TWENTY-FOUR
FAELAN
After Sage left to get ready, I didn’t have the balls to call Marius and tell him what’s coming tonight when she’s asked who she chooses for her protector—how it’s probably not going to be me. How it might even be bloody Kieran at this point for all I know. Because I fucked it up.
Instead I went for a swim and showered, reciting Beowulf to quiet the commotion in my head. I’m in an extremely pissy mood by the time I’m ready. I can’t stop thinking about how I grabbed her—what the hell was that? And after what Kieran did to her . . . dick move. I know too little about practicing patience. I was never the right one for this task—I’m not sure what Marius was thinking.
I can hear Aelia’s coven out by the pool, and I don’t want to leave my cottage. So I sit in the greenhouse and wait for the sound of Sage’s door opening across the walkway.
Time passes slowly. As it becomes obvious we’re going to be late, I consider walking over and banging on Sage’s door. But the less time I spend with her right now, the better.
My head is too big of a mess.
But it’ll be over now, if she’s decided against me. And that should be a relief. I’ll just go into retirement like I planned—if Marius doesn’t have me sanctioned for my failure in handling this. Somehow, the rocky shores of Erin don’t sound as tempting as they did a few days ago, though. Not when I have this bloody compulsion to help her, to be there watching. I need to get my shit together.
I hear her door click open. When I step out on the front porch I spot them, Aelia and Sage, and—my thoughts go still, every part of me focusing on the redhead walking across the patio toward me. She’s stunning. Not beautiful in a typical sense: her edges are sharp and something about her clothes doesn’t quite match her personality. But she’s arresting. Everything in me wants to touch her.
I clench my hands into fists and step back.
“What’s wrong, Faelan?” Aelia asks with a smirk. “Don’t you think Sage looks nice?”
“Her dress is too short,” I say.
“Wow, that face,” Victoria says. “You look completely repulsed, hunter.” And she giggles, like she’s pleased with the idea. “You should’ve seen her an hour ago.”
I didn’t mean to feed the sharks. I glare at her before I turn to Sage, ready to apologize. But when I see Sage’s expression, my words evaporate. I swallow hard. She’s not looking at me, but there are threads of embarrassment and discomfort filtering from her shoulders. It makes me want to tear into the vapid Victoria, and tell her that her lipstick and caked-on eye makeup make her look like one of the trollops who used to stroll around outside the pub in my old village.
Instead I say, “You look nice, Sage.” When her eyes move to mine in surprise, I feel the need to add, “You’re very put together.” And then I clear my throat, because it’s either that or I keep digging the hole.
“You did a fabulous job, Aelia,” Freya says. “She’s amazingly less gross.”
“Pretty,” Rayane says.
“We need to go,” I say a bit too harshly.
“Sage should walk in with us, I think,” Aelia says. “They need to know she has more of us than just my father behind her.”
I look over at the four girls, Aelia and her coven, and wonder what she thinks they’ll prove, walking in with Sage. My guess is she thinks Sage’s future status will help raise her own clout. I don’t like the idea of Sage being used as a prop by Aelia.
“She comes in with me,” I say, “and you can follow.”
Aelia gives me an irritated look, but she doesn’t argue. “Fine, but only because I think that’s what Daddy would want, not because you said so.”
“Whatever, woman.” I motion for Sage to follow me. “Come on.”
Aelia moves into my space, more than irritated now. “Don’t call me woman in that condescending tone! Male.” She whooshes past, her hair flicking my arm, saying over her shoulder, “You could’ve put more effort into that outfit, you know. Off-brand slims, seriously? Should’ve worn the Calvins I got you. At least leave your hair down for a change.”
Her entourage follows her, Freya glancing back at me with a wink. “I think you look yummy,” she whispers. “That sweater is super touchable.” And then they all flitter away on their designer heels, long hair flowing behind them, leaving Sage and me alone.
Sage watches them go like she wishes she could follow.
“Would you rather go with them?” I ask.
She turns back and gives me a wide-eyed look. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You seem to be getting along with Aelia. It’s odd. You’re such . . . polar opposites.”
She studies me for a second like she’s trying to decide if I’m complimenting her, then she relaxes a little, more herself again. “The girl is crazy and exasperating. But she’s actually pretty informative.” She considers and then adds, “She’s explained loads more than you have.”
