“Neither did I.”
I stare up at him. Somehow he’s suddenly only inches away. My heart pounds a little louder in my head. I swear he’s stealing all the air in the room.
“Can I just get some freaking time to think?” I ask under my breath. There’s way too much going on here between him and me right now. With his eyes on me like that, I can’t tell if he wants to strangle me or kiss me.
He opens up space between us again, his gaze shifting back to the ground as his shoulders sink a little. “Right. I’ll tell Marius that it’s possible you’ll choose someone else tonight.”
Even though he looks stricken by the idea, he’s not pushing me into something I don’t want. But maybe he’s relieved I’m giving him an out; he never wanted this to begin with.
Then why does he look pissed enough to crack bricks with his teeth?
“You should go,” he says. It’s obvious that any understanding we built during our training today has evaporated. “Aelia will come by your cottage and help you get ready for the ceremony. We’ll leave around six. It starts at sunset.”
I watch his stiff features for a few more heartbeats and then quietly say, “Okay,” before I turn and walk away.
TWENTY-THREE
SAGE
Aelia doesn’t even knock—she just comes into the cottage exactly as the clock ticks over to 4:00 p.m. Three girls from the other night at the club follow her in: Freya, the zit critic, and the mousy girl.
“You’re early,” I grumble, too exhausted to get off the couch.
“We’ve got work to do!” Aelia says, holding up several makeup bags.
I was enjoying staring at the ceiling and finding animal shapes in the plaster. And not thinking about tonight. Because then I have to think about Faelan. And I really don’t want to think about Faelan right now. The training thing was almost going well—he’d barely grunted at me the whole time. But he got so intense when the protector thing was brought up. And everything went wacky.
I left, letting him believe that I didn’t trust him. And maybe I don’t. I shouldn’t. But why the hell did I bring up Kieran? I handled it completely wrong. I made him feel like I was considering dumping him for a creep. I’m not sure what I was thinking.
What a mess.
The scroll he gave me is sitting on the coffee table, and I haven’t looked at it. I want to know what all the fuss is about my sister. But then I don’t. Isn’t it bad enough that my fake human family was screwed up? Does my real supernatural one have to be a mess too? It’s not like I have to end up like her.
Maybe not knowing is better.
“Come on, street urchin,” Aelia says, walking over to the couch. She waves me up. “We’re going to need the full two hours.”
I sit up, and Freya appears beside Aelia.
“Does she still have that spell on her?” Freya asks.
Aelia rolls her eyes. “No, Freya, gods. I told you, her energy is weird, okay? That’s the whole point.”
The zit critic frowns at me. “Seriously, she looks different, though. What’d you do to her since last night? She’s, like, almost decent looking.”
The mousy girl watches it all from the other side of the room. “Really, Victoria, I think she’s sorta pretty.”
The zit critic, Victoria, smirks. “You would think that, Rayane.”
“And her hair,” Freya says, squinting at me, “I wanna borrow her conditioner.”
Aelia grunts. “Can we just get her to the vanity, please?” She takes my arm to help me off the couch. I start to squirm, but Victoria takes my other arm, and I’m outnumbered.
We’re across the room when Victoria stops tugging me. She turns me around to face her and looks me over. She sniffs the air at my neck. “Do you smell that?” she asks Aelia. “Is she marked?”
“No,” Aelia snaps. “Stop smelling her, it’s weird.”
I think of the new scar on my neck. “What do you mean marked?”
Aelia gives me a look to shut up. “Nothing. Let’s just get your face fixed.”
“She has nice eyebrows,” the mousy Rayane says.
“Then marry them. Gods, Ray, you’re so obvious,” Victoria says. “Stop drooling over the newblood.” Then she whispers out the side of her mouth to me. “She has demi envy because her druid blood is weak.”
“I do not,” Rayane says.
Freya snorts.
“What do you mean by marked?” I ask again as they shove me into the vanity chair. I didn’t even know this was a vanity; I thought it was a desk. But now I see the thing I thought was a pencil holder is actually holding long lipsticks.
