City of Fae (12 page)

Shay, the white-haired fae’s words came back to me:
He’ll seduce, because that’s how he uses your kind, but he can’t care.
Was Reign using me? Was I his newest distraction? A guy like him could have anything, or anyone. Maybe that was the point. I could be his distraction? Something to pass the time. Well, whatever he wanted, it didn’t matter, because it wasn’t happening. Now I knew I’d been feeling the effects of bespellment, I could watch for the signs and keep my distance.

Grumbling under my breath, I searched the Internet for mention of the queen. Nothing. I did find reference to the Keepers. Four fae who created the Fae Authority to police and manage their own kind. There wasn’t any mention of the Keepers having other tasks, and no mention of their names either. Charmaine, the BBC’s presenter, hadn’t been kidding when she said the Fae wouldn’t talk. They kept their secrets locked away behind dazzling smiles.

The TV report continued with news of how three high-profile fae had recently perished in unrelated incidents. Caroline’s name was mentioned and a library picture placed on-screen beside the cordoned-off house where I assume Reign’s after-party had taken place. Caroline had had a humble, slightly aged warmth to her that most fae lacked. She wore a gown of black lace interwoven with red ribbon. Black and red … Like the queen. Like Warren.

I thought of Reign’s face when he’d spoken of Caroline, of how he wouldn’t meet my eyes. He knew what had happened, probably knew who was helping the queen escape. I wasn’t likely to forget how he’d bowed down in front of her hideous spider self. Why would he help her? He said they were connected. How could a fae like him be connected to something like her? So many questions. “So many secrets,” I muttered.

Moving away from the laptop, I collected my used drinking glass and was about to rinse it under the faucet in the kitchen, when I spotted a spider the size of my hand hunched motionless beside the sink. After being stalked and drowned in the creatures, I no longer looked at the eight-legged freaks in quite the same way. Eight glistening black eyes watched as I kicked my shoe off and held up my makeshift mallet. “See this? This size seven is your funeral.” It skittered back, legs rippling. An electric jolt of fear and revulsion spurred me into action. I slammed my shoe down and shivered at the sickening crunch that signaled the demise of my unwanted housemate.

Reign had said she was always watching. I eyed my living room, looking for rippling shadows. Sleep was a long way off.

“Don’t move. Don’t make a noise. Stay very, very still. They’re watching.”

Reign’s tricolored eyes captivated me while all around there was darkness. It took a few moments for the fog of sleep to clear and for me to realize the pressure pushing down on me was Reign’s gloved hand clamped over my mouth, while the other hand rested on my waist. He must have seen my eyes widen, or heard the uptick of my heart, because he gave the slightest of headshakes. His lips tightened in a grim line, eyes flaring. Where was I? My bed. My room. But …

His words played over in my head.
They’re watching.
Oh no. Unable to move my head, I swiveled my eyes, sweeping my gaze into the dark. Whispers filtered through the quiet. The walls glistened.

Chest heaving, breath racing, I met and held Reign’s steady gaze. Panic clawed at my thoughts. My attention skewed sideways, slipping from his face to the ceiling, where the dark undulated like the surface of a lake. Slowly, I eased my hand beneath the pillow. My fingertips glanced across the smooth, cool dagger handle. I curled the weapon into my hand.

Reign leaned in. His lips skimmed my ear as he whispered, “Put your arm around me, I’m about to jump us out of here.”

I did as he asked, moving so slowly every inch seemed to last minutes. Heart hammering, I listened to Reign’s steady breathing.
Yes, concentrate on that
,
and not on how the walls move
. His hand slid easily around my waist, twisting my nightshirt and scattering a flourish of sensations beneath my skin that had nothing to do with the
touch
and everything to do with Reign’s proximity. He pulled me into a stiff embrace. The sensation of falling wrenched my instincts awake, but I clung on, and kept my eyes closed. Reign smelled syrupy, like something good enough to eat. I breathed the scent of him in while the world around me tipped and rolled. Even when my feet registered the ground beneath them, and my stomach stopped pitching, I still clung on. It felt good … being held. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had held me just for the sake of being close. My head against his chest, the rhythm of his heart beat against my ear and the warmth of him enveloped me. I could so easily have stayed like that. I wanted to stay like that. To be held.
Loved
.

