by Lexi C. Foss
“I want to learn more,” she said, her attention flickering between me and Kols before glancing up at our childhood home. “I want you to tell me about my mom.”
I shared a look with my brother. We both knew that subject would upset our mother. She’d been best friends with Siobhan Zorya, once upon a time.
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” I promised. “After we’re done talking to my parents.” It was a point I couldn’t debate.
Fortunately, she accepted it with a nod. “Okay.” She took a step forward, then paused. “Wait, you didn’t clarify the curtsying thing.”
Kols grinned. “I’d enjoy seeing that.”
“Fuck off,” I told him, focusing on her. “We don’t follow human formalities.”
“But we really should,” my irritating twin put in. He feigned a bow and glanced up at her from his position, his reddish-brown eyes twinkling. “Hmm, yes, I do enjoy the view.”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop flirting with my… Ella.”
She gaped at me. “Your Ella?” She snorted. “We might be on your home turf, but I’m still very much in charge of myself, thank you very much.”
Kols bit his lip to keep from laughing. I could practically hear him in my mind taunting, Have fun taming this one, brother. She’s a firecracker.
Well, I’d rather be intended to her than the bitch our society had lined up for him.
Being a second born certainly came with certain benefits.
Such as my ability to choose anyone of the royal line to wed.
Poor Kols never had a choice.
And his sobering expression now told me he knew it, too.
He cleared his throat and righted his spine. “This custom suits,” he said, holding out his hand for Ella. “I’m Kolstov. Family and friends—of which you are now—call me Kols.”
“He’s my twin,” I added. “Clearly not identical.”
“Yes, I was given the better looks,” he said as Ella pressed her palm to his. He brought her wrist up to his mouth to bestow a kiss upon her flesh, his gaze glittering as he caught me narrowing my eyes at him in response.
Stop flirting with my betrothed, I told him with a look.
Just having some fun, his resulting smirk seemed to say.
“Twins,” she mused, retracting her hand. “That’s dangerous.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Kols murmured. “Now come along, little Halfling. Our father is dying to meet you.”
“Little Halfling?” she repeated, snorting. “All right, cocky prince, let’s go.”
He arched a brow. “Cocky prince?”
“What?” She blinked innocently. “I thought we were giving each other nicknames.”
His lips curled. “Oh, I do like you.” He glanced up at me. “Good choice, brother.”
“Stop baiting her,” I retorted, folding my arms.
“Me? Bait someone?” He pressed a hand to his chest, right over his heart. “Never.”
Ella giggled and shook her head, causing me to frown. “Did you just laugh?”
“He’s funny,” she said, shrugging, her smile growing wider. “Charming, too. Why didn’t you send him to Darlington? I may have liked him.”
Ah, I see. “Now you’re baiting me.” I tsked. “Not a wise move, darling Ella. I’m your only ride home.”
“Home.” She scoffed. “That’s not a point in your favor, Nacht.”
“So I’ve lost two, then?” Because she said the same thing about my abducting her tonight.
“Oh, you’ve lost a hell of a lot more than that,” she snapped, turning a conversational tone toward my brother. “Did you know he tried to drown me?”
“Drown you?” He gaped at me. “Why the hell would you try to drown your ma—”
“Enough,” I growled, cutting him off. She doesn’t know yet, I tried to tell him with my eyes. “Let’s go inside,” I said out loud, his brow furrowing in a way that told me we would be talking more about that little slip later.
Ella didn’t seem to notice. She merely lifted a shoulder and flippantly said, “Sure. Why not?”
I knew better than to believe her nonchalant tone. Oh, she put on a strong front—likely born from years of having to protect her outward reactions—but beneath the surface, she boiled hot with questions. I could see it in the flare of her blue irises, her need to know more. Particularly about her mother.
Once we finished the family formalities, I’d do my best to assuage some of her curiosity. But a single night wouldn’t be enough. We’d only just begun to scratch the surface.
The look my brother cast me now said he knew it, too.
And he didn’t envy me at all. Not even a little.
Chapter Twelve
Ella
“Wow, this is your room?” It was almost, well, normal. Dark, masculine colors, a desk, a sitting area with feathery throws, and a balcony overlooking the back of the estate. Oh, and a giant bed framed by two nightstands.
I ignored that part of Tray’s quarters and gazed out at the double moon instead.
This was all so unreal.
Except his father had been just like every other dad I’d ever met. Apart from the whole king thing and the fact that he didn’t look a day over twenty-five, just like his wife.
So not exactly typical, but not outwardly bizarre either.
I shook my head.
“What are you thinking about?” Tray asked, handing me a much-needed glass of water.
I chugged it before replying, my throat parched after what felt like hours of dehydration. When I finished, he plucked it from my hand and wandered over to the cooler in the corner to refill it.
“What’s making you frown like that?” he pressed as he returned with my refilled cup.
I took another sip, sighing in contentment. So refreshing. I didn’t bother asking if it was poisoned or possessed by magic. At this point, it no longer mattered. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have. Instead, he seemed rather intent on providing me with explanations. Which I was begrudgingly grateful for.
“Ella?”
