REELING FROM THE second major rejection in my life, I ran—heading anywhere I could as long as it was away.

I was so shaken, scared, and confused, that I honestly didn’t even care what happened to me anymore. I wanted a refuge from the agony, but it was impossible because the pain came from places deep within me.

Days and nights passed in a blur of absolute cold and hunger. Even the heat of my body wasn’t enough to keep me going. The lack of food meant I had very little energy to spare. Compelled to escape the darkness that had taken root in my soul, I continued wandering aimlessly until I was to the point of collapsing. After the latest rejection I’d suffered at the hands of Brian, any modicum of hope I’d had for happiness had ebbed away.

By the time I reached New York City, on an unusually cold April evening, I had no recollection of how I’d gotten there or where I really was—I barely even knew who I was.

My meals were scarce, stolen or sourced from trashcans. Showers and hygiene were both practically non-existent. My hair, which after leaving Charlotte had always been in a high ponytail, clung together in clumps that rested heavily against my dirty face. The red-golden sheen shone through occasionally despite the layers of oil and grime.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t even attempt to conceal my true identity—if the Rain saw through the dirt to realize what I was and caught me, I figured they would probably be doing me a favor. The words I’d said to Clay came back to haunt me. It would have been kinder for him to kill me—at least I wouldn’t have had to suffer through my misery.

Although it did little to keep the biting Manhattan wind away from my skin, I clung tightly to the one coat I had. It hung so loosely on my frame that I almost could have wrapped it around myself twice. Eventually, somewhere near a darkened alley, my legs gave out beneath me. Forcing myself back onto my feet, I dragged myself into the alley and hid beneath some scaffolding.

Hunger caused my stomach to twist wickedly in on itself as the cold wind scorched my desiccated throat. If anyone cared enough about my appearance or behavior to question me, I didn’t think I would have a voice to respond. Everyone I encountered rushed away, with both their gaze and feet giving me a wide berth. The few people who did bother to look my way in pity quickly turned their heads away, no doubt in response to the dead and empty look in my eyes.

Throughout the freezing night, I shivered against the cold and wet, sleeping for no more than a few minutes at a time. By the time dawn came, I was practically frozen in place. There was no way that I could pick myself up and start walking again; I barely had enough strength in me to even lift my head. Thinking about the peace I might have if I succumbed to the environment and never moved again, I closed my eyes and let my body sink closer to the ground.

With my eyes closed, I drifted in and out of consciousness, only aware of a light hum of activity from the streets. At one stage, I was with Clay again in my dreams—we were back in the warehouse and sharing sweet kisses once more. Almost the instant our lips touched, I was stripped bare and laid out on display for him as his voice, which had mingled with another more recent one, shouted at me. “You’re a fucking freak! How could you just pretend that you’re normal?”

Bile burned my throat as an empty stomach heaved in its attempt to purge a meal that had never entered my body. Twisting my neck so that my face was pressed against the ground, my body continued to convulse violently even as the concrete wore a wound into the skin of my forehead. Exhausted from my nightmares and lack of sustenance, I wanted nothing more than to lie still and wait for my inevitable death. My acceptance of my own end was interrupted by a voice that whispered deep into my very soul.

It promised a different form of solace if I would just choose to drag myself away from my dank hiding spot. I needed only stand and, placing one foot in front of the other, lead myself back into life. Despite all the evidence against a meaningful and fulfilled existence, it made every effort to convince me that I would one day be happy.

Hope is coming, and with it, a new peace. You’ve just got to keep moving. Just keep yourself alive.

It was a voice I recognized as the sunbird’s, unwilling to give up despite my own reluctance to be forced to endure seeing another day through to the end just to wake and begin again in misery.

Eventually, I was able to pull myself back up into a sitting position, and as I did, I found that I was no longer alone in the alley. Crouching down and assessing me, with curiosity etched into every inch of his youthful face, was a strange but oddly beautiful man. The way he looked at me like he could see right to the depths of my soul, made me uncomfortable. I tugged my thin coat tighter around my body. My next reaction was to turn away from the intensity of his gaze, but I was compelled to look back at him again. The sunbird recognized something in him that I didn’t understand.

For a moment, I stared at him. I took my time to examine his features. As I did, I tried to set my chin proudly. Only the dirt and filth caked on me caused me to shrink back into myself a little.

As I watched him, I couldn’t place what was unusual about the way in which he considered me. It was as if something was missing in his gaze compared to the way everyone else had looked at me lately. It took me a moment to figure out what it was.