“Is that right?” The spark in her eyes brings a surprised lightness to my chest. “Loads, aye?”
“Don’t be Irish at me.”
I tip my head and give her a taste of the old me. “No choice, macushla.”
A questioning look passes over her features like I’ve affected her in some way with my endearment. She starts picking nervously at the front of her dress. “Sometimes you’re actually a little British, though. Has Marius rubbed off on you?”
“Aye, maybe.” And I can’t help being captivated by the soft skin of her shoulder as she shrugs, by the small creases that form when she crinkles her nose, the shiny coral of her glossed lips, full and lovely—gods, what am I doing?
No. She’s not lovely. She’s average. Simple. Practically human. “Let’s go,” I say quickly and walk away. I have to hope she’ll follow me, because I don’t want to glance back and see the surprise on her face that I know is there.
We arrive at Lunar Hall, in downtown LA, and I’m amazed by how many Otherbloods are crowding around the front, waiting to be let in through the main building into the back courtyard, where the ceremony will take place. It wouldn’t be good for Sage and me to wander around in the pack and get noticed. She’s meant to make an entrance at the right time—it’s what Marius would want. So I lead her through a side door, slipping past the guards.
Once we get through the main lobby and find our way out to the banquet courtyard, I realize how large the crowd really is. This is no small tribunal. Pixies and shades are thick as smoke on the ground floor, gathering in groups by their Houses around the circular courtyard, whispering to each other. And multiple demis from every House are sitting in elaborate seats along the half-moon-shaped balcony. Several would’ve had to come in from overseas. Word must have gotten around that this would be a more high-profile Introduction. Demi Introductions are rare, but none are as rare as a daughter of Brighid. I assumed Marius would keep that off the public radar, but Aelia’s gallivanting all over town likely blew any secrets about our newcomer.
On the half-moon balcony overlooking the torchlit courtyard I see two sons of Lyr and a daughter of Arwen—Queen Beatrix, sneering down at the crowds as always, her hooked nose and crooked teeth worn with pride. I see my father’s eldest, Finbar, the first son of Cernunnos. There are several alfar around him. And the Cast’s envoy, who Marius invited, is standing close. The bald man appears to be intent on speaking to my brother, his thin body stiff, his feminine features pinched. The sight of the important man talking like that with Finbar fills me with unease. Finbar doesn’t need any more power in the demi ranks.
But then I’m distracted, because off to the side I spot Kieran and his sister Princess Mara. My steps slow, and my hand moves to the dagger at my waist before I realize I need to take a breath. I’m too tense. This is not the time or place, even if I do have the urge to stab something.
Mara’s looking at us, her silver-blue gaze sharpening as it falls on Sage. She leans over and whispers in her brother’s ear, her long nails petting the head of a young shade kneeling at her feet. Kieran turns slightly to look. When he spots me, he nods as if we were meeting in a pub.
I don’t bother to nod back. He can go fuck himself with his formality. I’m about to say something to Sage to distract her, so she won’t notice him there watching—I can already feel her nerves prickling my skin—but then ahead of us a shade starts to feed from a cocktail waitress, so I steer her away into the crowd.
“Oh crap,” she whispers, moving closer to me. “Who are all these people? I thought this wasn’t supposed to be a huge deal.”
“Apparently, things changed,” I say, searching the faces for Marius. “Word must’ve gotten out.”
She shakes her head and starts backing up, away from the masses. I take her by the arm and lead her out of the pack, over to the shadows behind the trees that rim the courtyard. “Don’t run off now.”
She tries to yank away from my grip and only succeeds in stumbling into a bush. I pull her back to her feet. “Calm down. You’ll cause a scene.”
“Calm down?” she hisses. “How in the hell can I calm down when I feel like I’m about to walk into a nest of vipers?”
She’s not far off. “You have all the power here, Sage. Don’t let the unknown scare you away from what you deserve by rights.” I notice a few heads turning to watch us, so I take her deeper into the shadows, behind a fountain, where only the sound of splashing water and the flicker of torchlight surround us.
“What do I deserve?” In the moonlight, her eyes are a dark emerald.
“You deserve . . .” I feel my mouth begging to say things I can’t say, things I can’t mean. “You deserve power, the power your mother goddess would wish for you to have.”
