City of Fae

I shook my head at my reflection and frowned at the bruise over my right eye. It could have been much worse. The FA didn’t mess around. The general could easily have gutted Reign right in front of me. I might not like him, but that didn’t mean I wanted to witness his death. How had Reign spirited us away from the general? He hadn’t exactly been bright eyed and bushy tailed when I’d found him.


A curious tingling danced up my tight arm. I shook it out. Reign had taken my draíocht. It took more than one touch for the fae to bespell their victims, but that single touch was enough to seed suggestion in weak minds. The Trinity Law had been drummed into me since I could remember. Look, but don’t touch. Touch but don’t feel. Feel, but don’t love. Three levels of protection. If you failed those safeguards, you could essentially wave good-bye to free will and throw yourself at the feet of your new fae master. Fae bespellment wasn’t nearly as rare as the government wanted it to be. Hence the TV campaigns, press adverts, and election promises.

“Do you need help?” Even his smooth voice held a smirk as it drifted below my closed door.

Opening the door, I stepped around his tall, languid self, propped against the wall. Cats had that “you must step around me” attitude. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kick you out right now.”

“You’re curious.”

“No …” My tone amped up, undermining my lie. Damn it, he already had me pegged. Maybe he wasn’t just a pretty face. Or I was just easy to read. “How did we get back here?”

“After absorbing your draíocht, I jumped us out of there.” He made it sound perfectly reasonable.

“You jumped us? I didn’t know fae could do that.” What a thought that was. Fae who could appear and disappear at will. They were already twice as strong as us, fast too.

He smirked, probably catching the concern on my face. “They can’t. I’m special. Add it to my exceedingly long list of talents.”

I’d be sure to do that once I’d submitted my story. His devoted fans would love that little tidbit of information, especially if he’d used it to rattle the authorities. The fae weren’t meant to use their abilities in public, like stealing draíocht. If reported, the FA revoked their roaming rights, essentially putting them under house arrest. Was that why the FA were after him? Had he been flaunting his “special” attributes? Clearly, Reign was either looking for trouble or running from it, and I was going to figure out which.

“Risky … ?” I baited.

With a shrug, he pushed off the wall and toured my tiny apartment. “It’s not something I make a habit of doing. It quickly exhausts me.” He paused by the cold fireplace and braced an arm on the mantelpiece, bowing his head. “Have you lived here long?” he asked.

“A year.”

“You don’t get out much?”

“Huh?”

“Your home is sparse.” He gestured at the room. “Cold. No photos. Nothing personal.”

I followed the tracks of his gaze with my own. Sure, my place was functional. A couch, a TV, what else did a person need? I shrugged a shoulder. “It’s a place.”

“Boyfriend?”

“That’s none of your business.” Wasn’t I meant to be the one asking the questions? “You just say what you want, don’t you. You can’t go around asking people personal things.”

“Why?” His eyes sparkled.

“It’s … personal. I don’t know you.”

“We should change that. Ask me anything.”

Finally. “What were you doing on the platform last night?”

“Trying not to die. You?”

“I got fired. That’s why I was out so late. I needed to clear my head.” I stopped myself before I could say too much. “Were you really dying?”

“Yes. We can’t replenish draíocht like you can.” He stooped at the coffee table and flipped through a copy of Hello magazine. “I should point out, that in all other areas, I excel.” A soft little curl of laughter escaped his lips as something in the magazine caught his eye. “They always get the facts wrong. If they cared to ask me, I’d tell them the truth. I didn’t sleep with her. I remember her though … Her disgusted expression when I said no.”

“Good for you,” I mumbled. “And the fae with the dagger? The general. Is he dead?”

He straightened, article forgotten, and frowned, ruining the proud lines of his face. “Unfortunately not; the FA are formidable. The general even more so. He’s not someone I’d have picked to piss off.” He rubbed his neck, brushing over the spider tattoo. “At full strength I could beat him, but not as I am. I don’t suppose you’d like to help with that … Share a little more of yourself?” He smoothed his voice, and asked with a purr, “Top me up?”

I dipped my chin and glared. “I’m not one of your doe-eyed fangirls.”

“Didn’t think so.” He’d made his way around my living room and returned to my kitchen to resume his search of the cupboards. “I need food. Do you have anything to eat in this barren place?”

“Wow, you just say what you think, don’t you?”

“It’s a talent.” He opened the fridge. “Among many other extraordinary talents I exhibit. Ask me what I can do with my tongue.”