Reign cleared his throat. “As delightful as this is.”

Oh!
I sprang away from him, flushed with embarrassment, and bumped into a table, knocking over a vase of long-stemmed roses. Water sloshed across the polished dark wood and poured over the edge of the table onto the very expensive-looking rug. Discarding the dagger on the table, I made a lunge for the vase, hoping to prevent it from toppling over the edge too. When I remembered I wore just a nightshirt and panties my lunge fell short. The vase slipped over the edge and shattered in dramatic fashion, while I lay sprawled across the table, giving Reign an uninterrupted view of my rear. I didn’t want to see his face.
Let the spiders just kill me now
. I slid off, planted my feet, cleared my throat, and adjusted my hair, all before lifting my eyes.

Reign leaned to one side, one hand gripping the back of a couch, one fine dark eyebrow arched and his wicked lips working to hold back the laughter. He’d slouched a little, leaning hard against the couch. “Do you … want some help?” he asked, not laughing, yet.

“I’m good,” I squeaked, yanking down my nightshirt in the hope it might cover my thighs. Reign’s gaze tracked the movement and I froze, trapped between embarrassment and anticipation. “So, uh …” A quick scan of the room: high ceilings, grand marble fireplace, hardwood floors, couches soft enough they’d swallow you whole. This had to be Reign’s place. “Thanks … I think. Um, this is kinda awkward.” Especially as the last time I’d seen him, I’d rammed my tongue down his throat, and now this.

“I was rather enjoying it.”

“Yes, well,” Another tug on my top, “I broke your vase.”

“I noticed.”

“I don’t suppose you could zip back and grab me some clothes?”

Amusement glittered in his eyes. “I’d prefer not to. That last trip left me drained. Unless you’d like to share some of your draíocht?”

His hungry look was not my imagination. I swallowed hard, trying to moisten my suddenly dry throat. His smile had waned, turned severe, as his gaze roamed. I pinched my lip between my teeth and shifted from one foot to the other. “No, I think I’ll be keeping my draíocht, thank you. Do you have anything I can wear?”

“Sure.” He drew in a breath and pushed off the couch to cross the room and disappear through a doorway.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” What was it about Reign that had me acting like a lovesick fangirl? I knelt and picked up pieces of the vase, placing them in a little pile, chastising myself under my breath.
All because I wanted a hug. Jeez, what kind of attention-starved female am I?
It wasn’t my fault. Being woken by Reign was intense enough without adding a room full of spiders to the mix. Damn those things. I’d spent over an hour going through every hidey-hole in my apartment, ridding the shadows of any suspect webs. Where the hell had they come from? How long had they been there? How long had Reign been there? How did he know just the right moment to show up?

Pain sliced into my thumb. With a yelp, I dropped the sharp vase fragment.

“Here.” Reign held out a slip of a dress, blue satin and lace.

Sucking on my bleeding thumb I took the garment with a frown. “Thanks, I think.” I mumbled.

“It’s Shay’s, and it’s all I have. Or one of my shirts?”

I so did not want him to see how the idea of wearing one of his shirts appealed to my bespelled mind. “No, this is good.” Featherlight in my hand, the dress probably looked like a million dollars on Shay. “I’ll … just …”

“Through the door, down the hall, second on the left. You can change in there.”

Reign’s apartment could only be described as regal. It put my little postage stamp of a home to shame. In my short trip to the bathroom, I counted five doors, and I had no doubt each would have a room behind probably five times the size of my entire apartment. The bathroom—where I quickly undressed—shone with accents of platinum and marble. A few half melted pillar candles flanked a gorgeous rolltop bath, and the towels screamed
touch-me
, which of course I did. If I had any misgivings about the worlds we came from, Reign’s luxurious apartment set me straight.

A quick once-over at my reflection revealed shadows under my eyes that had no right to be there. I raked wet hands through my hair and adjusted the dress. And what a dress. Designed as a gown for the beanpole fae, the lacy garment trailed around my ankles, climbed my thighs, hugged my waist and scooped at my cleavage in a scandalous fashion. On my human frame, it looked absurd. I had no idea how to wear such a thing with elegance, but it was better than the tee that barely covered my butt. With a dash of lipstick, some eyeliner, I might have actually passed for pretty. As it was, I looked like someone trying too hard to be fae and failing miserably. I turned my head and examined my profile. Maybe with some fae contact lenses and ear tips? Who was I kidding?

