SPURNED: Elkridge Series, Book 2, A novella

by Lyz Kelley

  I glanced over my shoulder at a tall, lanky guy in a scruffy T-shirt.

  He smiled. “You like my work?”

  “It’s beautiful.” I had to stop myself from touching an intricate weave of glass petals.

  He thumbed a touchscreen device on the display table. “There’s a short video on here that shows how glass art is created. Take a look. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to track me down.” With a grin, he handed me a photo card, then turned his attention to a well-dressed older couple. “Hello folks. I have a showing in two weeks at the Prescott Art Gallery on Fifth Avenue, where I’ll have some of these pieces available for sale.”

  Okay, guess I didn’t look like a buyer of art. Not wanting to be rude and toss his photo card back onto the table, I slipped the card in the back pocket of my jeans. I’d recycle it later.

  Glancing around, I found Mom standing in front of a display of old black-and-white photos hung on a wall. Lips pursed in concentration, she had her chin gripped in one hand. I snuck up beside her and mocked both her expression and gesture. Nodding slowly, I hummed, pretending to be deep in thought.

  “Oh stop that,” she said with a laugh.

  I gave her a quick hug. “Need more time or do you want to move onto the next gallery?”

  “No, we can move on,” she replied, rubbing my shoulder, hesitant to let me go. Her dark blue eyes sparkled with warmth I hadn’t seen in weeks.

  Arms linked, we exited the exhibition room and wandered among the other art patrons in the lobby. Searching the signs for the next student’s gallery, I stopped cold.

  Tolmin stood by himself, head down, hands clenched by his sides.

  My mother tugged on my arm. “Here’s the next gallery, honey.”

  “Um, you go on in. I need to …”

  Piran’s friend turned. I ducked my head, dipping into a slight crouch. “I need to use the restroom. Really bad. You go on without me. I’ll catch up with you.”

  Without waiting for my mom’s reply, I dashed off in the opposite direction and slipped behind a horde of diva wannabes wearing slinky dresses and painfully high heels. They stared at me as if I’d come from outer space.

  “Beautiful show, huh?” I said with a grin, rocking back and forth in my Converses.

  Pacing the lobby, Tolmin edged closer. Damn it. If he saw me, he’d tell Piran. I needed a barrier so I could make a break for it. I shuffled along behind the women.

  “So, ladies, have you seen the paintings by Piran of Sava? Wow. Breathtaking. You should really go now. Yup, right now. Right over there.”

  One woman’s eyes lit up. “Haven’t seen his paintings, but I’ve seen him. Maybe he needs a muse,” she cooed. She smoothed her dress over her slim hips. “Or a model.”

  “Isn’t he a bit young even for you, Adele?” asked another woman, raising an eyebrow.

  “He’s at least eighteen, right?”

  The women laughed.

  Gross.

  But instead of forming my needed blockade, the women abruptly dispersed, leaving me exposed. And Tolmin stood only six feet away. Don’t turn around. Please, don’t turn around.

  Heart pounding, I snuck behind a huge Venus sculpture next to a potted tree.

  “ … my fault,” I heard him say. “I have no idea how—”

  “You are the only one who knows!” Piran’s voice blasted from a nearby entryway.

  I shrank even further against the thick trunk of the potted tree. The tidal wave of blood rushing through my ears was so loud I swore Piran and Tolmin could hear it.

  Should I slink off before they discovered me or hang tight and eavesdrop? If I stayed, would they sense my thoughts? How close was close enough to mind-read?

  “When did you last check in with him?” Piran asked.

  “One week ago. I said nothing of Bailey to your father. I promise.”

  Cold snaked its way through my veins, my feet seemingly rooted to the spot.

  Piran frowned. “What did you speak of?”

  “The usual.” Tolmin shrugged. “He asked if I was doing my job, keeping you safe.”

  My head jerked. Keeping you safe?

  Piran snorted. “Anything else?”

  “He asked if you were well.” Tolmin rubbed the back of his neck. “He wanted to know how you spent your time.”

  “Tolmin.” Piran’s voice held a note of warning.

  “No worry. I shielded my mind.”