Freya runs her fingers through my hair. “It means a fellow demi has claimed you.”
I sit up straighter. “What?” That sounds very, very bad.
“No one’s claimed her,” Aelia says, shooing Freya away from my hair. “Stop being ridiculous.” But I can see she’s nervous—her hands shiver a little when she waves at Freya.
“She sure smells claimed to me,” Victoria says. “And you know I have the nose. But I can’t tell who it is.”
I stand up from the chair and back away, holding my hands up. “Stop touching me and smelling me and being insane—just tell me what is going on.”
Freya leans forward and says slowly, like I’m dumb, “We’re putting makeup on you for the Introduction.”
“You’re going to look so much better,” Victoria says.
“Though you already look nice,” Rayane adds.
Exasperation fills me as I stare at their ridiculously calm faces. “Everyone out!” They all blink in unison, not moving, so I add, “Now!” A small spark flicks to life on my right, and the tissue box on the vanity bursts into flames.
I gape at the sudden blaze.
Aelia moves her hand over the blackening box a few times, snuffing the fire out with her own magic. “Go on, girls, I’ll crack this solo. Just hang by the pool and I’ll call you in for shoes.” She coughs and waves at the smoke in her face.
They seem all too eager to back off now and quickly slip out, Victoria looking over her shoulder a few times before I hear the front door shut.
Aelia turns to me with a huff. “You seriously need to control yourself. Those girls have very powerful fathers. They can’t know that your torque isn’t working right.”
“Oh great! So why’d you bring them here?”
“You’re a project. I can’t fix this alone.” She motions to my body. She pauses, though, looking at me more closely. “You do look different, don’t you? Hmm.” She pinches my arm fat. “A little Faelan does a body good, I guess.” She winks at me.
“What?” I step away and cradle my arm.
“You fed off Faelan last night, and it seems to agree with you. You’re a little less praying mantis and more grasshopper.”
I look down at my body. Faelan did this?
“But now we may have a bit of a problem,” she says. She leans on the vanity and frowns at me.
“What—why?”
“I can glamour you to an extent, but Kieran will see right through it. After what he did to you, and you staying under without healing for so long, you should be pretty dead. But here you’ll be. All supple—well, near enough—and wide-eyed. He’ll know you have enough power to resist death, and he’ll be even more determined to demand his ancient rights to you.” She blows at her bangs. “But that’s all nonsense, and I’m totally sure the Cast will never give that a thumbs-up. I mean, do we really want to relive the thrills of the Dark Ages? I think not.”
I can’t even ask any of the questions screaming in my head, because I’m too confused. I touch the scar on my neck, running my fingers along the thin rise of flesh. “I’m marked by that raven freak, aren’t I?”
“Not the scar, no,” Aelia says. “If only. No, the mark of a demi is done with an energy merge, and it’s impossible to hide. I put a glamour on your scar this morning, so my girls wouldn’t notice it. But I couldn’t hide the smell of whoever scent-stamped you.”
/>
“It wasn’t the raven guy?”
She shrugs. “Maybe, but I doubt it.” She leans forward conspiratorially. “My money’s on Faelan, but it could’ve been my dad.”
“Ew!”
“It’s not for sex, perv. It’s a protection. To keep the other demis from getting any ideas about messing with you. I mean, the mark only works if you accept it, so this is sorta on you. Except I can tell you’re clueless about it by the fact that you look about to vom.” She sighs. “Gods’ bones, what did I do to earn you?”
She’s right. I’m going to barf. I focus on breathing and ask, “How did they put the mark on me?” It feels like a violation, an invasion, whatever she says about me being a part of it.
“It’s subtle, a touch. And don’t worry, it’ll wear off if you reject it.” She takes me into the closet and begins hunting for something.
I stand in the middle of the walk-in, feeling powerless. “So it could be your dad who did it, or . . .”
“Faelan.” She smirks. “Is it so tough to imagine?” She turns and grabs something off a hanger. “You hate the guy that much?”
“I don’t hate him, I . . .”
