“We need to stop them,” I said.
“Ivy and Ren will stop them.” Tink leaned against the doorframe. “That’s their job.”
An uncomfortable rush of heat rose to my skin as I looked back at Tink. “It’s my job, too. I am a member of the Order, despite the fact that everyone keeps forgetting about that.”
Tink’s pale blue eyes widened. “I know you are. I didn’t mean it wasn’t your duty. You’re—”
“It’s okay,” I cut him off, knowing that whatever compliments he gave me about my battle prowess wouldn’t be words he believed. Over Tink’s shoulder, I saw Dixon stick his furry ass in the air, shaking it for a second before attacking my pillow, sinking his claws and teeth deep as he rolled.
I’d gone through so many pillows because of that cat.
I sighed, turning back to the mirror to get back to work finishing the rest of my makeup. In other words, I made myself look like a walking and breathing Snapchat filter.
It wasn’t just makeup I was putting on. I was reshaping the angles of my cheeks and brow with shading and highlighting, skills I had picked up from a YouTuber who was probably all of thirteen years old. I was drawing in fuller, pouty lips with a liner, and creating the illusion of wider eyes by using thick eyeliner and deepening the lower eyelid with foundation and shadow. Combined with my newly contoured face and the long, curly, black hair courtesy of a wig, no one would recognize me as Brighton Jussier.
Except him.
He would know it was me.
I closed my eyes as a pang lit up my chest. Damn it. I was not going to think of Ca—of the King. Nope. Not at all.
After swiping on a layer of mascara, I shoved the wand back into the tube. Finished, I stepped back and got a full look at myself.
The thigh-length, super-tight, black dress and red lips combo could be summed up in one word. Vampy.
Dressing this way wasn’t exactly normal for me. I was a sweats and a T-shirt type of girl, but no one in this world or the Otherworld was more distracted by tits and ass than the fae, male or female.
Brushing past Tink, I went back into my closet that used to be a small nursery.
Tink followed. “The black knee-highs would complete your I-charge-a-lot-for-sex look.”
“Perfect.” I snatched them up.
He watched me shove my feet into the footwear. “Why don’t we have an Avengers marathon tonight?”
Right boot halfway zipped up, I stopped and looked up at him. “We have watched every one of those movies five times, even Captain America. I don’t think I can sit through another Captain America.”
“The movie is a little boring, but Chris Evans’ fine ass makes up for it.”
I tugged up the zipper and moved to the other side. “True, but not today. It’s Saturday. Fabian is back. Aren’t you going to spend time with him?”
“He can come over,” Tink suggested, clapping his hands excitedly. “You know I’m leaving soon. I’m going to be out of town for, like, forever. We should spend time together.”
Tink was finally going with Fabian to Florida, where a large populace of Summer fae lived. For the last two years, the Prince had been trying to get Tink to visit, but he wouldn’t. The brownie claimed it was because he wasn’t ready to make that kind of commitment, but I thought it had more to do with the fact that Tink didn’t go out much. He’d gone with Ivy to California once, but other than a trip to Hotel Good Fae—the compound where the Summer fae lived—he stayed home. I imagined the human world was a bit overwhelming to him.
“You’re not going to be gone forever,” I pointed out, admitting to myself that I was going to miss him and Dixon since he was taking the cat with him. “You’re only going down there for a few months.”
“That is forever. Come on, it will be the best threesome ever.”
Straightening, I arched a brow.
“Chris Evans. Popcorn. Face masks. That kind of threesome.”
“Uh-huh.” I reached into the cubby hole, grabbing what looked like simple bracelet cuffs. In reality, they hid iron blades sharp enough to pierce fae skin and cut an Ancient’s head off. “You can still have that threesome without me.” I snapped the cuffs into place. “I’ll be home late.”
Tink turned. “The King doesn’t want you out there.”
I stopped, and it took me a moment to face him. “That’s why you’ve gone from wanting me to take you with me, to asking that I don’t go out.”
He lifted a shoulder.
Taking a step toward him, I reminded myself that I liked Tink and stabbing him wouldn’t be cool. “Have you been telling him I’ve been hunting?”
The brownie’s face went impressively blank. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Tink.” I met his stare and held it.
He threw up his hands, startling Dixon enough that the cat released my pillow. “I didn’t tell him anything, but just so you know, if he demands it, I have to. He’s my King.”
“Really?” I replied dryly.
“Yeah. Sort of. But, seriously, he hasn’t asked me if you’ve gone out, but he has told me that he doesn’t want you out there. It’s not safe. He thinks—”
“I know what he thinks.” I’d seen the King since he told me that there was nothing between us, which had come right after I admitted to myself that I was developing serious feelings for him—had already fallen for him, actually. Things weren’t exactly amicable between us. I was confident that if Tanner, the fae who oversaw Hotel Good Fae, heard me call his King an asshole one more time, he was going to ban me from the hotel. My jaw tightened. “He’s told me every time he’s seen me that I have no business hunting fae. That it’s the Order’s job. I guess, like everyone else, he’s forgotten that I work for them, too.”
