Tristan seems civilized for a fae, not that I’ve come across any before today. I’m finding it hard to wrap my head around the possible existence of them. He looks deceptively human, aside from his vivid eyes. It makes my head spin, more so when I consider there’s a tiny chance he’s being truthful. I could be living among the fae without any knowledge. I could have family ties to the fae.
I scan the undecorated hallway outside the elevator, searching for a sign of hidden cameras, but find nothing. I’m cold, disconnected from my body, as if someone is going to jump out and tell me this whole thing is a prank. Or I’ll wake up any second, lying in my dorm room in a cold sweat, shivering from this nightmare.
Tristan asks me to follow him, and I concede, figuring I have a better chance at escaping if I’m somewhere with a window or a door. We step into the small elevator, and I put as much distance between us as possible. Tristan’s lips twitch in amusement, but I ignore him.
He doesn’t look at me as he speaks. “You’ll have to forgive me for Max’s behavior.”
I press my lips into a tight line and keep my eyes forward. “I don’t blame you for his behavior,” I say in a low voice. “I blame you for the fact that I’m still here.”
He nods. “I see.”
I lean against the wall and cross my arms. “You can’t keep me here.” My voice is quieter than I want. It lacks assurance, and I hate that.
“Have I said anything to lead you to believe I’m keeping you here?” he asks.
“Actions speak louder,” I retort. “I was chained to a fucking chair.”
He shifts his gaze over to me, but I refuse to meet it. “I had no plans to keep you here once I adjusted your memory. I don’t particularly enjoy keeping the company of someone who does not wish to keep mine.”
“Right, so then where does that leave us?”
He scratches along his jaw. “I can’t let you go yet. Not knowing what you do.”
I scowl. “How the hell is that my fault? I didn’t ask for this!”
“I understand that,” he says, his voice strained.
I shake my head, “Listen, I won’t tell anyone about what happened. About you, okay? You don’t have to be concerned about me.”
Tristan’s chest rises as he takes a deep breath. “This isn’t an ideal situation for either side. I put my people above all else.”
“That’s cool. Really. But I can’t stay here. You’ve got to find some way to convince your ‘people’ that I’m not a threat.”
His expression remains impassive. “Aren’t you?”
“Tristan, you kidnapped me. I don’t exactly have the upper hand here.”
His brows tug closer. “Let me offer you a deal.”
My eyes widen. “A deal?”
“There’s a female fae on your campus. I need her located.”
“Why?” I ask without thinking, as if I’ve accepted the existence of fae.
“That’s not your concern. You locate the girl and contact me to collect her.”
“Why would I do that?”
“To show me I can trust you. It’s simple enough.” Simple. How can he use a word like that in this situation? Nothing about this is simple. He’s acting as if I’ll go home, and this will no longer affect me, but no matter what happens when I leave, this—meeting him—will impact my future. I have a million questions I’m too scared to ask. There are so many possibilities I’m not allowing myself to entertain. All because of him.
A flash of anger lights up my entire body. “And if I refuse?”
“Don’t refuse,” he advises.
I swallow. “How would I know who you’re looking for?”
He seems pleased—almost relieved—that I’m both considering the offer and asking the right questions. “I can provide you with a charm that will allow you to identify her as one of my kind.” He’s put some thought into this.
“Magic,” I mutter under my breath.
“Just so,” he says as the elevator signals we’ve reached the top floor. The door slides open, revealing the large entryway of a penthouse suite.
Tristan sweeps his arm out and gestures for me to walk ahead. I don’t trust him, and it’s obvious from my expression. With a quick smirk, he exits first. At least I know I’m not walking into a trap. We stop at a door, which Tristan unlocks and opens before stepping inside.
I follow him, taking in my surroundings as I walk further into the suite. The sunrise beams through expansive windows that overlook the city, and the autumn sky illuminates the living room. Plush, black furnishings frame a glass coffee table, and a flat screen is attached to the wall above a lavish fireplace. The suite smells fresh and a bit like lemons, as if it’s just been cleaned. It also smells like him. A crisp, alluring scent I haven’t quite figured out, and one I’m fighting not to like.
I roll my eyes. “Of course you’re rich.”
“I’m a successful businessman.” He shrugs.
My cheeks burn. “So what? You glamour people into giving you money?”
Tristan bristles. “I have earned my wealth honestly.”
I walk past him and stand against the wall, that way I can’t be surprised from behind. I prop my foot against it, trying to look casual despite my racing pulse. He eyes my shoe and his lips twist; I’ve annoyed him. I decide in a matter of seconds that I don’t care.
“Where are we?” I glance around. “Earth?”
He presses his lips together against a smile. “I live in the human world, yes. We are able to reside here because we appear the same as you or any other human.” I want to roll my eyes again. He looks far too perfect to appear the same as anyone.
“Okay. Is there another, like, realm or whatever?”
He nods tightly.
My brows draw closer. “And you chose this one?”
He almost smiles. “Chose is a strong word. I think that’s a story for another time.”
I wrinkle my nose, shooting him a look that lets him know there won’t be another time. “Let’s get back to me going home. Because I’d like to. Now.”
