“No,” he said, his voice nearly swallowed by the wind. “It’s yours now, Harbinger.”
He was giving it to her. Officially. Faith’s heart swelled inside her chest, and she wasn’t sure why it felt like some momentous occasion. For some odd reason, no words came to her. No witty response. Nothing at all. She could only sit there, happy and smiling, as they flew around the Eldertree.
It felt like an eternity passed before they landed, even though it was probably only fifteen minutes at the most. Her cheeks felt wind-chapped, but it was worth it, one hundred percent. Dracyrus was the first to slide off Fang’s back, reaching to help her. She nearly fell off the creature, right into his arms, like this was some kind of romantic comedy and not her life.
Her head was only a few inches away from his, her feet dangling in the air. They met eyes, and once again, Faith couldn’t find the words to say. This Dracon made her tongue-tied in the best and worst of ways.
Dracyrus was unhurried in lowering her to her feet. Faith stared at his lower chest, feeling far too short and miniscule beside him. “I talked to the others about you,” she whispered, turning her head up to find he already watched her. They stood less than a foot apart, their bodies so close and yet so freaking far.
Why the hell did she think now was a good time to bring it up? Ugh. If he wasn’t looking at her, she would’ve smacked herself. How lame. How needy. How…well, she was clearly horny for the Dracon; there was no denying it.
Still. It’s called tact. Faith should learn it.
“I assumed so,” Dracyrus said, tilting his head. He said nothing else, waiting for her to say it. To tell him whether he was in or out of her special group. Her group of guys. Her lovers. Her—what’s the Dracon word—nethelell.
“And?” Faith asked. “Aren’t you curious how it went?”
Dracyrus smirked. The bastard smirked. It was not the first smirk she’d seen on his thin lips, but it was the first smirk that made her stomach do a somersault. Forget about Fang being a traitor to Vyserous; her body was a traitor to her. Her body had known she needed this Dracon far before her mind did. Her mind was always slow to catch up.
“I have an inkling I already know how your conversation went,” he finally said, still smirking.
God, if he didn’t stop smirking, Faith swore to herself she’d wipe it off his face. Or jump him right here and now. One of the two; she couldn’t be certain which one. The way her stomach currently burned, and the heated anticipation practically dripping between her legs, it would probably be the second one.
“That confident, are you?” Faith hardly sounded like herself. She’d meant to sound sarcastic and playful, but her words came out in a bare whisper, spoken seriously. What the hell was this Dracon doing to her?
“I know the way your body reacts to mine,” he told her, his voice low, almost a rumble from his chest. “I know how your mind calls out to mine, even when you’re asleep. I do not need to be confident; it simply is.”
Well, just for that—just for that Faith would walk away from this and keep her body and her mind away from his. He thought he knew her so well, all because she was thirsty for him? As if. As freaking if.
As she stared at him, her mouth agape as she attempted to find the right words to say, Dracyrus continued, “I am glad to hear you’ve spoken with the others, however. I do not have anything holding me back—”
“Great,” Faith said. “There’s nothing holding me back, either.” She wanted to sound defiant, wanted to tell him how annoying she found his overconfidence, but neither happened, mostly because, after all this time, she was anxious, a bit scared that once they crossed this line, there was no going back. This would change everything, and there was no telling that they would even be able to beat the Fae bitch together.
This could very well all be for nothing, which would suck.
Though she wanted nothing more than to jump his bones, Faith managed to croak out, “I have to go.” And then she spun on her heel and scurried away from him, back to the party, back to Light and Jag, two men who didn’t make her feel so damned confused.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jag did his best not think of Faith’s private parts while he was in public. It was difficult, mostly due to the Fae drinking heavily around him and making out, along with tearing off each other’s clothes and finding nooks and crannies to have sex in. Plus, he was on his second cup, even though Faith told him to go slow.
He couldn’t help himself—the stuff was good. Sweet and thick, it fell down his throat easily. He wanted more, more, more, but Light grabbed his arm and pulled him back down before he could get up and get a third cup.
