by A. S. Green
“I have an office job.”
He made a grunting sound. “Sucks to be you.”
“I’m quitting.”
He beamed. “That’s the spirit.”
“See you later, Frankie.” Ainsley finished her trek down the hall and entered the student office. She put her notebook in the top drawer of her desk, then walked over to the bookcase where she and the other botany students kept Jaspar, the office pet. She picked up the canister of his fish food and was just about to sprinkle some of it into his bowl when—
“Oh, no.” Ainsley plinked her finger against the glass. “Wake up, little guy.”
Jaspar didn’t wake up. He was floating on his side, and not because he was practicing a cool new move. “Come on,” she pleaded. “Not on my watch.”
Ainsley waited for some sign of movement. Hoping. But no. He was dead.
With a sigh, she set the canister on the shelf and picked up Jaspar’s bowl. She headed back down the hall with him to the bathroom, bending over his water and whispering, “Rest in peace, little one.”
Her chest heated while her fingers tingled against the cool bowl. It’s just a fish, she thought. Don’t cry. But her breath skittered out of her, making a ripple across the surface, and she swore she saw Jaspar’s feathery blue tail twitch.
She stopped in her tracks and the water settled. Jaspar’s tail twitched again.
Ainsley sucked in another breath, then she blew it out. Jaspar thrashed, splashing droplets of water up onto her face.
Ainsley stifled a scream, making an eep sound in her sinuses, and suddenly Jaspar was racing around his bowl like someone had hit his tiny chest with a defibrillator.
What the heck? She nearly dropped the bowl, and it wasn’t because of Jaspar. Alex’s voice was in her head again and raising the small hairs on the back of her neck. “Don’t you want to know what you really are? You’re life.”
8
Thorn Enterprises
“Miss Morris! Um... I don’t think...! Please!” The receptionist rose from her chair behind the desk. “You really should go see Judith first.”
But Ainsley ignored the frantic employee. She knew where she was going. She knew what she wanted. And Judith had nothing to do with it.
So without invitation, she charged through the sumptuously decorated lobby, her high heels clicking on the hardwood, then down the plushly carpeted hallway as the receptionist trotted after her.
Ainsley hung a left, ignoring the young woman’s pleas, and headed for Alex’s corner office. When she finally reached it, she flung the door open and stormed in with her hair flying out behind her.
“Don’t—!” implored the receptionist one last time, but Ainsley had already slammed the door closed behind her.
Alex casually looked up from his desk, all molten hotness in a charcoal gray suit, white shirt, and diamond-patterned tie. His piercing green eyes were active and alert. The corners of his mouth were tight, but she thought she detected the hint of a self-satisfied smile. He rose silently to his feet.
“How does it work?” she demanded. “Your plant. The flower in the bar. My fish. I didn’t do anything. They just…”
He furrowed his brow. “Your fish?”
“Tell me what’s happening!”
Alex came out from behind his desk—not answering, but watching her intently. Just like at the bar, everything about him radiated sex, from the size and strength of his body to the intensity of his eyes. God, why did she have to think about things like that at a moment like this?
“Stop!” she ordered, holding up her hand. She didn’t think she could maintain control of the situation if he got any closer, and this time, dang it, it was her show.
He took a couple steps closer before heeding her. “The energy coming off of you is too great for me to stay behind my desk. If you had any idea… It’s like a shot of adrenaline straight into my veins. I need to be closer.”
“I want to talk about my fish.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m guessing your fish reacted to you much like the plant I gave you. Much like the effect you’re having on me right now.”
There was a bluish tinge to the skin at his temples. She’d noticed it yesterday, but it was fainter today. She didn’t know what to make of that, so she shook her head and regained her focus. “These things…they never happened before. They only started on Friday.”
“It’s been happening since you first crossed paths with me. This is not surprising.”
“Yes, it is,” she said, flinging her arms out in exasperation. “It’s very surprising. Why is this happening?”
“Because you are a queen, Ainsley.”
“I… What?” She didn’t know if it was his bizarre declaration, or the flash of very sharp looking teeth that made her stumble.
“You’re a ba’vonn-shee queen. In all probability, the only living queen. And you are my race’s one chance for survival.”
Ainsley was pretty sure her jaw had gone slack, and Alex confirmed it when he said, “I can see you still don’t believe me.”
“I am not like you,” she said, raising an accusatory finger. She wasn’t a blood-drinking fae. She was a cos-playing, Renaissance-fair working, botany-studying science nerd. Ask all her friends.
“No, not exactly,” he said, so calmly it was infuriating. “But your father must have been like me. Ba’vonn-shee males typically only sire male offspring; but occasionally a female is born and they are our queens.”
Ainsley felt duped. Alex had said he could tell her something about her father, but that had obviously been a lie. Her father was a girlfriend-dodging college professor, not a mythological creature. She wasn’t spawn from anything other than good old-fashioned nookie and human DNA.
But then she remembered the floral crown, the cut flower, Alex’s plant, Jaspar… Still, she refused to give in to something so scientifically impossible. “You, Mr. Campbell, live in a rich a fantasy world.”