I cleared my throat and met his concerned gaze. “I was thinking about Reba and Malik. They don’t look old enough to be your parents.”
“Ah, yeah, we age very differently from humankind. Our first twenty years or so are similar, then it sort of crawls for a few centuries. Most Midnight Fae live to be five or six hundred years old.” He shrugged as if this wasn’t mind-blowing information. “You’ll notice it soon when you stop aging.”
I felt like a fish out of water, gasping for breath. “I… You’re saying…” I shook my head, clearing it so I could attempt a rational thought. “I’ll live five or six hundred years?”
He nodded. “Give or take a few decades, yeah. It’s pretty standard.” He palmed the back of his neck, a glimmer of unease darkening his gaze. “We typically heal faster than mortals, and human disease doesn’t impact us, but there are certain injuries we can’t recover from.”
“Like a head-on collision car accident,” I said, understanding the discomfort in his features. “The police said she died instantly.”
“Head trauma on that scale isn’t something a fae can survive.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry, Ella.”
“For what? For my loss?” I couldn’t help the bitterness of my words. “Why does everyone say that? They should say what they really mean. I pity you.” Because that was what it was.
“I meant I was sorry for bringing up a sensitive topic,” he clarified, his posture stiffening. “But I don’t pity you, Isabella. Your life experiences are the core of your strengths. Feeling sorry for the losses you’ve endured would belittle the woman you’ve become, which would be unfair to both of us.”
My annoyance cooled, his statement throwing me off guard.
Nothing this guy said or did added up to my expectations. Each time I made up my mind on something, he did the opposite. Almost as if he was born to taunt me.
“Now what are you thinking?” he asked, suspicion in his exp
ression.
“You mean vampires can’t read minds?”
He scoffed at that. “We’re fae, sweetheart. Vampires are a legend.”
“You drink blood,” I reminded him.
“Sparingly.” He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, leaving me to either stand in the open space of his lounge area or sit on the sofa.
I chose the sofa. As soon as my butt hit the cushion, a wave of exhaustion overwhelmed me. Damn, what time is it anyway? I wondered, glancing at the balcony beyond. The darkness hadn’t let up since our arrival, suggesting it was maybe three or four in the morning. Assuming time worked the same here.
A bubble of a laugh caught in my throat. Here, I repeated to myself. In Faeland.
Magic lurked in every corner despite the modern decor of the home. Oh, there weren’t any hellhounds or anything, just a sense of ethereal energy in the air. Flames had danced over Kols’s fingertips on several occasions. At one point, he flicked one over to Tray that he’d deftly caught and smothered beneath a shadow of embers.
I’d watched in awe, every passing moment driving home the realness of this world. I’m half-fae, I thought for the thousandth time tonight. But I didn’t feel gifted.
“What if my power never manifests?” I wondered out loud. “Do I go back to Darlington?”
“The better question is, how do we break the binds on your magic?” he countered, pushing off the wall to join me on the couch. He took up the opposite end, bracing his back against the arm of the sofa and drawing up one knee while leaving the opposite foot on the ground.
I mimicked his position so we could face each other. “Is it normal for a Halfling to have to ‘break the binds’?”
“No. But nothing about your background is considered normal, Ella. You didn’t even know you were half-fae until tonight. The few who exist all grew up with parents who knew how to help foster the growing powers.”
“While my mother died when I was twelve,” I said, thinking. “So why didn’t my father say anything?” He’d died a few years later, shortly after marrying Clarissa.
“He likely didn’t know.” Tray shifted a little, his suit pants stretching across his thighs. My dress swallowed up half the couch, the skirt rustling with my every move.
How silly we probably appeared, sitting casually in our formal wear, talking about vampire-like fae.
“Your mother had to know her relationship with your father couldn’t last,” Tray continued, clearing his throat. “Mortals age much faster than we do. She’d still be in her early years of life when he passed. Thus, it’s likely that whatever she felt was fleeting, but perhaps she stayed because of you.”
I held up my hand to stop him. “My parents loved each other.”
“I have no doubt they did, but humans love differently than fae do, Ella. Consider how easily your father moved on. If he had been a fae, that wouldn’t have been possible.”
My blood heated at the mention of my father moving on quickly. Because yes. Yes, he did. And it was a point that bothered me at the time and still irked me now.
How could a person who professes to love someone allow another woman into his life in less than a year? I was still mourning my mother’s death the day he told me he was engaged to Clarissa. They’d wed soon after, gifting me two evil stepsisters and a stepmother who could hardly stand to look at me.
“You have all your mother’s features,” she’d told me countless times. “A pity, really. I never did understand what your father saw in her. I suppose it was kind of him to take her in off the streets, though.”
I shuddered, recalling her scathing tone and the implications of her words. The wicked witch often claimed my mother was a miscreant who lived on my father’s wealth and generosity. It took considerable effort not to point out the irony in her accusations. However, I bit my tongue because the last thing I wanted was to draw her attention to my mother or the finances she left behind in my name.
“We should get some rest,” Tray said, standing. “I’ll find you something more comfortable.”