“I don’t want any power over other people, Faelan. I just want freedom.” Her hand goes to her mouth, and she chews on a nail for a second. “All my life, I’ve been waiting to be free from people who had control over me. From having to depend on people who always screw me over. And now it’s all tightening around me again. But worse. This . . .” She looks through the shadows to the torches and the hundreds of souls waiting to meet her. “This is so much worse.”
“Then you should take this power, Sage.” I let go of her arm and nod to the courtyard. “Take it from them, and make them give you what you want. Those bastards don’t deserve any of it.” I’m a little shocked by my truthful outburst. I mean every word.
Amazement fills her face too as she looks up at me. The sweet smell of it curls around us—and with the smell comes the memory of her in my arms when she fed from me. She’s so close right now, so warm, and gods, I want to touch her more. Danu help me, I want to touch her cheek, to run my thumb over her brow. Slide it over her coral lips . . .
“I think something’s wrong with me,” she whispers, looking away.
I was just thinking the same thing. “Why?”
“Because I shouldn’t feel this stuff that I’m feeling for . . . certain people.” She puts her fingers to her temple and squeezes her eyes shut. “I’ve got too much twisted shit going on in here.”
“Nothing’s wrong with you, Sage.” It’s me who’s wrong.
“You don’t understand,” she says, sounding sure. She starts to pace back and forth. “I’ve got all these feelings. And I’m not sure how to shake it off or get my head straight now. I nearly died last night and I fed off you and I can’t even wrap my head around it. But now I’m here and I have to go out there and fake it, and since my torque isn’t working right I’m probably going to accidentally melt off someone’s face if they look at me crooked.”
“That’s not how it works.”
She stops pacing and gives me an accusing look. “Aren’t you even curious why my torque isn’t working?” she asks, her voice rising.
I step a little closer to lower the volume. “Look, we’ll bring it to Marius’s attention tomorrow, right? For now we just need to get through tonight.”
“How do I know I’m not going to do something horrible? All that stuff we did today isn’t going to help me stop anything big—I can’t control this.”
Her desperation is palpable. I want to ease her worry, but I’m not sure what to say. It’s not as if this Introduction can be put off now. I’ve never heard of a torque not working before. I just assumed her power was overwhelming it, not that it was faulty. But with what happened in the alley, it’s hard to tell.
“Focus on something calm and soothing,” I say.
She glowers at me. “Seriously? You want me to go to my happy place?”
“Isn’t there anything in all of this that makes you feel good?” I ask.
Her features soften as she studies me, considering my question, then color rises in her cheeks.
“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she mutters, looking away. “I told you, I’m a mess.”
I’m completely lost. “You’re making this impossible to fix, Sage. Just talk to me.”
“I can’t. You of all people I can not talk to about this.”
“That seems ridiculous.”
“Well, that’s me. Ridiculous Sage. She burns down guesthouses and wakes up hot naked men who attack her with birds and apparently kiss Aelia.”
“What the bloody hell are you on about?”
“Who knows.”
I shake my head, exasperated. “You’ve lost me, woman.”
She covers her face with her hands and moans into them. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you loony right along with me.”
I study her, trying to decide how to calm her. She’s been thrown into this, forced to absorb a lot in only days, when most Otherborn have years to get used to our world. She’s handled it amazingly well, considering.
I soften my voice. “It’s all right, Sage.”
She looks up from her hands. “Don’t be nice to me when I’m acting nuts.”
“I promise not to let it become a habit,” I say softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face before I can stop myself. I shouldn’t be touching her.
Her eyes lock on mine and something odd passes between us. There’s a tug at the center of my chest, pulling me toward her.
I keep my feet planted, but as I lower my hand, my fingers brush her shoulder, her soft skin warm against mine.
The torch a few feet away hisses, the flame brightening a little.
“It’s you,” she says, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the fountain.
I frown.
She shifts closer. “You’re the only thing that makes me feel like I might belong here.”
My pulse picks up.
There’s pain reflected in her eyes as she looks up at me. “But you terrify me at the same time,” she whispers. And her hand comes up, resting gently on my chest. It shivers against my sweater, revealing her fear.
A twinge pricks just under her palm, and I know she’s pulling threads of life from me. For some reason, I don’t care. “Why do I terrify you?”