Alex raised one eyebrow. “I could accuse you of the same thing. At least, up until last week. Why did you leave that Renaissance fair?”
Ainsley reared back, and her stomach dropped. She must have misheard him, but the way her body had been reacting to the weight of his stare, she knew it had felt familiar.
“Oh my god. That was you. Watching me.” The words came out whispery.
Alex folded his arms, straining his sleeves. His green gaze was heavy and potent, just like the stranger’s at the fair. “Why did you quit? It could have made it impossible for me to find you again.”
It took a second for Ainsley to process his question, then she gritted her teeth before answering. “I left because I thought I’d been given the opportunity to wear normal clothes, work in an air-conditioned building, and—believe it or not—spend my summer with reasonably well-adjusted human beings.”
He smiled. “Then you’re batting over 500. Those are Hall of Fame numbers.”
Ainsley rolled her eyes and let out a huff of air. “I should have stayed at the fair. I had a family there. Sort of.”
“I understand the need for family,” Alex said.
Ainsley barely heard him; her thoughts were elsewhere. “I can’t believe that was you standing under that tree.”
A crease formed between his eyebrows. “I don’t know anything about a tree, but I did watch you. I had to know for sure, and when that wreath bloomed on top of your head… It was possibly the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”
Ainsley looked away, focusing on the windows. She couldn’t deny a growing excitement over new possibilities, but her rational mind kept telling her this couldn’t be real.
A queen implied a king, didn’t it? Was Alex the king? Ainsley’s skin flushed with the memory of how he’d held her on the dance floor, the way her body rose to meet his. The sexual tension that had sizzled through her cells….
When she looked back at him, she was surprised to see that he’d backed up, putting six feet between them, as if he though
t she was the dangerous one.
“What does it mean to be a queen?” she asked, wanting to get all the information out on the table—improbable as it may be. Only then could she synthesize the data and follow it to its rational conclusion.
Alex let out a breath and his shoulders relaxed. “You’re consenting.”
“I’m asking a question.”
He cocked his head in acquiescence. “Are you familiar with pheromones?”
“Yes,” she said warily. “What does—?”
“Pheromones affect behavior in animals, even some plants. Just as blood provides us with our nutritional needs—” He paused, likely in response to her flinch. “A ba’vonn-shee queen’s pheromones provide us with what we need to sustain our minds. It is her presence in our midst that keeps us balanced. Without her, we slip into madness. Without a queen, we die.”
A tremble of trepidation rolled over Ainsley’s skin. Fixing wilted flowers was one thing. Being responsible for an entire race’s mental health was quite another. Why on earth would Alex even want to trust a virtual stranger with that kind of responsibility?
Alex inhaled deeply and the column of his muscular throat convulsed. He took two hesitant steps forward, keeping one hand on his desk. “The chemicals a queen puts into the air keep our more primal urges under control. Her balance is what allows us to feed, without going so far as to kill our prey. That allows us to keep ourselves hidden in human society.”
His voice, the intensity of his stare, the disappearing distance between their bodies…it all had Ainsley’s palms sweating and internal muscles clenching.
“Chemicals in the air,” she said, her eyes on his lips. God, why hadn’t she kissed him the other night when she had the chance? “You’re talking about fear.”
“Fear. Yes. Sometimes. Anxiety, too. And sexual arousal.” He inhaled deeply, then stopped moving when he reached the corner of his desk that was nearest to her.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, hoping she sounded convincing.
“Aren’t you?”
“And I’m not sexually attracted to you either.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “If you say so.”
Ainsley groaned internally because dollars to donuts he also had an exceptionally good sense of smell. Her panties were definitely damp. “I do say so.”
Alex gave her another once-over, muttered “Small miracles,” then retreated to the corner so quickly that he was little more than a blur.
Ainsley blinked with surprise.
He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers, keeping his back to her and fixing his eyes on the city below them. “But this isn’t about the two of us, Ainsley. A queen’s pheromones sustain the entire clan.”
“What do you mean…the entire clan?” If he was talking about some twisted, paranormal swinger party….
He glanced over his shoulder, then he turned and faced her fully. “The chemical cocktail you put out is quite powerful. Just sitting next to you would be helpful. This is not a sexual proposition in any way. Not for me, and not for any of my clan mates.”
Heat flooded Ainsley’s face, remembering how she’d nearly thrown herself at him on the dance floor. “Is that why you pushed me away? When we were dancing?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw, and the intense way in which he looked at her—equal parts terrifying and empowering—made her skin tingle. “As I said, I’m only interested in how you can help my clan.”
Her throat tightened, making it difficult to swallow. Would Alex leave once she’d done that, ending this whole weird experience just as quickly as it had started? And why did that suddenly bother her?
Her father had disappeared without a goodbye. Maybe that was how they all operated.
“Is my father really like you? A…what did you call it?”
“Ba’vonn-shee.” He stepped away from the windows. “There’s no other explanation. You’re a fucking miracle, Ainsley. I hope you’ll soon come to realize it.”