  Piran placed his hands on his hips. “When my father asked you what I did with my time, did you think about or visualize Bailey?”

  There was a pause before Tolmin cleared his throat. “Only for a heartbeat.”

  Piran barked something in his native language. From the guttural sound, probably a curse. “So Father does know about Bailey.”

  “I forgot how exceptional your father is at reading. He must have seen her in my mind before I could shield my thoughts. But surely, your father did not expect you to refrain from—”

  “Stop.” Piran scrubbed a hand over his chin, exhaling loudly. “He arrives.”

  What? I whipped my head around. Several college students were taking selfies by the lobby’s centerpiece. A trio of older women headed for one of the gallery spaces, their heels clacking on the tile floor. A harried-looking mom dragged her two whining kids to the lobby doors. On the other side of the lobby, two older guys in skinny jeans strolled arm-in-arm, before stopping to greet another couple with air kisses.

  No one approached us.

  Then the air behind Piran shimmered like heat radiating from the pavement on a hot summer day. At first I thought it was a reflection from the glass chandelier that looked like a ginormous sea anemone hanging from the ceiling, but the shimmering waves took on colors—blue, green, and gold. Human shapes flickered in the colored lights.

  I hadn’t seen Fae transference since the Revealing, and based on the collective gasps in the lobby, nor had anyone else. And for good reason. Fae transference was illegal.

  But totally awesome. Even the whiny kids shut up, their eyes bulging out of their heads.

  Four Fae men emerged from the glittery mist. Based on their outlawed method of arrival, I expected them to be dressed in feathered capes and mesh armor. Or maybe traditional Fae leather kilts and crossbows. Certainly not dark business suits.

  Piran stepped forward, as did the tallest of the Fae men, the man’s long braid draped over his shoulder. Piran bowed to his knee before him. “Greetings, Father.”

  “My son.” The larger man placed his hand on Piran’s shoulder. “Your mother wishes to know how you have been.”

  “She is not arriving?”

  His father waved a hand as though dismissing Piran’s concern. “Indeed, although she travels by accepted methods.” The man heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “You know your mother. She does not wish to upset …” He frowned. “Others.”

  “Mother is correct,” Piran said, crossing his arms.

  His father raised an arched brow. “You continue to shun our traditions.”

  “This is not the time or the place, Father.”

  “This is exactly the time,” his father said with a huff. “You make a habit of disregarding our customs.”

  Piran replied in his native tongue, and his father muttered something in return. The other Fae men joined the conversation. From their gestures and gruff voices, they weren’t discussing rainbows and kittens. Fisting his hands, Piran raised his voice over theirs. Tolmin ping-ponged between Piran and the four men, apparently trying to mediate.

  I gripped the trunk of the potted tree, the rough bark scraping my skin. A warning tingle crept up my spine. Had his father banned Piran from dating humans? Is that why Piran didn’t want me to meet this father?

  A tall, slender Fae woman suddenly captured my attention, her stride long and quick, like Piran’s. Waist-length jeweled hair flowed behind her. The back of her fitted moss green dress flared at the hips, leading to a train of pearlescent fabric draping to the floor
.

  She paused before the men, and they all bowed to the knee in unison. Piran’s father rose first, and the Fae woman nodded to him, tilting her head deferentially.

  Piran stood, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. “Greetings, Mother.”

  “I am most excited to see your paintings,” she said, her lilting voice soft and musical. She clasped Piran’s hand in hers. “However, your mind is not only on art, is it, my son?”

  I held my breath, my stomach muscles tightening.

  Piran cast a sharp glance at Tolmin, who lowered his chin again.

  “We should at least meet the girl.” Piran’s father folded his arms across his wide chest. He turned toward my hiding place.

  Oh shit. All this time, he’d known I was standing here?

  Piran slowly angled his head. Eyes narrowed, he stared past the sculpture directly at me.

  Sweat trickled down my back, and my fingernails bit into my palms. No way out of this now. Swallowing hard, I stepped into the open.

  With a sigh, Piran gestured for me to come forward. My feet like lead, each step was more torturous than the last until I reached him. Taking my shaking hand in his, he drew me to his side and gently kissed my temple. “Been there long?” he murmured.