Pity.

Disgust.

There wasn’t a trace of either in his vivid blue eyes. In fact, one corner of his mouth lifted into a wry smile. A scar cut through his left eyebrow, giving him a heightened air of curiosity. He tilted his head to the side, and his dark hair fell across his face, ending just low enough to caress his impossibly high and sharp cheekbones.

Appearing satisfied with his appraisal, he brushed his hair back from his face, stood and offered me his hand. I stared at the outstretched limb for a moment, uncertain of what he could possibly want with me. Deciding to ignore the offered help, I held my jacket tight around my body and, with great effort, pushed myself to my feet. I stumbled slightly, leaning against the wall for support as everything came back into focus. Knowing there was nothing good that could come from being alone with a man in an alleyway, I turned my back on the stranger, who for some inexplicable reason seemed overly interested in me. I stumbled away on my wobbling legs, which threatened to fail with each new step, in an attempt to put some distance between us.

Almost instantly, he was by my side, matching me stride for stride.

“I’m Aiden,” he said.

I nodded vaguely and tried to walk faster, against the will of my protesting body.

“I can help you,” he said as he sped slightly to match my pace.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, it became clear what he was looking for. Folding my shoulders forward, I hoped I could collapse in on myself and not have to have this conversation. There was only one way it would go: he would offer his aid in exchange for services.

I’d received the offer before and had refused it each and every time.

Maybe I was lonely and even willing to die, but I wasn’t so far gone that I’d willingly prostitute my body and soul to the highest bidder. Even if they did look like someone who’d walked out of the pages of a catalog. I wasn’t willing to let anyone near me again after what I’d been through with Brian.

He stepped in front of me, blocking my path to the road and to safety. I tried to heat my skin and prepare to fight him off, but I barely had enough energy to remain standing let alone generate fire.

“I have no ill intentions. Please, I want to help you,” he said softly.

Resigning myself to the fact that I would have to speak to him if I wanted to get away, I asked, “Why?”

“Because that’s what we do. I have a family who can help you.”

With great effort, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. A nutjob was one thing; a nutjob who thought he was saving the world was another matter entirely.

“I don’t need your help.” The scratchy tone in my voice, the result of a parched throat and too much exposure to the elements, belied my words.

Looking around momentarily, he leaned forward and placed his lips next to my ear. His action should have caused me some unease, but the sunbird forced me to remain still. “I know what you are.”

There was only one logical explanation I could think of for someone having that knowledge.

The Rain had found me.

Smiling at the inevitability of it all, I held my arms open wide. “Do your worst then. I’m ready. More than ready.”

Tilting his head to the side and raising his scarred brow, he stood silent for a moment. Then he grabbed my hand and tugged me toward him. “Come with me then.”

Pulling me onto the street, he walked quickly and with a sense of purpose. I stumbled along beside him, wondering whether I should try to fight him off or just accept my fate. Honestly, acceptance just seemed that much easier. It said something of how far into the abyss I’d sunk that even the thought of never seeing Clay again wasn’t enough to make me fight—part of me was certain I’d never again lay eyes on him again regardless of how long I lived.

We walked a block and a half before Aiden directed me into a tiny deli. As I entered the building, I tugged at the ends of my jacket to ensure that it was closed tightly around me. He pulled me into a back room and pointed at a long wooden table already set with cutlery and an assortment of crockery.

“Come, sit,” he said, leading me to a chair.

Almost instantly, three other people appeared, each one placing a tray full of food in front of me before withdrawing again. My eyes widened at the selection: roast meat and vegetables, bread rolls, chicken noodle soup, lasagna, and at least three different types of cake. Helping himself to a plate, Aiden sat in a chair to my left. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply of the amazing scents wafting from the food.

I was reluctant to open my eyes again, believing that I was once again deep within a dream. If I was, it didn’t provide me any comfort. The best, brightest dream could become the darkest nightmare.

“Eat,” Aiden prompted.

Opening my eyes again, I looked at him skeptically. People didn’t just feed other people, not without an ulterior motive. If he was one of the Rain, why wouldn’t he once and for all end the charade by killing me? If not, I didn’t understand what he was doing by bringing me here.

Playing with the ends of my sleeves, I asked, “What do you want from me?”

“Want?” He tilted his head in question. “I don’t want anything. Well, I guess that’s not technically true, is it?” He seemed to ask himself more than me.

My uncertainty over the situation grew in my stomach again, overpowering the wondrous scents. I was nauseated rather than hungry.

