“No,” I snap.
Her eyes widen. “Oh.”
“I need to see him. Now.”
“I’m sorry, that’s not possible.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t have time for this. You seem like a lovely person, and I bet he’s not paying you enough to deal with people like me, so I’m sorry for what I’m about to do.” Before she can open her mouth, I sprint toward the elevator. Jamming the button as if my life depends on it, I look over my shoulder in time to see her lift the phone to call security.
Once inside, I press the button for the penthouse and blow out a breath. I lean back against the wall and watch the numbers tick by as the elevator ascends. About halfway up, it stops, and the door opens.
“You came back?” The woman Tristan made disappear—Skylar—steps into the elevator and presses the button for another floor. Today her knee-high dress is bright red, matching the stain on her lips.
I open my mouth to answer as I survey her from head to toe. She’s very much not dead. A dead body couldn’t pull off heels like that. “I had to,” I whisper.
Her laugh is a tinkling sound, like raindrops on a window. “What for? To make sure it was real?”
I shake my head. “To make sure he doesn’t hurt my best friend.” Even though she tried to make a meal out of me, she was scared, cornered. Maybe she hadn’t fed in a long time. There are so many possibilities. She wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.
Skylar flicks her tongue over her lower lip. “Ah, you figured out who he was looking for.”
My jaw clenches. “He sent me to look for her.”
“And you found her. Obviously.”
I nod.
“She’s your best friend, huh?” Her lips curl. “You didn’t know your best friend was fae?” she taunts.
I hold back a scowl. “I didn’t know the fae existed until a few days ago, so no, I didn’t know my best friend was one. How many of you are there?”
Skylar shrugs, and even that looks graceful. “Close to ten percent of the population. Ever since our world was destroyed, we’ve been here.” The elevator stops, and Skylar steps toward the door as it opens. “Coming back here was stupid. He let you go once. I don’t see him doing it again.”
I stuff my trembling hands into my pockets. “She’s my best friend.”
Skylar sighs, as if my decision to put myself in danger irritates her. “Humans,” she mutters before the door shuts, and I’m alone.
I tap my hands against my thighs, thinking over what Skylar said about their world being destroyed. Now I understand Tristan’s less than pleasant response when it came up the day we met.
My heart hammers in my chest, and my nerves sing with coiled energy as the elevator reaches the penthouse level. I’m ready for a fight if it means getting Allison back. I step off the elevator and through the small foyer to his door and bang my fist against it several times. As I’m getting ready to kick the damn thing in, it opens to reveal an annoyed looking Tristan.
My eyes widen a fraction as I take in Tristan’s casual attire. In a meeting, my ass. “Where the hell is she?” I growl, pushing my way inside.
He glances between the empty hallway and where I’m standing inside his suite. “Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?” He offers an amused expression and then closes the door as if he’s confronted by angry business majors every day.
“Cut the bullshit. Where is Allison?”
“You mean the young woman who almost killed you?”
My eyes narrow. “She didn’t almost kill me. She stopped.” I cross my arms over my chest and refuse to back down.
“Thanks to me.”
I let out a shaky breath and rake my fingers through my hair. “She stopped,” I repeat to myself. “Now tell me where she is.”
“She’s here. Awaiting my orders.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I bark.
Tristan pushes away from the door and closes the distance between us in a few strides. “Fae laws are much like your own. Actions have consequences, and Allison must accept the punishment for her misconduct.”
“What misconduct?”
He says nothing.
“What did she do?” I say louder. His silence makes it apparent that he isn’t going to tell me why she’s being kept here or what she did. I lift my gaze until our eyes meet. There’s a moment of silence before I say, “please don’t hurt her.”
“I’ll treat the situation as I see fit.” His voice is firm and unforgiving.
“What—?”
“It’s time for you to leave.” Tristan dismisses me with a wave of his hand.
“You think I’m going to leave without Allison? You lost our deal. I found her first.”
“Then you lost her when she almost killed you.” Tristan glances toward the door as Max walks into the suite. My entire body stiffens as his eyes focus on me. A potent mixture of fear and disgust go to war inside of me.