“I have to show these Fae that I appreciate their…their…” Jag couldn’t think of the word, but Light did, his blue eyes narrowing at him.
“Hospitality?”
Jag pointed at him. “Yes, that’s the word, my pointy-eared friend. Hospitality.” He slurred the word somewhat, but Light understood him. He was about to ask where Faith went, why she’d been gone for so long, when a short Fae woman stood before them.
She was pretty in the way most Fae were, her eyes a bright orange, the same color as her hair, which was long and braided, hanging over her right shoulder, flowers situated on its length. She stared at him and Light intently—almost too intently. Did she want to mate with them?
“Sorry,” Jag spoke, nearly falling off his seat as he leaned forward to her standing form. “But we’re taken. There will be no mating here, unless it’s with Faith.” He swatted Light’s shoulder—the Elf only glared at him. “This prissy Elf likes to watch, even though he won’t admit it.”
“I do not,” Light hissed. “And you’ve had too much drink.”
The Fae woman sized them up. By the expression on her face, she was unimpressed by everything she saw. Unimpressed by Jag, what were the odds? “I’m not here to mate with either of you. Trust me when I say, neither of you are my type. I only came to see just who has the Harbinger’s heart.”
Light scrutinized her, and Jag hiccupped. “You’re the Fae who kissed Faith,” Light said.
“Rose,” she told him.
Jag stumbled to his feet, reaching for her, pulling her into a hug before she could dodge him. “Oh, you’re the one. You little, tiny Fae.” When she pushed him away, he grinned. “You know, I’m more than okay with you kissing Faith again.”
“Jag,” Light scowled, sounding like a parent.
“What? I’m only saying that’s something I would like to see.” Jag shrugged.
With a frown, Light told her, “He’s not normally like this. He’s had two full cups of that stuff—”
Rose understood, nodding. “It is strong, especially to those who’ve never tasted the fruit of the Eldertree before.” It was a moment before she asked, “Is she happy with you?”
Light nodded, while Jag’s response was a little more enthusiastic, “Of course she’s happy with us. She loves us, and we love her, more than a hyll loves chasing around its own tail.” Jag cracked himself up, and he started laughing.
“Ignore him,” Light told her. “But the gist of what he said is true.”
The Fae pursed her lips, as if she was deep in thought. “Good. I would treat her well. She is the only hope we have left. Her and that Dracon, Dracyrus.” She practically shivered when she said his name, and not in the good way. More of in a trying-to-contain-her-hatred-for-him way, which Jag couldn’t blame her for, even in his inebriated state.
Dracyrus was a take him or leave him kind of guy. Jag wasn’t exactly a huge fan, but the last few weeks hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected. If anything, he was starting to like the guy. Maybe. Or maybe it was just the drink talking.
“We’re going to do all we can,” Light said.
“Good!” A booming voice behind Rose startled all three of them, and Rose stepped aside to reveal Hart. Or Lionheart. Or whatever his name was. “Because every soul on every world is counting on her and Dracyrus, and by extension, you.” He s
tood straight, his red hair coiffed back, wearing the same green eyes Faith did. He glanced at Rose. “Give me a minute alone with them.”
Rose meekly bowed her head before walking off. Jag wanted to call out to her, tell her that it was really okay if she wanted to kiss Faith again, but even he wasn’t drunk enough to think it’d be a good idea to say something like that in front of Faith’s father. A Fae who wasn’t truly a Fae. A Fae born here, but from another world. Maybe it had something to do with that glowing necklace.
Did everything around here glow? Was it a Fae thing? Jag wasn’t sure, but he was curious. Also, he wanted to touch the purple claw on Hart’s chest. He reached out, seeking to run a sharp nail down it, but Light pulled him back as he got to his feet, shooting him a glare.
Oh, fine. The Elf was a downer at parties anyway.