  “Long enough,” I replied, staring at the ground, feeling the burn of shame in my eyes.

  Piran took a deep breath and turned me to face his parents.

  “Mother. Father. This is my girlfriend, Bailey Meyers.”

  His father studied me, his mouth hard, eyes gray. Definitely disapproving. Hands clasped behind their backs, the other Fae men simply stared though me, their pale eyes giving me the creeps. My knees knocking, I welcomed Piran’s strong arm wrapped around my back.

  “Hi,” I said to his parents, trying to focus my scattered brain and remember my manners. “So nice to meet you both.”

  I began to extend my right hand, until Piran’s quick squeeze on my waist alerted me, and I dropped my hand like a stone. Phew. Huge mistake averted. The Fae didn’t shake hands.

  Covering my nerves with a forced smile, I waited for his parents to say something. Acknowledge my existence. I licked my dry lips, my heart tapping out a staccato rhythm as the seconds ticked by at an agonizing crawl.

  Yet Piran’s parents stood ramrod straight, their otherworldly faces as expressionless as Fae statues. The other Fae men didn’t move a muscle either. Nor did Piran or Tolmin.

  Had time frozen or something?

  A loud grunt from Piran’s father pierced the silence, and I jerked back, inadvertently elbowing Piran in the gut, or um, maybe lower. Piran’s not so quiet oomph resounded in my ears.

  “She does not even know proper decorum!” Piran’s father bellowed, gesturing at me. “Boorish Americans!”

  My mouth fell open. Americans? I blinked, not knowing whether to be relieved or not.

  Eyes dark, Piran’s father addressed his wife. “She lacks the common decency to curtsy. This is the girl our son adores?”

  A lump formed in my throat. Curtsy? I racked my brain, but couldn’t recall curtsying as a Fae greeting. Was a curtsy standard when meeting Fae parents?

  “When greeting royalty,” his mother murmured.

  “Roy-royalty?” I stammered.

  Piran’s father threw back his head and tossed out a bark of laughter. Piran gripped my hip, his body stiffening beside mine.

  The mirth on his father’s face vanished as quickly as it erupted. “Why, son?” he demanded harshly. “Why have you not told her?”

  My skin suddenly became too sensitive to be touched, and I tugged out of Piran’s embrace. Or maybe I just needed to stand by myself, without his intoxicating scent and physical presence to distract me. I turned and stared at him.

  “Told me what?” I asked slowly.

  “They are the King and Queen of Sava,” Piran said between clenched teeth, his nostrils flared. “The King and Queen of the largest province in the Fae realm. Do you understand?”

  The inside of my mouth felt sticky and my chest hot. I couldn’t tear away my gaze from his swirling gray eyes. “This means …”

  “My son is Prince Piran of the Sava valley, son of Maribor.” His mother’s lilting voice floated from somewhere off in the distance. As if coming from some magical land. Not the lobby of an arts university in downtown Chicago, where students and patrons milled around gawking.

  Prince Piran of the Sava valley. Did the school know? Did the other students?

  The realization settled unevenly. I took a step back. He told me his father was a businessman and landowner. Why was I just finding out the truth now?

  “You said you loved me, Piran, yet you kept this secret from me?” I couldn’t keep the hard edge out of my voice. “You lied to me.”

  “No,” he said in a pained whisper, reaching for me. “I did not lie to you.”

  Snatching my hand away, I retreated further. “You kept this from me on purpose. That’s a lie in my book. You could have told me you’re a damn Fae prince!”

  “Bailey, that is not who I am.” He closed his eyes, and a deep sigh crossed his perfect full lips. “I mean, that is not who I want to be. That is why I came here to America. To escape a life I do not wish to lead. To escape the expectations forced upon me.”

  As much as I tried to ignore the twinge of guilt in my brain and hold onto my anger at his deception, I couldn’t even begin to understand how it would feel to be in his shoes. The rules, the worries, the lack of privacy.

  “No, Piran. It is who you are,” I said softly. “You can’t change who your parents are and you can’t escape their expectations, no matter how far you run.”

