Winter

Despite my relaxed state, I shudder. “Do his parents know?”

I’ve never met his mom, or even seen her for that matter. But his dad and this other, this changeling, are together all the time.

“No,” Callum answers for Mack. His big head rests in his hand, and his face looks crestfallen as he discusses his parents. “My dad made a deal with the Winter Court when I was seven, and then he couldn’t pay. So they took me, put a changeling in my place, and glamoured my dad to forget he ever owed the Evermore. Since then, I’ve been a servant for the Winterspell family.”

Winterspell . . . that’s Inara’s surname.

My head spins. “So . . . the Cal I went to high school with, the all-American boy who could be the poster child for rednecks everywhere, is a secret Fae? Why?”

“We don’t know,” Mack says. “There are changelings all over the mortal world, but who knows why they do it?”

“Are there other changeling humans at Evermore Academy?” I ask, trying not to sound too hopeful. If there are others here who haven’t been groomed from practically birth for the academy, then maybe I won’t stick out so much.

“No,” Callum says, shaking his head. “I’m only here because I tricked Inara’s uncle into wagering a spot here for me during a game of farvane.”

Farvane is a dice game played by some of the Evermore students in the commons. The rules seem incredibly complicated, and some magic is involved.

Mack grins. “It hasn’t exactly made him popular with Inara.”

I sigh. “She has a new person to hate, so you’re probably safe now. You’re welcome.”

Callum suddenly looks around. “Wait, why are we sitting on the floor?”

Mack giggles. “Actually, why are we inside this room? Let’s go show those Fae pricks how dancing is supposed to look.”

Dancing? I have as much rhythm as a praying mantis, but the others leave before I can protest. So I blow out a breath and follow them down to the dance floor. The floor is packed with bodies, all Fae.

There are so many horns and wings and tails and flashing lights that I can almost convince myself we’re at a Halloween party back home. Except the creatures writhing on the dance floor won’t peel off their costumes at the end of the night.

And to them, we’re the freaks.

The thought of being the only humans here isn’t comforting, but Mack, Callum, and Evelyn don’t seem to mind as they immediately begin grinding on each other.

Ick.

I’m about to join them when a surge of Fae bodies surrounds them and they’re swallowed by the crowd.

Just like that, I’m alone. A fruitless search ensues where I bump into every Fae possible, gathering annoyed scowls and more than a few offers to dance. But I’m not a fan of the hungry way the male Fae look at me like I’m something to be conquered and devoured.

Especially after we just had the reasons-not-to-sleep-with-the-Fae talk.

Plus, I need at least five more of those pink drinks before I can find a shred of rhythm, so I push and shove my way to the bar. The bartender belongs to the Court of Mortal Beasts. Black eyes stare at me from a bloodless face, and when he smiles, two long fangs flash.

Vampire. I shiver. Members of the Mortal Beasts look like mortals, for the most part. With a few major differences. Vampires drink blood and don’t sleep, Lycanthropes shift into werewolves, and shifters, well, shift into animals.

The vampire lifts his overly-plucked brows, which also happen to be studded with piercings. “Going to order anything, little shadow, or are you just here to offer that delicious blood I smell charging through your fragile veins?”

Shit. Panicked at the mention of him drinking my blood, I say, “I’ll have . . . the pink drink.”

His grin is terrifying. “Coming right up.”

When he hands me the champagne flute full of sparkling liquid, it looks way different than the other fizzy drinks from before. It’s not even pink, but a rich, sparkly purple.

Before I can ask exactly what this is, he asks for payment.

“Excuse me?” I say stupidly. Of course money is a thing here in Everwilde. It’s a thing everywhere.

He’s about to reply when his eyes shift behind me. A whisper of terror flickers across his countenance, and then he hisses, “The drink is free,” before escaping to a back room.

Before I turn, I know from the prickling cold feeling raking my back who’s behind me. When I turn, I’m prepared to see the Winter Prince.

But I’m not prepared to see the three Fae girls from the Court of Mythological Creatures surrounding him. They have snowy-white wings and pale horns. Two hang on his arms. A third leans in and tips a glass of something to his lips.

Because he can’t just hold his own damn drink.

Even with his mini flying harem attending to his thirst—and other things, by the look of it—his eyes never leave mine. I happen to have the misfortune of noticing how gorgeous he is, how big and full and kissable his stupid lips are.

But how can I find him attractive after he tricked me? After he humiliated Rhaegar and claimed me like a car won in some poker game.

I’m not a car. I’m not a possession. And I will never let him own me.

As if he knows my thoughts, those lips slowly tug into a saccharine grin, and a pit of desire opens up inside me.

What the Fae?

I rip my gaze from his stupid, pretty face and grab my drink, toasting an imaginary glass. “Here’s to being the worst shadow in history.”

I slam back the sparkling concoction before I can change my mind.

The second it hits my throat, I know I’ve made a huge mistake. Of the I’m-screwed kind.

A wave of pleasure flashes over me, so overwhelming that I nearly fall off my barstool. At the same time, a pulse of fire ignites between my legs, a puff of air escaping my lips. I tamp down a moan as liquid fire smolders across my flesh. When I glance down over my skin I see that it’s all dewy and glowing.

Across the dance floor, I catch sight of Bane, Inara, Kimber, and the whole homicidal crew laughing hysterically as they point at me and whisper. One of them holds up a cellphone to video the scene.

Shit. My body is on fire. I need to dance, to grind up against someone. To do more . . . so much more with someone. A male.

What the hell was in that drink?

34

Gripping the bar with sweaty fingers, I turn toward the dance floor. . . only to see I’m fenced in by a wall of male Fae. My body rejoices but my mind is freaked. A blue-skinned Fae with long, twisty horns grins at me. Another male slides into the barstool next to mine, his yellow eyes flashing. Lycan.

His fingers are like iron bars as they wrap around my wrist, hard enough to make me wince. With minimal effort, he tugs me into his lap. My heart spikes into my throat.

“What’s your name?” he growls.

Part of me wants to throw my arms around his neck and then go somewhere dark, private. Ew. Gritting my teeth, I jump from his grasp before his arms can slide around my waist.

I’m not in control and the thought is terrifying.

Relief cuts through my panic as I spy Mack and Callum rushing toward us. Callum pushes through my muscled-up admirers, making a path for Mack.

She glares at the Fae males. “Get back, idiots!”

None of them move. An orc and a Fae male with feathery wings get too close to one another and a fight breaks out. Someone grabs my hand and tries to pull me into the fray, and it takes all my strength to fight out of their grip. I can’t breathe. Too many people. I’m closed in, trapped.

They’re going to rip me apart.

Sweat dampens my temples. One of the males leans in and . . . what the Fae? He sniffs me, inhaling my sweaty scent like an alcoholic guzzling mouthwash.

This is getting so out of hand.

Mack’s eyes are wide as she touches my face with the back of her hand, then her dark brows bunch together and her mouth pinches. “What did you take?”

Afraid if I speak a weird giggle will come out instead of words, I point at Inara and her friends. They burst into another round of laughter.

“Was the drink purple and glittery?”

I nod.

“Oh no.” The panic in her voice makes me nervous. “We need to get you out of here, fast. That was a pheromone shot. Something about mortals makes it a hundred times more potent. Right now, you’re irresistible to every Fae male in this place. Callum, start making us a path!”

Callum smashes his body into a tall vampire. As soon as the vampire goes flying, I dart through the space and run. Hands grab my flesh. I cry out as panic worms deep into my bones. Someone knocks into me. Then a Fae grabs me by the waist and another by the legs and they start to drag me off.

All at once, an ear-splitting roar rumbles the room. The hands around my body disappear, and I’m dumped onto the ground, landing hard on my shoulder.

Someone lifts me into their arms. I stiffen, prepared to fight.

“Don’t move,” a voice growls.

The Winter Prince glares down at me with wild, animalistic eyes.

“Be very, very still.”

Before I can so much as protest, he flicks his fingers. I tear my gaze from his face to the portal opening in front of us.

Without a word, he slips through, closes it, and then dumps me onto my feet as if my flesh burns his. My boots crunch snow. Trees rise around us, the glowing disc of the moon visible through their canopy of branches.

My body sags as I make out the wrought iron fence surrounding my mortal dorm.

After the noise of the club, the sudden silence feels . . . strange.

“How could you be so rash?”

The anger in his voice relights my own fury, and I round on him, fists clenched. “Rash? I was trying to finally have fun in this horrible, godforsaken, freezing place.”

He flicks up an ink-blue eyebrow. “You call that fun?”

“I didn’t know what was in that drink.”

His mouth twists into dark grin. “Just assume everything in Everwilde can and will kill you, or worse.”

“Charming,” I seethe. “So glad someone had the forethought to bring me here against my will.”