Which was why I kept calling him an asshole to his face. It wasn’t because he didn’t want me, even though he’d led me to believe that he did. It wasn’t because he made me think I was special and beautiful and interesting without the makeup, the fake hair, and the skimpy clothes. He was a different kind of asshole for those reasons. In a way, his dickish attempts to control me—which had failed—made it easier to deal with what had happened. The deep hurt had quickly given way to anger. And cursing someone out was far better than lying awake at night, crying as I ate yet another cupcake.
“He hasn’t forgotten.” Tink’s voice was soft. “I don’t think you understand why he’s done what he’s done.”
Oh, I thought I understood perfectly. I was nothing to him, and whatever we did have had just been a mistake in his eyes. After all, he was not only a fae, he was the King, and I was just…Brighton, a thirty-year-old who had helped his brother once when injured. The King claimed that wasn’t the reason he’d healed me after the attack, but I believed differently. He felt like he owed me.
“I don’t care enough to understand his motivations,” I said. “I know why he doesn’t want me out there.”
The King didn’t want me to stand down just because it wasn’t safe. And while I at least hoped he didn’t want to see me dead, I didn’t think he was losing any sleep over the possibility.
No, the real reason was that the King was also looking for Aric. Back in the Otherworld, the Ancient had been one of his Knights. Aric had betrayed him to Queen Morgana, stabbing him through the chest and weakening him so that he was susceptible to the batshit crazy Queen and her magic. So, yeah, he had valid reasons for going after him.
But so did I.
If the King found Aric first, he’d kill him, and I would never get the chance to carry out my vengeance against the creature responsible for killing my mom. And, well, that was…that was all I had.
* * * *
The rapid thump of music from the overhead speakers matched my mood as I swayed in the shadows of Flux’s dance floor, a club that catered to the fae. This was where I’d found and killed Tobias, one of the fae who’d joined Aric in the attack against my mother and me.
I wasn’t worried about being recognized
in the mass of twisting human flesh that churned alongside and against the fae in the place. Most of those that frequented Flux were of the Winter Court—the bad Court that actively hunted humans to feed on so the fae did not age. The very same Court that belonged to Queen Morgana. Every so often a Summer fae was spotted, but those sightings were few and far between.
I saw no fae at all tonight.
Questing hands slipped from my waist and slid down to my hips again. Frustration made me grab What’s His Name’s wrists harder than I intended. I’d honestly rather be scrubbing my lady bits with a brillo pad than dancing with an obvious first-timer to New Orleans, one who wore so much cologne, he could star in an Axe body spray commercial. However, lurking alone in a club like this was suspicious. Not when everyone came here to hook up.
“Damn, girl, you got a hell of a grip on you,” he murmured into my ear. “That’s hot.”
I rolled my eyes as I placed his hands back on my waist.
“So, you come here a lot?” He squeezed my hipbones.
“No,” I said, focusing on the dance floor near the stairs that led to the private second level, where the fae normally chilled in-between glamouring humans and feeding on them.
“Then I guess it’s my lucky night, isn’t it?”
I opened my mouth to tell him to not only talk less but also wear less cologne, when I felt a tight shiver of awareness. The kind of feeling you got when it felt as if someone were—
The man behind me shouted in surprise. His hands left my hips as I spun around. The dark-haired tourist stumbled, catching his balance on a nearby table. He shoved off it, puffing out his chest, but drew up short a second before broad shoulders and a tapered waist clad in a black shirt blocked my view. The guy’s blond hair was secured in a short ponytail, and the scent of summer rain replaced the overpowering musk of cologne.
I sucked in a sharp breath of disbelief as I saw What’s His Name dart to my left, intelligently wanting nothing to do with what stood in front of me.
I could not believe it.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I waited. I didn’t have to wait long. He decided to grace me with a full-frontal of what had to be—unfortunately—the most beautiful male face I’d ever seen.
The King was here.
Chapter 2
The sense of deja vu was too strong to ignore. It felt like an eternity ago that I’d come face to face with him inside this very club, and the last time we’d met in here, I’d tried to spin-kick him.
I had a feeling that history might repeat itself.
Cad—the King, I corrected myself. The King was stunning. Cheekbones as sharp as a blade, nose straight and aristocratic, and a jaw that could’ve been carved out of marble. He had the kind of face you found yourself staring at and wondering how it could be real. And now, those full, expressive lips were tilted in a smirk.
Seeing him so unexpectedly seemed to short-circuit my brain because I wasn’t thinking about how he’d hurt me. All I could think about was how good he’d made me feel. Not in the physical sense, though that had been amazing too, even though we hadn’t had sex. But it was the important stuff. I…I missed that.
“You can do better than that, sunshine,” the King of the Summer Court drawled.
My stupid, stupid heart skipped a beat at the nickname. He’d told me that he called me that because I reminded him of the sun.
Such BS.
Pulling the anger around me like a favorite sweater, I walled up my heart, protecting it from its own stupidity. I lifted my gaze, ignoring how the amber color of the King’s eyes both frightened and tantalized me. “Don’t call me that.”