“I want to help you, nothing more.”

“But, why?”

“Because that is what I do—my family and I. We find people that are down on their luck, and we help them to get back on their feet.”

The way he emphasized the word told me he meant anything but “people.”

“I don’t understand,” I admitted. “What are you?”

He grinned widely, his lips stretching proudly over a set of pristinely white teeth. “Fae.”

“Fae?” I repeated. The word sounded at once familiar and yet unknown.

“Yes, that’s right—fae.”

“I don’t understand,” I admitted.

“Please do not make me use the other word,” he said, before dropping his voice to a whisper. “It is absolutely demeaning.”

Lost like Alice stumbling too far down the rabbit’s hole, I waited for a moment for him to elaborate. To say something—anything—that made sense.

“Fine, if you must force me to say it,” he grunted. “Fairy,” he whispered in a disgusted tone.

“What?”

“Please, do not make me repeat myself.” His lips set into a grimace.

“I don’t understand.”

He sighed. “That is what I am.”

“A fairy?” I asked. The image that immediately popped into my head was of a tiny woman with wings buzzing around like an insect. I was sure my face showed my confusion over his use of the word to describe himself.

“Do you see!” he whined. “It is a simply disgraceful term to apply to a male of my stature.”

An involuntary giggle slipped past my lips, and his grin stretched wider in response to the sound. Finally, the knot of concern was beginning to unravel enough that the promise of food seemed almost too much to resist.

“That is a much better look,” he said, victorious. “Now, eat up. I promise it is not poisoned.”

Staring at the food in front of me again, my stomach growled loudly.

“If you’d poisoned it, you wouldn’t exactly say you had though, would you?” I asked.

“Ah, but if I had poisoned it, I would not tell you that it was not either because now you have it in your mind that it might be and will become more cautious with every bite, never certain whether you will first be full in the belly or lying flat on your back in eternal rest.”

“I’m lost,” I admitted.

“That is precisely why you should never enter a battle of wits with a fae. Much better to enter their homes and enjoy their hospitality.” He winked at me before leaning across the table and filling a bowl with soup. He held it out for me like it was a precious gift. “Now, eat.”

The heat from the dish welcome against my cold fingertips. Warmth radiated back into the depths of my body and revitalized the sunbird. A good meal and some time inside would be enough to satiate her for a while. Placing the bowl on the table, I reached for a spoon and tried some of the soup.

Closing my eyes, I relished the sensation of the warm liquid pouring over my parched throat. Satisfied that I was finally getting some nourishment, Aiden continued with his own meal.

“I have a confession,” he said after a few minutes of eating in silence. “When I said I knew what you are, I was not entirely truthful.”

Swallowing another mouthful of soup, I asked, “What do you mean?”

“I know that you are something other, obviously. It is impossible to ignore that fact. A single glance could confirm it for me because your aura is positively on fire. I am merely left a little uncertain as to exactly what you are.”

“Does it really matter?” I asked. Telling my story didn’t come easily to me. Even though he’d given me no reason to doubt anything he’d said so far, he hadn’t done anything to actually earn my trust either.

His eyes narrowed as he assessed me. “Maybe not, but will you confirm it for me if I do guess your true nature correctly?”

I shrugged, figuring that there was little harm in letting him guess. “Sure, why not?”

“Certainly nothing I have encountered before, so something a little higher on the exotic scale than my usual acquaintances.” He waggled his eyebrows at me as he said the word “exotic” before popping a piece of bread into his mouth.

While he thought, I continued to eat in silence. Grabbing a small plate, I piled up a little of almost everything. Despite my hunger, I ate with care. As good as it was to eat, my empty stomach twisted.

“Banshee?” he asked suddenly before shaking his head. “No, you do not have”—he pointed toward his throat—“the voice.”

Knowing that I’d probably overdone the food a little, considering it was my first meal in a number of days, I leaned back in my seat. “Is that your best guess?”

“Au contraire, I have only just commenced my speculations.” Shaking his head, he grinned widely. “However, if you will not tell me what you are, will you at least concede who you are? I have given you my name; will you not give me yours in return?”

Recognizing that I hadn’t keeled over from the food and that there weren’t any guns being pointed at me, I decided that I could trust him with the basics, like my name. “Evelyn.”

He shook his head. “Nope, definitely not. It is not at all suitable.”

“What’s not suitable? My name?”

Tilting his head to the side, he stared at me. “You do not look like an Evelyn. You look more like a Lynda. Yes, that is far more suited to you.”