She liked the sound of that, but the closer he came, the more she wished he needed her for more than just physical survival. “The name on my birth certificate is Ian Fitzpatrick. Do you know him?”
By then, Alex had moved in so close there were only a few inches between them. “I’m sorry, I don’t. But if you agree to help me, I’ll do my best to find him for you.”
Ainsley’s chest tightened with gratitude. She didn’t know what she’d say to her father if Alex was successful. Over the years she’d flip-flopped between hugging and throttling him. But she’d figure that out later. Right now, with Alex so close, a strange kind of energy was rippling through her in such pleasurable waves of satisfaction, her legs trembled beneath her.
Alex leaned down, bringing his mouth closer, closer to hers. She rose up on her toes, putting her hands on his shoulders. He inhaled deeply, and a shudder ran through him. Ainsley opened her eyes and saw a pained expression cross his face.
Then, just like before, he pushed himself away from her, as if he suddenly found her vile and offensive.
“You should leave my office now.”
“What?” Ainsley blinked, and her body rocked. His abrupt authoritarian tone confused her; Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
“I put a calendar in your cubicle with my various upcoming meetings. I need you to make restaurant reservations for each of them. I also provided a list of my favorite spots. After you’ve finished that, there’s a stack of filing that needs attending.”
Ainsley blinked again. Just like that, he’d gone from talking about crazy impossibilities and making head-exploding confessions to…filing?
Alex raised his eyebrows, as if confused by her state of inertia.
She said the first thing that came to mind. “You eat regular food?”
He frowned. “Not if you don’t make those reservations.”
Realizing there was nothing more to say—at least for now—Ainsley turned slowly and walked out, far less bombastic than how she’d entered. The weight of Alex’s stare followed her the whole way, just as it had at the fair, and she only let her shoulders relax when she closed the door between them.
9
At the end of the day, Alex tilted home to Campbell Manor. As with most fae, tilting was his preferred mode of travel when moving between familiar territories like home and work, even if a shortcut through the fourth dimension was akin to being turned inside out.
When there was solid ground under his feet again—the tilt complete—Alex opened his eyes. He was no longer in the downtown parking garage but in the foyer of his home, and the Ainsley-free zone allowed him to finally let out a breath. It was the first time all day he’d been able to breathe properly.
“Welcome home, honey,” said a teasing voice. “Can I get you a drink?”
Alex looked up the grand staircase to see Callum descending. As per usual, the edges of his brother’s auburn beard were trimmed to a distinct line along his jaw. Even though school was out for the summer, Callum still wore his typical history-professor uniform of dark jeans, a white button shirt, and a sports coat. There was also the customary black mourning ribbon pinned to his lapel.
“Try getting me several drinks,” Alex retorted.
“Bad day?” Callum asked, reaching the bottom, and although his teasing tone was still there, there was a crease of concern between his eyebrows.
“I don’t know what to call it actually.” Alex raked his fingers through his hair in frustration and headed down the hall toward the liquor cabinet.
Callum followed. “She did come back though, didn’t she?”
Alex glanced over his shoulder, irritated by the careless question. Anyone could be listening, and he’d told Callum and Finn not to tell the others about Ainsley. Not yet anyway, not until Alex could explain everything to her and she consented to join them. If he took things too fast with her, it could all blow up in his face.
“Not out here. In my office,” he said. “Grab the scotch.”
By the tim
e Callum entered the room—Glenlivet in hand—Alex was seated in one of the upholstered chairs in the corner of his office, his eyes on the window and already lost in thought. Ainsley was out there, somewhere. What was she thinking about him?
“Let’s hear it then.” Callum set the glasses on the small round table between the two chairs and poured them both two fingers of scotch.
Alex tore his gaze away from the windows. “She came back.” And, fuck, had she ever.
“Good,” Callum said, his mouth pulling into a wide grin. He took his seat.
“With her hair on fire,” Alex added, remembering the way she’d flung open his door. It had been all he could do to stay in his chair, and he'd only been able to keep that up for a handful of seconds.
Callum’s grin fell. “Not literally, I hope.”
Alex swirled the whisky around in his glass, smiling for only a second. Then he took a sip, letting it sit on his tongue for a while before swallowing. “Not quite, but she was very wound up.”
“And how did that feel?” Callum’s throat convulsed, revealing how thin his body and mind were already stretched.
How did that feel? It felt like his entire person had grown too big for his skin; it felt like he’d grabbed hold of an electric fence; it felt like he’d been close to revealing his true self to his entire office—the ba’vonn-shees’ carefully guarded secret be damned—just so he could claim the female that was so obviously meant for him. “I think I’m in trouble.”
“Did you tell her what she is, who she is, and why we need her?” Callum asked, leaning forward.
“Oh, I told her.”
“Does she believe you?”
Alex’s eyes shifted from his glass to Callum. “She doesn’t want to, but she’s seen too many odd things already to write me off as totally insane.”
“Then what kind of trouble do you mean?”
“I…” Alex didn’t want to admit to any kind of weakness, not even to Callum. He needed all of his clan mates to trust in him.