“You’re uncomfortable,” he says, watching me with a spark of curiosity in his eyes.
“I’m confused.” I don’t elaborate. I won’t give Tristan any more ammunition to use against me.
None of this makes any sense. Tristan made someone disappear with the wave of his hand. There’s a good chance if he’s not the leader of the fae as he claims to be, he’s part of the mob with a wicked budget for special effects.
“This has been inconvenient for everyone involved.” He shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over a chair before rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. My eyes follow the movement, and I swallow thickly. Those arms . . .
I shake my head. “Inconvenient?” I remark incredulously, pushing away from the wall. “You think this was just a dent in my weekend plans? You kidnapped me! And now you want me help you kidnap someone else!”
He waits until I’ve finished shouting, then says, “However this seems, you’re not the only one at a disadvantage. You were kidnapped by accident, Aurora, but now you know about us. The fae magic that clings to you isn’t letting me remove your memories. My people expect me to protect their existence—that’s what being their leader means. Having you out there is a liability. I have no desire to kill a woman over a mistake, let alone one that is part fae. Work with me on this. It will help me sell my decision to . . . spare you.”
“Why do you need me for this? If you’re some powerful fae leader, don’t you have, like, an army of fae or something to go after your enemies? She’s one girl. I don’t get it.”
His jaw is clenched so tight his teeth must be screaming. “This matter isn’t one I’d like to make known on a large scale. Sending you resolves that problem.”
I lick my lips. “If it’s so serious, why are you trusting me with it?”
“You seem like a competent person, Aurora. Consider me impressed with your ability to escape Max.” He chuckles. “As for the girl in question, this is more of a preventative measure.”
My brows inch closer. “Meaning?”
“That’s not something you need to worry about.” He reaches into his pocket. “To ensure you identify the correct fae, here is a photo of Miss—”
“Fine,” I cut him off, snatching the wallet-sized photo from him without looking at it. “Let me go home, Tristan.” Maybe I should feel grateful that he doesn’t want to hurt me. No, screw that. Neither of us would be stuck in this position if he hadn’t sent Max out to kidnap someone. I push the thought away. I can’t allow myself to consider the possibility he’s telling the truth—that fae exist.
“Very well.” He walks toward another room, but I stay put and wait for him to come back. He returns and holds out his hand. Sitting in his palm is a bracelet with a circular, dark turquoise charm set around a dainty-looking silver band crafted to look like delicate tree branches. It’s pulsing with light. It must have batteries inside. “Put this on,” he instructs.
I take it from him, slipping it onto my wrist. Only after it’s on do I consider its potential negative effects on me. My eagerness to get the hell out of here is making me reckless. I need to keep it together. Nothing happens while I stand there staring at it, so I force myself to relax. “Great. Can I go now?”
“Once you have returned home, you will keep this bracelet on no matter what. Do you understand?”
I bite back my retort. I want to take the bracelet off and throw the damn thing at his head, but instead I nod. My teeth hurt from keeping my jaw locked, and I’m pretty sure I look feral.
“Charming,” he says. “The stone will illuminate in the presence of my kind.” He reiterates, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a business card. “Here’s my cell phone number. Call me directly and try your best not to alert her.” If this is a joke, his acting is impeccable. I almost believe him. This back and forth in my head is going to give me whiplash.
I take his card and slip it into my back pocket. “What if she notices?”
“It’s not a difficult task, Aurora.”
“Is that what you told Max?” I remark, my voice dripping sarcasm. “What’s to keep me from bailing on this little adventure once I’m home?”
“You’d like to test me?” he inquires, sizing me up like an animal surveying its prey.
I force a neutral expression. “It doesn’t seem like many do.”
A dark look passes over his face. “There’s a reason for that.”
“I’ve witnessed a lot of crazy today. If you want to scare me, you’ll have to do better than that.” We’re so close that his cologne tickles my nostrils, and I can feel his breath on my cheek.
His eyes narrow. “Who are you?”
“Guess you should’ve done your research before you kidnapped me,” I say.
“Had it been my intention to bring you here, I would have.” He licks his bottom lip.
Instead of replying, I glance at the bracelet around my wrist. The turquoise stone continues to pulse in his presence. I tug the sleeve of my cardigan to cover it. An uncomfortable weight settles on my shoulders, and a familiar tightness fills my chest. I try to swallow, but my mouth is too dry. I notice a slight shake in my hands and an increase in the pounding of my heart. I think I’m having a panic attack.
Tristan regards me with an odd expression. “Aurora?”
I shake my head and turn away, looking out the window as I try to force myself to breathe. Not a minute later, I feel his presence behind me and refuse to turn around.
“What are you studying?” he asks.
My forehead creases. “I . . . what?”
“Your major,” he clarifies. “What is it?”
I take a deep breath. “Business.”
“What year?”
“Fourth.” I take another breath, relieved to find my heart rate returning to a normal pace. “I’ll graduate in the spring.”
“Impressive. What are your plans after graduation?”
I laugh, leaving his question unanswered. I’m not about to bond with my kidnapper.
I turn around. “What are you doing?” I know what he’s doing, he’s talking me through my panic attack.