“Tonight,” Hart began, after eyeing Jag up like he thought he’d try to touch him again, “is a very important night. Certain things must happen. You cannot stop them, lest you doom us all.” The way he spoke, with such certainty, made even Jag stop cold, feeling oddly sober in spite of the warm, tingly feelings rushing through his body.
Even his tail. Yes, even Jag’s tail felt funky with the stuff.
Light, thankfully, took hold of the conversation, asking, “What are you talking about? What must happen?”
Hart frowned. “Their union. If they are not close before you leave, things will not progress as they should, as they must in order for the worlds to remain intact.”
Jag, personally, wasn’t sure he could trust this guy. After all, wasn’t there a saying about Fae? Couldn’t one not trust a Fae as far as one could throw them? Jag could probably toss one decently far, due to how small they were, but that was beside the point. There was something about Hart’s know-it-all attitude that made Jag want to growl.
His Elven friend shot him a glare.
Oops. Maybe he was already growling.
“You’re talking about Faith and Dracyrus,” Light said, once he’d moved his gaze from Jag to Hart.
The Fae nodded once. “I am.”
“It’s not my decision what Faith does, or with who,” Light said. “Not really. She will do what she wants—”
“Only if she believes you are truly okay with it,” Hart cut in, frowning. “Tonight, if you have any care about saving this world, her world, and all the other worlds, you will let her go to him and not keep her to yourself.”
Light resumed his haughty, typical Elven look. “I do not appreciate ultimatums.”
“It is not an ultimatum; it is a promise.” Hart reached for the glowing claw on his chest, and when his fingertips touched it, it began to glow brighter. His eyes flashed a bright, vibrant green before returning to their normal hue. “I have seen it. These Fae—” He paused as he glanced around them, at the Fae having fun. “—they are fortunate if they can call themselves something. Illusionist. Seer. Naturalist. Where most have one, I am all.”
Jag shrugged, not seeing the point. “And?”
“And,” Hart paused, shooting Jag a dirty look, “since I am her father, Faith is all as well. She wields more power than she realizes. Things that should come easy come with difficulty. She puts too much pressure on herself. Only if she lets go will she finally be able to surrender.”
“Okay, I am not telling her all of that,” Jag huffed, going to cross his arms over his bare chest.
Hart didn’t even look at Jag. It was as if Jag wasn’t even there—Hart only looked at Light, as if he knew something they both didn’t. “I’ve said all I need to,” Hart whispered, nodding his head once before walking away, leaving Light and Jag alone.
“What is his problem?” Jag muttered, frowning to himself as he met Light’s eyes. Or tried to, at least. Light was busy watching Hart walk off, a pensive expression on his friend’s face. “What is it? Did he bother you? I can go rough him up—”
“You will not attack Faith’s father,” Light interrupted. “And I…I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
Jag wasn’t so sure, even with his head racing from the drink. He was about to open his mouth and say more, but the love of his life suddenly appeared before them, tossing a look over her shoulder as she asked, “Was Hart talking to you?” Faith looked at both Jag and Light; her face was flushed, her expression tired.
Was it wrong that Jag wanted to tuck her against his chest and hold her? Ooh, or better yet, he could go find that Fae woman and—
“Yes,” Light said. “But it was nothing important. He only wanted to make sure we were treating you right.”
Jag’s thoughts stopped, and he stared at Light quizzically, feeling his body starting to sway. “That’s not—”
“Ignore Jag,” Light quickly spoke. “He had two full cups of that stuff, and it’s affecting him.”
Faith eyed Jag up. “I’ll say. We should bring him to the room. He’ll have to sleep it off.”
“I am only going to the room if I can have you under me and my—” Jag burped, feeling the strange, sudden urge to lay down and rest his head, which felt oddly heavy. “Okay, let’s go lay down.” He sounded like a child, tired and worn-out. As Faith and Light helped him to the room Faith had been staying in, he hoped he wouldn’t have a blistering headache in the morning.