That wouldn’t be hard. The satin gown, while beautiful, was not the most pleasant evening attire. Although, I probably could make a bed out of the puffy skirt.
Tray returned with a shirt and a pair of boxers and pointed to a door in the corner that led to a colossal bathroom decorated in ebony marble and silver fixtures. “Wow,” I breathed, taking it all in. If Satan had a bathroom, it would look like this. Maybe with the addition of a fireplace.
Shaking my head, I set the clothes on the black countertop and untied the ribbon at the base of my spine. The corseted top had been laced up my back by the dress shop owner.
And I had no idea how to loosen it after undoing the bow.
I nibbled my lip, considering my options.
Scissors? I searched the drawers. Nope.
Try to tug it off? I danced around a few paces, gripping the satin and pulling without any success. Actually, it only seemed to make matters worse.
Light it on fire? Yeah, no, I valued my skin too much for that.
Which left me only one, very uncomfortable, idea. “Tray?” I called, looking upward and inwardly cursing my fate.
“Yeah?” he appeared in the doorway in a pair of gray pajama pants.
Nothing else.
I’d seen him shirtless earlier this week, but somehow he appeared even more sculpted and defined now. It had to be the lighting. Every divot on his chest and abdomen was clearly etched, as if he were made of stone. Only, he radiated heat, his skin a soft tan color that contrasted with my pale skin.
Definitely not very vampy, in terms of the legends.
But the sinful curve of his mouth certainly appeared wicked. “Ella?” he prompted, arching a reddish-brown eyebrow.
Uh, right. I’d called him in here.
With a shake of my head, I turned to give him my back. “Can you help extract me from this satin prison, please?” I met his gaze in the mirror. “Or, if you have something sharp, can I borrow it to cut myself out of this thing?”
He studied my gown as he considered. “Ruining such a beautiful dress would be a shame, Ella.” He pushed off the door frame. “I’ll loosen it for you.”
I gripped the counter, my limbs locking as he tugged on the ribbon hanging off my tailbone. Warmth climbed up my neck, a result of his nearness and the woodsy aftershave taunting my senses. Why did he have to be so damn hot? Was it a fae thing? Because Kols was just as attractive as his brother. And their father also possessed a handsome charm, only heightened by his youthful appearance.
Vampires were notoriously good-looking, right? At least in legend. So maybe all the fae were, too.
An entire world of sexy males with penchants for biting. Talk about a real-life wet dream. I swallowed and closed my eyes. Clearly, I need a nap. Because these types of thoughts were not okay or desired or even mildly appropriate. Especially with Tray standing so close to me.
Undressing me.
Caressing me.
I shivered as his breath kissed my exposed shoulder, the air between us seeming to thicken with every inhale. The fabric slowly loosened around my waist, the ribbon releasing a soft sifting sound as he unthreaded each loop. Goose bumps pebbled down my arms, my gloves long forgotten somewhere in the house. Or had I removed them in the limo? I couldn’t remember, my focus entirely owned by the man behind me.
Fae, I mentally corrected. But he certainly feels like a man.
My stomach twisted, butterflies taking flight in my lower belly. His kiss earlier had consumed my mind, body, and soul, introducing me to sensations I’d only ever read about. But was it him or the magical powers he possessed? He’d promised it wasn’t compulsion, yet it’d felt a lot like falling under the influence of a hypnotic drug.
Maybe I should kiss him once more to see if it happens again? I blinked open my eyes to gape at myself for the idiotic notion.
And found Tray watching me in the mirror, his gaze a smoldering black that stole the air from my lungs.
“It should be loose enough now,” he whispered.
“Thanks,” I managed to say, my throat dry.
He gave a nod and disappeared, leaving me to change. Or maybe to breathe. Both were tasks I needed to do.
I quickly exchanged the satin for the comfort of his cotton shirt and boxer shorts. Then I wasted some time in the bathroom finger-brushing my teeth and whatnot. My cheeks weren’t as rosy in color by the time I returned to the bedroom, but my skin still felt hot all over. Which only intensified when I found him lounging on the couch with all those abs still on display.
He popped up onto his feet without a word, brushing by me as he wandered into the room I’d just left.
Right.
This wasn’t awkward at all.
I eyed the bed against the wall, then took in the seating area. The sofa seemed safer. So I retrieved a few pillows and I was just putting them on the sofa when Tray returned. “I’ll, uh, sleep here,” I told him without looking at him.
“The hell you will,” he retorted. “You’ll take the bed. I’ll be on the couch.”
“It’s your room,” I reminded him. “And I’m perfectly fine with the sofa.”
“You’re right; this is my room. Which means you’ll be taking the bed, Isabella. End of discussion.”
Oh, no, he did not just try to command me. I spun around to face him, hands on my hips. “You can’t make me sleep somewhere I don’t want to sleep.”
“Why do you have to be so difficult?” he asked, his expression and tone one of stark exasperation as he stalked toward me and pointed over my shoulder. “Just take the damn bed!”
“I don’t want to sleep in your bed!” I shouted, right into his face.
“Why the hell not?” he demanded.
“Because I… It’s the principle of the matter, Tray.”