“Oh, come on, admit it.” She nudges my shoulder playfully. “The guy is sex on an untouchable stick.” She holds up a dress in front of me. “And he kisses like thunder rumbling through your body.” She closes her eyes, like she’s pulling up a memory. “I so wish I’d pushed that further. An eternal regret.”
My chest stings. “You’ve kissed Faelan?”
She laughs, hanging the dress back up and taking out another one. “I know, I stooped. But he’s poison, that one. And that celibacy vow makes him all the more yum.”
She kissed him. And it sounds like it was mutual. Which is weird since Faelan acts more annoyed with Aelia than anything. And what does she mean, celibacy vow? Is the guy a secret monk or something? But if he is, why was he sleeping in the nude with Niamh? The memory of him in Marius’s office, looking away from the half-naked woman, comes back to me. And how he seems to go distant when we get remotely close to connecting on any deeper level—wait! Hold on. I’m getting distracted.
“So, it wears off,” I blurt out, trying to stop my brain from going further down the Faelan rabbit hole. “The mark, I mean?”
“Oh yeah, no biggie. I’d be way more concerned about Kieran tonight.” When she sees the panicked look on my face, she adds, “Not that you should be concerned, that’s not what I meant. It’ll be fine. This is just an introduction to some of the interested parties. You’ll let them all look at you, you’ll choose your protector, then it’s done.” She holds up a second dress and smiles wickedly. “And if I have anything to say about it, you’ll look fabulous doing it.”
Just the idea of being in the same space as that raven guy terrifies me. Why would I put myself back in his orbit after what he did to me? I mean, the guy killed me. Not dead dead, but that was just a happy coincidence. And the fact that he nearly succeeded seems not to be even a blip on anyone’s radar.
“So people get punished in this world, right?” I ask.
Aelia starts grabbing lacy things from a drawer. “It depends, why?”
“Well, Kieran did almost kill me, so—”
She snorts, interrupting me. “Nothing will happen to our favored prince for a vague accident, trust me—I mean, he wasn’t technically trying to kill you. Plus, his sister totally has the Cast in her pocket and enough equity with the other Penta that no one would mess with her brother. Maybe if you’d actually died, but . . . well, you’re an all-powerful demi and whatnot. No one is going to feel sorry for you.”
Her flippant words soak into me, and I’m filled with the urge to run from it all, but I have to stay focused. I need to learn to control this thing. Then maybe I’ll be able to reclaim my freedom. In the meantime, with the dark prince’s unpredictability, I should probably learn how to defend myself while I’m here.
I wonder how Kieran would look with his hair on fire. I bet he wouldn’t be so eager to trap me in an alley after that.
For tonight, Faelan will be with me. And Marius. It kills me that I have to depend on any guy. I’ve always just depended on myself. But it’s sort of life and death at this point; whatever Aelia says about an accident, I’m not sure I buy it. I just have to hope the freak won’t try anything in front of the rest of them.
TWENTY-FOUR
FAELAN
After Sage left to get ready, I didn’t have the balls to call Marius and tell him what’s coming tonight when she’s asked who she chooses for her protector—how it’s probably not going to be me. How it might even be bloody Kieran at this point for all I know. Because I fucked it up.
Instead I went for a swim and showered, reciting Beowulf to quiet the commotion in my head. I’m in an extremely pissy mood by the time I’m ready. I can’t stop thinking about how I grabbed her—what the hell was that? And after what Kieran did to her . . . dick move. I know too little about practicing patience. I was never the right one for this task—I’m not sure what Marius was thinking.
I can hear Aelia’s coven out by the pool, and I don’t want to leave my cottage. So I sit in the greenhouse and wait for the sound of Sage’s door opening across the walkway.
Time passes slowly. As it becomes obvious we’re going to be late, I consider walking over and banging on Sage’s door. But the less time I spend with her right now, the better.
My head is too big of a mess.