He doubted he’d be so lucky.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cara stared at her with wide, shocked eyes, and Faith couldn’t blame her. With her family’s history of men, it came as a shock to Faith herself when she’d agreed to be with more than one guy at the same time. Cara, the ever-embarrassed, totally inexperienced one when it came to guys, was speechless.
Well, at least for a few minutes.
They sat in desks in one of the Academy’s classrooms, the rest of the students gone. The windows on the side of the room weren’t really windows; the setting sun and grass outside were only stimulated images, which made it easier to go to school underground, right under Central Park.
Why were they here? Faith couldn’t remember, but it felt like ages since she’d seen Cara, heard her laugh as she said something inappropriate to make her friend’s cheeks turn a bright red.
“I cannot believe you’re with them,” Cara said, shaking her head and smiling. They both wore their own clothes; Cara’s style was more preppy, brightly-colored clothing hugging her body in contrast to Faith’s dark colors and leather jacket. “What’d your mom say?”
Faith shrugged. “My mom doesn’t know. She works so much, it’ll probably be years before she…” She trailed off, unable to finish. Why did talking about her mom make her feel so…well, for lack of a better word, weird? Almost as if there was something about her mother she wasn’t quite remembering.
Why did her mind feel so fuzzy?
“Oh, my God,” Cara spoke, sounding amazed. “One of them is here. By the door, Faith. By the door!” She whisper-yelled, almost as if she was afraid of the guy by the door hearing her but she really wanted Faith to know, right this second.
Faith had no idea what was so important, or why one of her guys would be here now, so she was slow to turn her head and look. She hadn’t planned on making any introductions today, but if she had to, she supposed she would…
Past the empty desks, standing hunched under the door frame, mostly because he was so ridiculously tall, Faith spotted a horned man. A Dracon. Dracyrus, her mind whispered his name, and Faith felt herself flush, much like her friend had. This Dracon had a way with her, whether he tried to or not.
She opened her mouth to tell Cara she had to go, but when she looked over to where her friend was, she found Cara was no longer there. Faith was alone in the classroom. Huh. Wasn’t that odd?
Dracyrus’s dark black eyes studied her, his mouth drawn into a thin line. Where she used to feel intimidated and angry beneath his glare, she now felt the opposite. Intrigued and hot and bothered. He extended a hand, raising a single arm toward her, though there was still at least thirty feet between them.
“Come,” he said.
Just one word. One word uttered by his tall frame. One word spoken by a voice so low, so deep, it made her insides shiver and goosebumps rise on her flesh. Apparently one word was all it took to make Faith a pile of useless goo.
Just to show him she would not be so easily taken, she uttered a single word of her own: “Why?” Okay, so maybe Faith’s word was pretty useless in the scheme of things, said not nearly in the same way Dracyrus’s word was, but still. She did her best. They couldn’t all be zingers. Being witty was a lot of work.
Dracyrus tilted his horned head, his long white hair falling over his shoulders as he studied the classroom. Frowning, meaning he was unimpressed. “As interesting as this place is, I do think it’s time I invite you to my dream.”
Faith was out of her seat before she even knew it. It was like she had to go to him, like all her instincts screamed at her to close the distance between them, grab his hand, and let him lead her wherever the hell he wanted.
She stopped before him, paused as she gazed up at his towering frame, her hand hovering above his. Deep down, she somehow knew: this was it. This was everything she’d been waiting for, everything she never knew she needed. This was the point of no return. Once she set her hand in his, there would be no going back.
Good. Because she didn’t want to.
Faith slipped her hand into his, watching as his strong fingers curled around hers. Dracyrus said not a word as he led her out of the classroom. The moment she stepped into the hall—or what should’ve been the hall—they went straight from the Academy’s walls to someplace she’d never seen before.
No, that was a lie—Faith had seen the inner halls of the castle at Furen, but only in her visions. She’d seen Dracyrus’s study, where he planned war, and the room where his sister had leapt to her suicide. The room they both stood in now was…new. Foreign. Strange. All stonework with a hearth, a roaring fire opposite a bed.
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