“Whatever you wish.” He stepped forward, and my eyes narrowed. “I’m sure you can imagine my utter lack of surprise at discovering you here.”
“And I’m sure you can imagine my utter lack of surprise realizing that you’re stalking me again.”
He arched a brow. “Well, who else is there to keep you from getting yourself killed?”
My jaw ached from how hard I clenched it. “I don’t need anyone to do that other than myself. And I especially do not need you.”
“That’s your opinion,” he stated as if it were the stupidest belief in history. “I know why you’re here. You’ve learned that Neal was seen.”
No point in lying. “And if you’re here now, there’s no way he’s going to show up.”
The King’s smile was real, stealing a little of my next breath. “Exactly.”
My hands curled into fists as the realization that tonight had been an utter waste slammed into me. The only thing I got out of it was being groped. If the King was here, Neal would be nowhere near.
“You’re a jerk,” I spat, spinning around and stalking off.
I didn’t look back to see if he followed as I cut around the dance floor and made my way toward the exit.
I hadn’t seen the King the entire week and a half I’d been out here looking for Neal or Aric—or any fae who may know where they were. A few times, I’d felt the creepy sensation of being watched, but if that had been him, he’d never revealed himself. Until now.
Shaking my head, I slammed my hands on the door and stepped out into the cool evening air, letting it wash over my sticky skin. Goosebumps rose, but I didn’t care. In a few weeks, it would be as humid and horrible as Satan’s balls.
Part of me wasn’t surprised that the King had found me so easily in the club. Like I’d admitted while I was getting ready, he always knew it was me, no matter how drastically I altered my appearance.
How bizarre was that?
And I also wasn’t surprised when I heard his voice behind me. “You should be home.”
“You should mind your own business.” A horn blew from somewhere along the packed Warehouse District streets. Ever since developers had decided to reclaim a lot of the empty industrial buildings and turn them into expensive apartment complexes, clubs, and bars, the traffic was getting as bad as it was over in the Quarter. I shot him a glare over my shoulder. “And you better not be talking to Tink about me. That’s not cool.”
“I’m not,” he answered, and then his brow creased. “But he did tell me about something to do with tuna and a possible food illness.”
My mouth gaped. “Tink told you about that?”
The King nodded.
I was going to kill that damn brownie with my bare hands. I picked up my pace.
The King easily caught up to me, walking on the side of the traffic. “What you’re doing is my business. You’re my business.”
I shot him a look. “Yeah, no, I’m not.”
“You’re out here hunting a fae—”
“That you want to kill yourself. Cool story.” I stopped at the street sign, tugging down the hem of my skirt. Power walking in spandex was not advised.
“That’s not why. It’s not safe.”
“I can defend myself.” The moment the little green man appeared on the light, I hurried across the street, toes cramped in the narrow boots.
The King was right beside me, his long-legged pace easily matching mine. “I do not doubt that.”
“You don’t?” I forced out another laugh.
“No, I don’t, but this is different. You’re looking for a Knight. A skilled warrior who has killed indiscriminately in the past. If you thought the Order had a right to fear me when I was under the control of the Queen, they should be even more worried about him.”
That made me stumble. When the King had been under the spell of Queen Morgana, he’d been a psychotic killing machine. But I already knew that Aric was just as bad. I had the scars all over me to prove it.
But in reality, I knew very little about the Ancient. There was nothing in my mother’s journals or on file with the Order. I’d checked. And it wasn’t like the King and I had been on speaking terms beyond trading death glares.
I stopped, ignoring the muttered curses of the guy behind me. “Tell me about him. I want to know everything.”
The King looked aw
ay, jaw tight. “He was my Knight, and he betrayed me, stabbing me through the chest while I fought.”
“I know that. Tell me what he’s like. What makes him tick. What—?”
“Why? Why do you think this information is important? So you can build a profile on him?” Fiery amber eyes met mine. “Nothing I tell you will help you fight him and survive. You,” he said, stepping into me, “you are just…”
“What?” I challenged. “I’m just a human?”
“You’re just Brighton,” he said. “You cannot defeat him.”
Just Brighton? What the hell was that supposed to mean? I didn’t think I wanted to know. “Look, I don’t care what you think. I’m going to find Aric, one way or another. You can’t stop me, and frankly, I’m done talking to you. Goodnight.”
I started walking again, getting halfway down the street before I realized that I was going in the wrong direction.
Damn it.
Not like I was going to turn around now. No way. Nothing screamed “skilled badass” like going in the wrong direction in the damn city you had grown up in.
“What’s your plan, sunshine? Find Neal? Then what?” He caught my arm, stopping me at the mouth of a dimly lit alley. “How do you plan to make him talk? To bring you to Aric? You plan to use your feminine wiles?”
“Feminine wiles? Buddy, it’s not the fifteenth century any longer.” I tugged on my arm, but he held on. “And I plan to use an iron blade in his throat. That’s how.”
“Really?” The King’s grip was hard, but his palm felt like fire on my skin. “Neal may not be much of a fighter, but he is still an Ancient, capable of throwing you across the street without even touching you.”
The King: A Wicked Novella Page 2