“Making conversation,” he answers.
“Well, don’t. We aren’t friends. After this situation is dealt with, we will never speak again,” I say, all of my anger and confusion backing the fierceness in my voice.
“Feel better?” he asks.
“Excuse me?”
“Does your pseudo sense of control over the situation make you feel better?”
I scowl and look away. “Don’t pretend you know anything about me.”
“A person learns a lot about someone when they pay attention.”
I need to get out of here. “You’ve given me the bracelet and your phone number. I know what I’m supposed to do. Now take me home.”
“All right, all right.” Tristan picks up his jacket and pulls it back on, buttoning the front, and nods toward the elevator. I follow him but stay on the opposite side. I may not be afraid of him, but that doesn’t mean I want him in my personal space.
The elevator stops on the main level. When we step out into the lobby, it’s clear I’m in one of the fanciest hotels in the city. The white marble floor and crystal chandeliers are a dead giveaway. A few men in dark suits pass by, nodding at Tristan, but shooting me hungry looks. Great. More arrogant men who stare at me like I’m something to eat.
“This is yours?” I ask, unable to hide my surprise. Under different circumstances, I would use this opportunity to pick his brain about business, but I’m not about to ask him for help.
“Yes,” he answers.
The lobby has a subdued atmosphere that comes with wealth. I’ve never considered a career in hotel management, but I feel an uncomfortable sliver of respect for my kidnapper. I immediately want to slap myself and insist it’s strictly professional interest.
Or Stockholm Syndrome.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Westbrook,” a chipper voice greets Tristan.
He smiles politely. “Good afternoon, Gloria,” he says and dismisses her with a nod. The older-looking woman walks over to the lunch buffet in the attached dining room.
“Friend of yours?” I ask with an arched brow, following him out the door.
“Her husband passed away a little over a year ago. She’s been staying here ever since,” he explains.
“That’s terrible,” I say. “And expensive.”
He stops at the curb in front of a fancy black town car. “My driver will take you home.”
I nod. It suddenly feels awkward, like I should say goodbye or something, which is insane. This wasn’t a pleasant visit or a meeting between friends. I’m lucky to be standing outside and not locked in that room.
Tristan opens the backseat door for me and stands behind it, waiting for me to get in. I slip into the car and buckle my belt.
Tristan leans inside. “Remember our deal, Aurora.”
I force a brilliant smile. “Has anyone ever told you how much of an ass you are?”
He mirrors my smile. “No one alive.”
I roll my eyes. “Good one.”
He closes the door and steps back onto the sidewalk. Keeping my eyes on Tristan, I tell the driver where to go. As we pull out into traffic, I watch as Tristan stands at the curb until I’m out of sight.
I stare out the window for a while before I realize I’m crying. I wipe the tears away only for more to fall. I’m no longer running on adrenaline. It’s quiet, and I have time to think. I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. I look, well, like a girl who was kidnapped and held captive for hours. My hair is in a tangle of messy, matted curls, and both my eyeliner and mascara have smudged almost all the way off since the party last night. The sight of myself sobers me up.
I glance at the clock on the dash; it’s just after noon. Last night seems like a long time ago.
I was kidnapped.
The driver clears his throat, and I startle from my reverie, unaware that the car has stopped moving. I glance at him for a moment and then go through the motions of undoing my seatbelt and opening the door to get out.
I wrap my arms around my waist and hug my cardigan closer as the car pulls away. It’s September, and the weather is still warm, but I’m shivering.
Allison isn’t home when I get to our room. I consider texting her but realize I don’t have my phone. Dammit. I must’ve lost it at some point during my escapades. I make a mental note to go out and get a new one. I don’t have the money for it, but I need a cell phone.
My eyes can’t stay away from the bracelet snaked around my wrist. The charm stares at me and makes my heart pound unevenly. This entire situation is so insane. I still can’t wrap my head around it. I can’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t risk putting any of the people I love in danger.
After a shower, I change into a pair of high-waisted shorts and a plain black tank top. I’m blow-drying my hair when I hear the door slam shut. I turn the blow-dryer off and peek into the bedroom to find Allison tossing her purse onto her bed.
She turns and looks at me. “There you are. You disappeared last night.”
Not by choice. “Yeah, I sort of met someone, and we went somewhere quiet to talk.”
She gives me a suggestive look and wiggles her eyebrows. “Oh, I got you.”
I cringe. “No, that’s not what I meant.”
“I’m sad I missed your walk of shame,” she teases.
I frown. “Thanks.”
“Are you hungover?” she asks.
I wish that’s what this was. “No. I’m fine.”
“You look like you need some strong coffee.” Her eyes flick across my face. “Dark circles for days.”
“I’m fine.” Okay, now I am lying. To my best friend. To her face.
“Okay then,” she mumbles.
I run my fingers through my hair. “I’m—”
“What the heck is that?” she cuts me off, her eyes wide.
I shake my head. “What is what?” I follow her gaze down to my wrist, and my mouth goes dry. The stone in the bracelet Tristan gave me, the charm supposedly designed to detect fae, is pulsing with light.