“Back for more fun, blondie?” he taunts. “Let me show you to my room. I promise I’ll be gentle.”
I recoil, revulsion twisting my expression.
“Miss Marshall was on her way out,” Tristan interrupts smoothly.
“You’re letting the human go? Again?” Max questions. “She could open her mouth and put us all in danger. Wipe her memory. We’ve got the girl we were after.”
I look between them and take a couple of steps back, my heart rate kicking up as they turn to watch me.
“I’m handling it,” Tristan says in a firm tone, flicking his eyes over to me. Evidently he isn’t going to tell Max he tried and couldn’t wipe my memories.
“Fine,” Max mutters, his teeth flashing in a snarl when he glances at me.
“Obviously I can’t tell people the truth, so what do you want me to say? You don’t think people will wonder where Allison is? She has friends and a boyfriend. People will question her whereabouts.”
Tristan sighs. “She will return to her life soon enough.”
I try not to let my relief show on my face. At least he said he’ll let her go. “When is ‘soon enough’? After you’re done with her? Because she answers to you?” I say in a tight voice.
“Yes. Just as you do. That’s how this works.”
“I do not answer to you,” I snap.
Max whistles and leans against the wall.
Tristan appears in front of me faster than my eyes can register the movement. “I saved your life. Twice.”
“My life was in danger twice because of you!” I wait for him to respond with some high-handed remark, but he stands there with a stoic expression. I notice Max leaving the room out of the corner of my eye before my gaze focuses on the fae in front of me.
“How unusual,” he says thoughtfully, licking his bottom lip.
“What?”
“You’re so responsive. It’s refreshing. Most people I encounter have a healthy fear of me or a high level of respect. It’s clear you have neither.”
I stifle my laugh and arch a brow instead. “You want me to fear you? Too bad. I don’t. As for the respect? That’s earned. You don’t magically get it because you’re some supernatural leader.”
“How do you think I became a leader?” he challenges.
“I’m guessing some seriously dodgy politics.”
His laugh is a deep, rich sound that makes him seem dangerously human.
“I’m not going to stand here and pretend I understand anything about your world, Tristan, but I will say this: Allison is twenty years old. Fae or not, she’s young. Whatever she did, allow her a chance to make up for it, and she will.”
He regards me with an odd, almost confused look. “I don’t understand.”
I nod. “That’s two of us.”
“You’re so protective of someone who—”
“Could have killed me. I get it. But she didn’t, and she’s my best friend. I’d do anything for her. She’s probably scared out of her damn mind right now. All I’m asking is that you consider that when you deal with her.”
>
He tips his head back slightly. “What makes you think that matters to me?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“I don’t care that she’s your friend, nor do I care how she feels. Our deal has reached its completion. You’re free to leave. Unless you’d like to take me up on that dinner I proposed? It’s not quite dinnertime, but I’d be willing to dine early this evening.”
My jaw clenches, and I fight the urge to punch him, knowing it won’t do any good. “You’re a real ass.”
“I believe you established that already,” he says without interest.
“Thought I’d repeat it,” I mutter.
He chuckles. “Anything else I can do for you, Aurora?”
I scowl. “So, I’m assuming you wiped Oliver’s memory, and that’s why he doesn’t think he went out last night.”
“He was a loose end.” He shrugs. “I could’ve killed him instead.” He lowers his face, and his eyes meet mine. “You’re welcome.”
“So you made him forget last night altogether?”
“Precisely.” He smirks. “You look nervous, Aurora.”
I stand straighter. I keep a neutral face as my heart pounds crazily; I’m sure he can hear it. My confidence might be a false bravado, but I’m holding on to it with everything I have.
“I’m not nervous,” I snap.
“Keep fighting it. It makes for wonderful entertainment,” Tristan quips. “So, dinner?”
“Are you kidding?”
He regards me with an amused expression. “You’re not hungry?”
“I’m not having dinner with you, Tristan.”
“Perhaps another time.”
I smile sweetly. “Yeah, perhaps not.” With that, I head for the door. