Forcing myself to take a break from everything fae-related and get back to focusing on school, I text Grant to meet up to get our presentation done. I was lucky to get another elective class with him this semester after working together during our last class turned out to be mutually beneficial.
He sends me the address for his apartment a few blocks away from campus, and I head over there mid-afternoon.
“It’s open,” he hollers from inside after I knock, so I turn the knob and let myself in.
“Hey,” I say as I walk into the kitchen where I find him chopping vegetables at the island counter. “You’re cooking.” I glance around at the clean, white cabinets and cupboards that line two of the walls, forming an L shape with gorgeous gray marble countertops. He has all stainless steel appliances, including a fridge with an ice dispenser like the one I’ve always wanted. I never pegged Grant as someone who had a fancy-ass kitchen, but this thing looks like it should be featured in a home and style magazine.
He tosses me a lopsided grin when I look at him. “I am cooking. I thought we could eat and then work. Food is always better than homework.”
I lean against the counter and watch him chop a few more pieces off a carrot. “You don’t have to convince me. I’ll do anything to avoid this presentation at this point. Can I help with anything?” I ask, glancing at the garlic bread on the counter.
He wipes his hands on his pants. “Uh, sure. Want to slice some tomatoes?”
“I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.” My tone is light with sarcasm.
He laughs. “Perfect.” He walks around the counter and hands me a knife, setting me up with a couple of tomatoes and a cutting board.
I slice into one of them, Grant watching beside me, his shoulder brushing mine, as if he’s worried I’ll screw it up. The idea brings a smile to my lips . . . until my head starts spinning. Squeezing my eyes shut at the familiar sensation, I drop the knife and grab the counter.
“Easy there,” he murmurs, his hand flat against the small of my back.
“W-what . . . ?”
“You’re okay,” he insists as his eyes meet mine. “I want you to sit down.” His hand drops away from my back, and he returns to his place on the other side of the counter.
I stare at him without moving.
He peers over at me and frowns. “Interesting.”
Wait a minute.
My eyes go wide. “You just tried to . . .” My mouth goes dry, and my ears ring. “Oh my god.” My fingers grip the countertop until my knuckles go white.
“Would you look at that. You finally figured it out.” He pops a piece of carrot into his mouth. “All those months of slowly feeding off of you so you wouldn’t notice.” He claps his hands together, and I flinch at the loud sound echoing around the room. “Phew, I’m glad I don’t have to hide it anymore.”
He’s been feeding off of me? In class? My stomach churns, and my throat burns with bile.
“You son of a bitch,” I growl.
“Uh-uh,” he purrs. “Be nice now, or I’ll be forced to respond unpleasantly.”
My eyes flick around the room. “Let me go,” I demand in a tight voice.
He smiles without looking at me. “Why would I do that? You’re what I need to win this war.”
My jaw clenches so tight my teeth ache.
“Jules.” His real name comes out as a growl. I spent so much time thinking Dr. Collins was somehow involved, I didn’t even consider that Jules wasn’t a female, or that he was Grant. I was so focused on it being Richelle Collins because of her involvement with Adam. How she always made me feel like something was off about her, and her disappearing when he died. I blinded myself to the real light leader who was using me the whole time.
His eyes flick up and meet mine. “Well done. That’s one point for you.”
No points for me. I was so wrong.
I scowl. “What the hell do you need me for?”
He frowns. “Isn’t it obvious?” He walks back around to stand at my side.
I try to lean away, but he grabs my arm and forces me to stand before him. I swing my fist toward his disgustingly attractive face. “Why are you doing this?” I demand after he catches my fist before it connects. I pull my hand back, growling at the tingling sensation left behind, and try to shove him away.
Quick as a snake, he wraps his arm around my shoulders and holds me against him, his grip too tight to break no matter how hard I struggle. He smoothes a hand over my hair, and a sickening drowsiness trickles in. I should be fighting him off, but standing seems like too difficult a task. My eyelids flutter, and I lean into him to stay upright. “That’s it,” he croons. “Close your eyes.”
Once awake, I blink several times before my vision clears and I can focus on the ceiling I’m staring at. I turn my head so I can look around the room. It’s simple, fair in size, set up with a dresser, closet, desk, and bed. The bed that I’m lying on. I bolt upright. Where am I?
Before I can panic, the door opens and Grant—Jules—walks in, carrying a tray of breakfast food.
“You’re awake,” he says in a pleasant voice and sets the tray down on the table beside me.
I try to scramble off the bed but my legs get tangled in the sheets, and I almost fall off the edge. I catch myself on the mattress at the last second, managing to get the sheets away from me, and slide off, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
My lip curls. “You don’t give a shit about me.”
He frowns and walks around the bed toward me.
I jump onto the bed to get across to the other side, away from him, but he catches my leg and pulls me back, maneuvering himself on top of me, and pins my arms to the mattress above my head.
“Get off of me,” I scream, tears pricking my eyes as I buck my hips to get him off the bed. I grunt, digging my nails into his hands, and he bares his teeth at me.
“Scream away. No one can hear you.” He grins, and I think I’m going to be sick.
I lift my knee and catch him in the stomach as hard as I can. He grunts but doesn’t move, so I do it again and again. He lets go of one of my hands to try to cage my leg, so I use that opportunity to lash out, dragging my nails across his cheek.
He hisses and rolls off of me, standing beside the bed. “You should eat something,” he says in a tight voice.
There’s no way I can stomach a glass of water, let alone a plate of eggs and pancakes. With a snarl, I kick the tray off the table, sending it to the floor in a pile of food and shattered glass. My temples throb with an impending headache. “Why are you doing this?” He didn’t answer me the last time I asked.
He exhales through his nose. “Because, sweet Aurora, you’re the way to Tristan’s heart. And to destroy him, I’m going to destroy you.”
My eyes widen. “I thought you were my friend,” I snap. “What’s your plan? You think you can just keep me here?” I clench my hands into fists so I’m not tempted to scratch my nails down his face again—though I’d like nothing better. Right now I need information.
“Help me destroy Tristan Westbrook so I can become the only leader of the fae, and you can go back to your mundane life and do whatever you want. You can live the life you’ve planned. All you have to do is say yes.”
I stare at his shoulder because I can’t force myself to look at his face. That’s his angle. Tristan was right. He wants to rule the fae—all of them. Maybe if I play along, I can figure a way out of this. Jules is crazy if he thinks I’ll help him. He couldn’t offer me anything significant enough to have me agree.
“Take some time and think about it. Consider what this could mean for you, Aurora. You could have your old life back, just like that.”
“Fine,” I say, and that one word feels like I’ve already lost.
Jules narrows his eyes as if he might not believe me, but then he says, “You’re making the right choice, Aurora.”
I wait until he’s far enough away before I press my face into the pillow and sob.
It’s dark outside the window when I open my eyes. I use the bathroom, and while I’m washing my hands, I catch my reflection in the mirror. What am I doing? I need to find a way out of here before Jules has the chance to force me into doing something that will hurt Tristan.
When I leave the bathroom, I find Evan standing in the other room. The bedroom door is open.
My eyes narrow on him. “Are you involved with this?”
He hesitates. “In a way, yes.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand.
“Jules asked me to see if you’d like dinner now.”
I stare at him. “You knew,” I say, tasting the venom in my words. “You knew he was going to do this to me.”
“Listen, Aurora—”
“Shut up,” I growl. “You don’t get to speak.” I squeeze my hands into fists at my sides, inching toward him. “Does Allison know what’s going on right now?”
Evan shakes his head. “I do care about her. While things may not have started that way, I came to care for her. You have to believe—”
“You knew that I knew Jules, but that I didn’t know what he was,” I accuse.
He nods.
That’s when I snap. I launch forward and slam my fist into his face. He stumbles back, and I follow, swinging at his face again and again, almost surprised that I’m getting some decent hits in. Either he’s letting me, or he isn’t as coordinated and fast as most fae. Blood sprays from his nose and drips from a cut on his lip, but watching them heal as fae magic works through him makes my rage burn hotter. I hit him harder, faster, over and over until someone grabs me around the waist and pulls me away.
“Aurora.” Jules’s voice doesn’t help the part of me that wants to murder Evan with my bare hands.
“I’ll kill you,” I hiss at Evan, trying to break free of Jules’s hold. “I swear to god, I will end you.”
Jules pulls me back and turns me to face him, grasping my chin with his free hand.
I try to break his grip. “Get the fuck away from me.”
“Stop fighting me,” he orders.
I swallow hard and stop struggling. It’s not doing any good, anyway. “You sick son of a bitch,” I growl. “He deserved that.” My heart pounds from the adrenaline rush, making my hands shake as they grip the front of Jules’s shirt. My knuckles are bloody and already bruising—I didn’t notice until now.
Jules holds his hand over them until the cuts seal and the bruises fade. He sighs heavily. “Come on. Let’s have some dinner. I did cook after all.”
Evan grumbles, getting up from the floor, and walks out of the room without a word.
Jules and I sit across from each other in a small, modern dining room. He brings out two plates with chicken breast, broccoli, and roasted potatoes. He pours me a glass of white wine and one for himself before he looks at me. “Eat,” he instructs.
I narrow my eyes at him but pick up my fork and knife. I slice into the chicken, watching the serrated metal cut into the meat. I wonder how fast I could—
“I wouldn’t,” Jules says in a casual tone, lifting a piece of chicken to his mouth. My eyes snap to his, and he smirks. “Your rigid posture and permanent scowl are fairly telling, Aurora.”
Glaring at him, I drop the utensils and cross my arms. “You can’t blame me for thinking about it.”
He tilts his head, chewing and swallowing before he says, “I don’t. However, I know how it would end if you attempted it, and I’d rather not see that come to fruition.”
“How kind of you.”
“There’s no reason for you to get hurt, Aurora. It wasn’t your fault you became a part of this world. The way I see it, once we deal with Tristan, you can go back to your life, and you’ll be happy. I’m giving you an out that benefits me as well.”
“You’re forcing me to take it,” I correct in a sharp tone.
He sets his fork down and takes a sip of his wine. “It’s for your own good. You’ll see that eventually.”
“You know, I’m not sure that I will,” I say. “You don’t need me for what you’re planning. You overestimate Tristan’s feelings for me.” I know how Tristan feels about me, enough to know Jules’s plan to use me against him could work. The thought makes my chest ache. For all those weeks I dreaded seeing Tristan, he’s the only person I want to see right now.
Get it together, blondie. Why Max’s snippy voice is what booms in my head, I’m not sure, but I latch onto it. Regardless of what the voice sounds like, it’s right. I need to get through this myself.
He laughs. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen the way he is with you. That’s never happened before in all the years I’ve known him. Humans don’t do it for him, but you do.”
I push away from the table and stand. “I’m done talking about this. You started this war when you let your people kill the dark fae. You want to destroy Tristan and rule the entire fae race? You’re on your own. Good fucking luck.” I storm toward the door with no idea where I plan on going, but I have to get out of this room, away from him.
I’m about a foot away from the door when he grabs my wrist and spins me around. “Stop,” he says.
“Go to hell,” I snap.
His lips curl into a twisted grin. “Your fear and anger are intoxicating,” he murmurs. “Such strong, genuine emotions.”
My heart races at the intention behind his words. “It’s called being human. You’ve tried it, remember?”
“That’s right.” He blinks, and I stagger back, free of his hold. “It’s a shame that didn’t work out, but college can be so dull.”
My forehead creases. “So then you know what it’s like to spend time with you.” Ah, there’s the inappropriately timed witty comment. Well done, Aurora.
