries—it would all wait. When the Summer Queen rejoiced, her fey would too.
And so she rejoiced, letting that feeling spread out to her fey, feeling it echo back from Keenan, seeing it reflected in Seth's eyes.
It's not perfect, but it will be.
WICKED LOVELY
Six Intriguing Facts about Melissa Marr
1.
It's
important to me to know how to spell a person's name when I meet him or her. If it's a particularly striking or rhythmically appealing name, I want to know etymology too.
2.
My favorite color is purple. All shades of purple…because, um, because … I dunno. I wanted a purple bedroom as a kid. I have more purple frippery than any girl probably needs. I have a secret desire to have purple eyes too, but I expect I'll grow out of that one someday.
3.
Hearing loud motorcycles or muscle cars makes me lose my train of thought.
4.
I'd get tattooed every day if I wouldn't run out of skin too soon. Body art fascinates me, and the process enthralls me.
5.
I don't eat seafood or wild game ever. Simply
seeing
it disturbs me.
6. I have
an
obsession with the number six…I've requested flying in seats or on flights or at times with the number six. I try to do significant things on a day or in a way that I can find a six. My tattoos have sixes (twelve inches tall or six lilies). If debating between two houses or events or
anything,
I look for a six to make a decision.
Chatting with Melissa Marr
Have you always wanted to be a writer?
Yes. I was terrified to try though. I had a plan wherein I'd try to write when I turned forty, but my spouse suggested I might try sooner. He's amazingly supportive and has the mad notion that I can do anything. I keep waiting for him to realize how many flaws and limitations I have, but he keeps cheering me on. So, I gave writing a go earlier than I'd expected.
What people or events influenced you while you were writing
Wicked Lovely?
I don't know that text influences happen
during
the writing itself. On the other hand, if you mean what influenced me to have the courage to try writing the novel? My spouse, my kids, my parents, a few close friends—they kept telling me I could do this. They believed in the text and my storytelling. I had no expectation or even hope of things turning out so amazingly well. These days I spend a bit of time telling these people "I was wrong. You were right." It's good fun.
Wandering streets and museums with your camera is an important part of your creative process. In all your wanderings, do you have a favorite place?
It's not a place, but a feeling I seek. I tend to love the
feeling
I get in places that are desolate or stark or riddled with surprising bursts of beauty. The beach (especially off season), deserts, Sunday afternoon in city business districts … If I had to pick just two spots, it would be the San Diego area and the Mojave Desert.
Did any of these places end up in
Wicked Lovely?
Everywhere to some degree…San Diego has an obvious presence—the fountain with Donia is
What character did you enjoy writing the most?
Irial was my favorite perspective to write…um, but he's in my next book,
Ink Exchange.
My second favorite was Donia or Keenan (depending on the day). I guess to write, I have to be half in love with each of them. Those are the three who had my heart from the first keystroke, but of course, there were days I loved each of the others to obsessive degrees too. I think, though, Irial and Donia and Keenan are the ones I'm constantly in love with.
Seth seems to be any girl's dream guy. Was he based on a real person?
Bits and pieces of people swirl together to create characters.
In my mind, he has the reading tastes of a close friend; he has the charm of another friend. Physically, he has the body art of several friends. None of that was on purpose. In retrospect, though, I can see their fingerprints.
I've been amused by some readers' comments that he's "too perfect," especially when such a remark came from one of the guys who influenced me in Seth's creation. There are just a lot of awesome guys out there. Of course, we also see Seth through Ash's eyes, so we see him as she sees him.
When we look at the people whom we love, we see (or should see) their radiance.
Seth's radiance is dazzling because that's how Ash sees him. If you looked through my eyes at the men and women I've loved, you wouldn't see their flaws, but their brilliance. So that's how I wrote Seth.
You have a background teaching literature. Did years of being surrounded by great writing influence your own writing in any way?
It certainly made me self-critical. When one teaches the masters of prose and poetry, it's pretty obvious that anything else will pale in comparison. Writing, for me, involves admitting that what I aspire to and what I can do right now are pretty far apart. I'll only make progress if I try doing it though, so I remind myself that I'm just a baby at this. Hopefully, I'll get better. If not, I'll move on to a new career.