  My gaze flicked to his parents, and their imperial expressions re-ignited the burn inside me, making me want to bare my teeth and growl like the uncultured American I was.

  I took another step back, away from the man I loved. “I need to go. I need time to think.”

  “No, Bailey, please.” He closed the distance between us and clutched my hand to his chest. “I need you.”

  I shook my head so violently, my skull hurt. “I can’t do this. Not right now.”

  My eyes stung, and my legs trembled. But mostly, my heart ached.

  He hadn’t trusted me with the truth. The man I dreamed of every night, fell in love with, and joyfully pleasured turned out to be somebody I didn’t know. A Fae prince.

  Nick was right. I’d been nothing but a plaything. A way to practice. A way for Piran to earn his human wings incognito.

  “No!” he rasped, his face a stark white.

  I stared at him, my heart torn apart and my emotions a jumbled mess. Part of me wanted to grab him, hold him close, and never let him go, even with his not-so-welcoming parents watching. But I didn’t. It could never work between us.

  He was a prince, and I was the furthest thing from a princess.

  His father’s disdainful snort scraped across my raw nerves, and I shoved off Piran’s hand, stumbling over my feet, catching myself at the last moment before I slammed into the stupid Venus sculpture. The Goddess of love. How fucking ironic.

  “I’ve got to get out of here. I need to find my mom. She’s probably looking for me.”

  I turned and staggered toward the lobby doors. I needed time. I needed distance.

  “Let her go,” I heard Tolmin say behind me.

  God yes, just let me go.

  Chapter 11

  I ran through the art gallery crowds and finally found my mother by the cocktail bar, talking to some woman.

  “There you are,” Mom said, catching my eye and waving me over. “I wondered what was taking you so long.” A sly smile spread over her slender face. “I take it you found Piran?”

  I didn’t bother answering. I just wanted to get out of there.

  “Bailey, you remember our former neighbor, Mrs. Lorenstein?”

  Oh crap. Not now. I shuffled my feet impatiently.

  “Yes.” I nodded to the woman I barely knew even though she’d live
d right across the street from us. I clasped my mother’s arm, gritting my teeth. “We need to go, Mom.”

  “But honey, I haven’t seen Piran’s paintings—”

  I tugged. “Another time.”

  “Is something wrong?” She studied my face, and the creases around her eyes tightened. “Oh boy. Something’s wrong.”

  Yeah. Understatement of the year.

  Mom gave a hasty goodbye to Mrs. Whatever, and I hustled her out the lobby doors. Immediately, I sucked the cool, fresh air into my constricted chest.

  “What happened?” My mother pursed her lips. “Did you two have a fight?”

  I couldn’t speak, afraid I’d scream from the top of lungs that Piran of Sava was a first-class jerk and I was an idiot…and that my heart had broken into a gazillion pieces.

  “Bailey, you can tell me.” Her tone soothing, she brushed a hand over my hair.

  “Piran lied to me,” I replied in a small voice, wanting to crumple into my mother’s arms, in a way I hadn’t in years. But before my emotions erupted in a meltdown in front of everyone, I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin.

  So my boyfriend hadn’t been upfront with me about his family. There were far worse lies. Maybe I was just blowing this out of proportion.

  “Oh honey. What did he lie about?”

  “Piran is a prince.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

  I took another deep breath to steady myself. “I just found out that Piran’s parents are the King and Queen of Sava, the largest Fae province.”

  Mom’s eyes widened, her mouth forming a tight, pink-frosted O. Then she turned and began walking toward the underground garage without saying another word.

  Maybe I wasn’t blowing this out of proportion after all.

  We continued walking to the car in silence. She opened the door for me, and I climbed in.

  “Mom?” I prodded, clicking my car seat buckle. I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking about her tomboy daughter dating a Fae prince. Self-conscious? Proud?

  She backed out of the parking space and put the car in drive. “Perhaps it’s time you cool things off with Piran.”

  While the idea had definitely crossed my mind, her words still felt like a knife in the gut. Part of me wished she would have at least recognized that a prince picked me.