She lowers her arm back to her side and the sensation fades.
“Because,” she says, “that part of me that needs, that wants . . . it wants you.”
She means her hunger. She feels her hunger spark when she’s with me. It must be scaring her. The trouble is, I feel something too. But I have no excuse.
I step back. “It’s all right. After you choose your protector tonight, they’ll help you learn to control your hunger. It won’t feel like this forever.” And as I look at her, my own body reacting, I’m really hoping she’s about to settle on it not being me. This girl could turn out to be the death of my freedom.
She turns away. “Right.”
Pain filters into the air in a soft mist near her shoulders, and an unwelcome spark of guilt hits me.
An idea forms in my mind, and even as I tell myself it’s horrible, I decide I want to try it, anyway. Marius said I should make her feel settled. That I should use whatever means necessary to help her stay connected to us. And the appalling bloody truth is, I want to feel her one more time.
So I step closer, ignoring my quickening pulse. “I can show you. Just once.”
Her wide eyes shine in the moonlight, full of confusion.
“You can control your hunger, Sage.” I let myself reach out again, sliding my palm down her arm, taking her wrist in my hand. “You just have to understand it.” I place her palm on the side of my neck, not letting my eyes leave hers. A gold mist filters from her chest as her fingers slide over my nape, and a sting follows as she begins to pull, already feeding. I can tell she’s not aware of it, though. “You have to listen to the stirring in your belly and make it bend to your will, instead of the other way around. Can you feel it?”
She nods slowly.
“Tell me what it feels like,” I say as the familiar sting grows.
She licks her lips. “Warm and . . . comforting.” Her fingers flex against my neck.
“That’s the pull. What else do you feel?”
“My body is tingling and I smell . . . you.”
“That’s my energy filling your skin.”
“It is?”
“You’re feeding right now.”
Her eyes grow and she tries to jerk away, but I hold her hand to the side of my neck.
“Don’t be afraid,” I say. “Remember how it felt today, your energy in your blood. Just let yourself feel what it’s doing a little at a time. And then push it back down. Like you’re closing a door inside yourself.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says, threads of panic in her voice.
I move closer until our chests are nearly touching and brush my fingers over her cheek. “Close your eyes and let yourself understand it, Sage. You’ll never learn to control it if you don’t try.”
Her eyes flutter shut. The sting becomes an ache in my head and shoulder as her pull deepens, but I stay focused on her, on her chest rising and falling, her teeth tugging on her bottom lip, and I find her breath echoing mine.
“I feel it,” she says, in awe. “I’m pushing it back.”
And sure enough, the pain in my neck and shoulder dissipates, only the heat left behind in my skin. Her eyes open, and a smile lights her face. But as she begins to back away, I have the exact opposite of a sane response.
My body leans in. My lips find hers. And every molecule I’m made of sighs with relief.
She gasps into my mouth, her surprise filtering between us, making me grip her neck and pull her closer. I need her closer. My fingers slip into her hair, and a new surge of energy spreads through my chest. But this time it’s not from her hungry nature. This time it’s mine. As my power surges through me, pushing me, forcing me to want more.
Her body relaxes into mine. My palm skims her bare arm, slides to her shoulder, my thumb playing over her clavicle, her jaw, caressing her neck, deepening our connection. She’s warm, soft, beautiful as she falls into it with me. I can’t help wishing we were anywhere but here as our labored breathing fills the space around us, the kiss stretching out, my pulse thrashing in my chest, the moment ready to drown me.
In the back of my mind I realize there’s no more pull from her, no sense of her feeding from me. And I’m stunned at her control when I have none. She touches my face, her fingertips delicate against my jaw, trembling. I smell her elation. I sense her fear blossom into delicate hope. And it cuts into me, the realization that this is more than a simple kiss to her. This is true affection.
But she can’t feel that for me. Not me.
I jerk away, nearly tipping into the fountain in my urgency to get my hands off her.
She stares at me, her mouth open in shock. “Wow,” she breathes. Her fingers move to her lips. “That was . . .”
“Not smart,” I say, amazed at how calm I sound. My body is pissed that I’m so far away from her. My hands ache.
“Thunder,” she says.
“What?”
She shakes her head slowly. “Nothing.”