He sucks in a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “Maybe you need more time to think about my offer.” His eyes flash with an unprecedented anger, and I barely catch sight of his fist before the sickening sight of him goes black.
I blink a few times, my head already pounding, and my ears ringing. I spit out a mouthful of blood before I gag on it and groan.
“You hit her?” Evan says, but his voice sounds far away.
Jules grumbles. “Put her back in the other room. I’ve got shit to deal with.”
I watch his shoes as he walks out, and I barely see Evan approach before my eyes shut on their own.
When I pry open my eyes this time, I recognize the room around me. I’m in Tristan’s bedroom. I struggle to keep my eyes open long enough to see him sitting on the end of the bed and watching me with an angry, dark expression. His hair is a mess. It looks like he hasn’t brushed it in days.
“What . . . ?” I stop. My head is spinning so fast I have to squeeze my eyes shut, or I’m going to throw up.
Tristan shifts closer and lays his hand across my forehead. The dizziness recedes enough for me to open my eyes again and look at him. He brushes the hair away from my face and assesses my appearance.
“Am I dreaming? How did I get here?” I ask, trying to figure it out in my head. There’s a chunk of time missing, but I can’t fill in the blanks.
His jaw clenches, and I wish I hadn’t asked. “You don’t remember?” he murmurs, his eyes on me. “This isn’t a dream, Rory. Evan brought you back to us a few hours ago.”
I shake my head, confused and unsure whether I’m able to speak anymore.
“You know Grant Taylor, yes?” he checks, his voice clipped.
My throat goes dry, and I force another nod. “Is he okay?” I ask in a small voice. Grant and I aren’t all that close, but since I met him in class last semester, he’s been a good friend.
His eyes darken. “I imagine you didn’t know that he’s fae. Or that Grant isn’t his real name. It’s Jules.”
My eyes widen, and no words come out when I open my mouth.
“I didn’t think so,” he says. “It would seem that he has been—” Tristan stops, clenching his fists in his lap. It’s like the night I was poisoned all over again. I can feel the anger rumbling through him like dark, violent waves, and I immediately want to make it stop.
My hand is shaking, but I reach over and place it over his fist. “Tristan,” I whisper.
He sighs heavily and looks at me. “The bastard has been feeding off of you.”
I play that sentence over in my head, and then I lean over the side of the bed and hurl.
When my stomach calms down, housekeeping comes to clean up the mess, and Tristan and I sit in his living room. The fireplace casts dim light on the room, reflecting off the prints of the hotel on his walls.
“This whole time . . .” I trail off. “I’ve been friends with him since before I met you. I’ve spent time with him all semester, and I didn’t know he was the leader of the light fae, that he was your enemy.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, putting his arm around my shoulders.
I lean against him and try to take a few deep breaths. “I think it’s coming back, Tris,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut as images of me attacking Evan and memories of Jules feeding of off me play over in my head like a twisted movie.
“Shh,” he soothes. “Listen to me, sweetheart. Listen to my voice. You’re okay. Keep breathing.” He runs his hand up and down my arm, trying to help me through the montage from hell.
The pictures stop, and all I want to do is kill Jules for what he did to me. Some things are still blurry, like how I got here. I remember being in the back of a car and someone carrying me into the back entrance of the hotel. I don’t understand why Evan brought me back.
“It’s all right, Rory,” Tristan says, grazing my cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re safe now. We’ll figure this out, and then I’ll deal with that bastard. You need to rest and recharge.” He lifts my chin until our eyes meet. “I gave you my blood so that you’d be up to par faster, but you should eat something.”
My stomach churns, and bile rises in my throat at the idea of trying to put food in my body. “I’m not sure I can.”
“You can,” he insists. “You’ll get through it, I promise you.”
I don’t say anything else, but after a moment, I nod.
I find it difficult to remember what my life was like before the fae. When I think about Jules’s offer to give me that life back, I know I could never take it. I can’t give this life up. I can’t give Tristan up. I won’t.
All I can do is hope he feels the same about me.