But it’ll be over now, if she’s decided against me. And that should be a relief. I’ll just go into retirement like I planned—if Marius doesn’t have me sanctioned for my failure in handling this. Somehow, the rocky shores of Erin don’t sound as tempting as they did a few days ago, though. Not when I have this bloody compulsion to help her, to be there watching. I need to get my shit together.
I hear her door click open. When I step out on the front porch I spot them, Aelia and Sage, and—my thoughts go still, every part of me focusing on the redhead walking across the patio toward me. She’s stunning. Not beautiful in a typical sense: her edges are sharp and something about her clothes doesn’t quite match her personality. But she’s arresting. Everything in me wants to touch her.
I clench my hands into fists and step back.
“What’s wrong, Faelan?” Aelia asks with a smirk. “Don’t you think Sage looks nice?”
“Her dress is too short,” I say.
“Wow, that face,” Victoria says. “You look completely repulsed, hunter.” And she giggles, like she’s pleased with the idea. “You should’ve seen her an hour ago.”
I didn’t mean to feed the sharks. I glare at her before I turn to Sage, ready to apologize. But when I see Sage’s expression, my words evaporate. I swallow hard. She’s not looking at me, but there are threads of embarrassment and discomfort filtering from her shoulders. It makes me want to tear into the vapid Victoria, and tell her that her lipstick and caked-on eye makeup make her look like one of the trollops who used to stroll around outside the pub in my old village.
Instead I say, “You look nice, Sage.” When her eyes move to mine in surprise, I feel the need to add, “You’re very put together.” And then I clear my throat, because it’s either that or I keep digging the hole.
“You did a fabulous job, Aelia,” Freya says. “She’s amazingly less gross.”
“Pretty,” Rayane says.
“We need to go,” I say a bit too harshly.
“Sage should walk in with us, I think,” Aelia says. “They need to know she has more of us than just my father behind her.”
I look over at the four girls, Aelia and her coven, and wonder what she thinks they’ll prove, walking in with Sage. My guess is she thinks Sage’s future status will help raise her own clout. I don’t like the idea of Sage being used as a prop by Aelia.
“She comes in with me,” I say, “and you can follow.”
Aelia gives me an irritated look, but she doesn’t argue. “Fine, but only because I think that’
s what Daddy would want, not because you said so.”
“Whatever, woman.” I motion for Sage to follow me. “Come on.”
Aelia moves into my space, more than irritated now. “Don’t call me woman in that condescending tone! Male.” She whooshes past, her hair flicking my arm, saying over her shoulder, “You could’ve put more effort into that outfit, you know. Off-brand slims, seriously? Should’ve worn the Calvins I got you. At least leave your hair down for a change.”
Her entourage follows her, Freya glancing back at me with a wink. “I think you look yummy,” she whispers. “That sweater is super touchable.” And then they all flitter away on their designer heels, long hair flowing behind them, leaving Sage and me alone.
Sage watches them go like she wishes she could follow.
“Would you rather go with them?” I ask.
She turns back and gives me a wide-eyed look. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You seem to be getting along with Aelia. It’s odd. You’re such . . . polar opposites.”
She studies me for a second like she’s trying to decide if I’m complimenting her, then she relaxes a little, more herself again. “The girl is crazy and exasperating. But she’s actually pretty informative.” She considers and then adds, “She’s explained loads more than you have.”
“Is that right?” The spark in her eyes brings a surprised lightness to my chest. “Loads, aye?”
“Don’t be Irish at me.”
I tip my head and give her a taste of the old me. “No choice, macushla.”
A questioning look passes over her features like I’ve affected her in some way with my endearment. She starts picking nervously at the front of her dress. “Sometimes you’re actually a little British, though. Has Marius rubbed off on you?”
“Aye, maybe.” And I can’t help being captivated by the soft skin of her shoulder as she shrugs, by the small creases that form when she crinkles her nose, the shiny coral of her glossed lips, full and lovely—gods, what am I doing?
No. She’s not lovely. She’s average. Simple. Practically human. “Let’s go,” I say quickly and walk away. I have to hope she’ll follow me, because I don’t want to glance back and see the surprise on her face that I know is there.
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