A soft musical beat drifted beneath the bathroom door and my expression tightened. It was time for answers. I couldn’t go on chasing my own tail. The spiders obviously had it in for me. What would have happened if Reign hadn’t shown up? I needed to know what those spiders were for. If Reign couldn’t tell me, I’d have to go to Under and get my answers there, get my evidence too. I gave my reflection a stern glare. “Don’t let him distract you with all the pretty, Alina. Get to the core of what’s going on here. Cut through the fae crap and find the truth.”

Yes, this was me, curious reporter, standing in the rock star Sovereign’s bathroom in a borrowed dress, poised to tell that smug-ass fae exactly what I thought of him and his bespellment. I could do this. Get my story. Get my life back. Get my act together. And get away from Reign and his toxic touch before it was too late.

I marched from the bathroom and found him pacing in front of his fireplace, phone pressed to his ear. Behind him a huge, ultrathin TV played music videos loud enough to muffle the sound his boots made as he strode back and forth.

His gaze skipped to me, snaked down my body and back to my face where he noticed my wry smile and held up a finger, mouthing, “I’ll be right with you.” I arched an eyebrow, spotted an open bottle of wine and two glasses on the ridiculously long coffee table and poured myself a splash.

From Reign’s flat tone and hurried, clipped words, I assumed he was talking to someone official, maybe his agent. He defended his disappearing act; sounding all the more irritated with each stride.

Glass of wine in hand, I wandered barefoot about the living room, weaving around couches, antique chairs and tables, with plenty of space to spare. Dark colors declared
masculine owner
. I’d assumed he wasn’t “involved” with anyone, at least the newspaper reports made no mention of steady relationships, although there had been plenty of unsteady ones. Shay though … He had a thing for Shay, that was obvious, and not just because he had her clothes at his place. In Under, when he’d swept an arm around her, they’d fitted neatly alongside one another, in that way perfect couples do.

Trailing my finger along the spines of books sandwiched in a tall freestanding bookshelf, I watched the enigma that is Reign out of the corner of my eye. His unbuttoned shirt billowed as he paced. Lean jeans-clad legs ate up the space in front of the fireplace. Shadows played over the sharp angles of his face. A startling image of me knotting my fingers in his hair and plundering his mouth with mine brought a rush of heat to my cheeks. Swallowing, I turned my face away as the tingling itch crawled up my arm. It was the bespellment.
Don’t let it distract you.
I could beat this. It wasn’t real. Everything I felt for him was a trick, a trap. A lie.

He abruptly ended his call and tossed the phone onto a table, muttering a curse. Spearing his hands into his hair, he tilted his head back and blinked at the ceiling with a low growl. “Everyone wants a piece of me.”

Ah, genuine exasperation. So he wasn’t untouchable, after all. “I can go—”

“No.” He hissed, and then softened the denial with a wry smile. “No. It’s … it’s been a long few days.” A quick glance at the door. Maybe he expected company. “I shouldn’t have come back here. The FA will be looking for me. But I wanted to see this place again before it’s taken away.”

“What do you mean?” The borrowed gown rippled like water with each tiny movement. It spilled over me, cool against warm skin. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn something so glamorous. Maybe I never had? Reign’s appreciative gaze wandered lower. Clearing my throat, I crossed my arms. He could undress me with his eyes all he wanted, it wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“You look delicious.”

“Oh no you don’t. I’m not falling for it anymore, pal. Detective Andrews was right about you.”

“Was he?”

“Yes, yes he was. He’s very concerned.”

Reign smiled and scooping up the bottle of wine and his glass, he strode closer. “Of course he is.”

“He is.”

“Is that so?” Closer still, his gaze locked on me like a predator stalking its prey.

“Yup.” Tucking my hair behind an ear, I looked away, anywhere but at Reign, but found my attention irrevocably pulled back to him. “He thinks I need saving.”

“From me?” He stopped within touching distance, firing off all manner of warning alarms in my head. For a few breathless seconds he looked at me, eyes unblinking and body still. Hunger burned in those remarkable fae eyes. He made no attempt to hide it, his glare daring me to turn away, if I could.