“But my name’s Evelyn.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why did you choose that name?” he asked.

“I didn’t choose it, it was given to me.”

“So you have been encumbered with a name in which you did not have a choice? That hardly seems fair. In fact, it is an extraordinarily human concept.” He flashed me another cheeky smile. “So . . . something raised by humans then, but certainly not a changeling. There is nothing remotely fae about you.”

“You’re strange. You know that, right?” I asked.

“We are all of us a little strange if you were to dig deep enough.” He laughed. “If you insist that your name is Evelyn, which I am still not entirely sure you should, can I at least call you Lynnie? It is a fairer sounding name for a fairer looking lady.”

“Most people call me Evie,” I said. My eyes fell to the table as I thought about all the people who had called me that—all the people who were now lost to me forever. Maybe it was time for a change. “But Lynnie’s fine.”

“Well, Lynnie.” He grinned widely at the nickname. “I probably should have mentioned about the food.”

“It is poisoned, isn’t it?” I asked, gulping at the queasy sensation in my stomach. Maybe he was Rain after all, and he just wanted to trick me into admitting I was something other before he killed me. As I glanced around for a quick exit, the world shimmered and my head spun.

“No, it is not tainted by poison, but it is enchanted.”

Colors I hadn’t known the human eye could see appeared around objects in a hazy glow filled my mind. Everything took on a different perspective than ever before.

“I do apologize for the ruse,” he said with a grimace. “However, you need to be a fae or enchanted by one to enter my court. Aside from that, you really did need a good feed.”

Looking around the tiny room, it seemed to shift and change the more I swept over the area: a long brown table filled it one moment, a white-marble table the next. Pressing the heel of my palms into my eyes, I tried to rub away the images. There almost appeared to be two worlds pressing against each other in the tiny space—one small and sparsely decorated, the other massive and ornate in stark white, grays, and gold.

“It is a little disorienting at first, but I guarantee you will soon find it very normal. You have a fire in you that will enable you to handle it well.”

“You see all of this too?” I asked, shaking my head slightly to try to separate the images in my mind.

“This is how I see the world all the time,” he said. “Focus on me; that will ease your mind into the adjustments to your vision.”

I turned my gaze to Aiden, before snapping my eyes closed. In the brief second I’d seen him, wisps of light—varying shades of blue—spiraled around his already otherworldly face. A vibrant, royal blue that almost matched his eyes was the most dominant in the colorful swirls.

“Open your eyes slowly,” he said in a soft, patient tone. “Concentrate on my face, and not on my aura.”

Following his instructions, I opened my eyes and looked beyond the bright blue lights that seemed to pulsate around him. Focusing on his eyes, I was finally able to see the world without nausea overtaking me.

With my newly intensified sight, I could easily see there was nothing at all human about him, despite the façade he’d shown since finding me in the alley. His beauty was infinitely more enhanced in the new world, his skin almost opalescent.

From his back, two huge wings extended out to either side in a color that was completely unlike anything I’d ever seen: translucent like glass but at the same time, an incredibly vivid blue. The shape of the unusual extremities was reminiscent of a butterfly, stretching away from his body in four uneven segments.

The top two sections were wide and broad, extending upward away from his body and ending at a peak that roughly lined up with the tips of his ears. The bottom portions were slender and appeared more delicate, beginning at a spot a little above his thin waist and tapering outward to end a little lower than his hips. Along each of the edges of his wings, the bright blue darkened to black before ending in tattered borders.

I raised my hand because part of me wanted to reach out and touch the unusual sight, but I wasn’t sure if he would be offended. Forcing my fingers into a fist, I pulled my arm back to my side.

“That’s . . . different,” I said quietly as I moved from side to side to assess his wings.

He laughed as he showed off by flexing his wings so that they opened and closed slowly. It was quite an exquisite display.

“Can I . . .?” I trailed off, embarrassed for even thinking the question, but dying to know what fairy wings were really like. Would they be cold and hard as glass, or soft and warm like velvet? “Can I touch them?”

He raised his scarred eyebrow at me. “That is quite an intimate request to make.”

I blushed with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“Never mind. You should hardly be expected to know better. It is just not a question I get asked very often. Touching wings is almost as intimate as kissing. Not something you do with complete strangers.”

I grimaced regretting even asking the question. He didn’t appear overly concerned though, brushing it off with a shrug.

“Come away with me,” he said as he stood and offered me his hand. “I will show you a side of New York the likes of which I guarantee you have never before seen.”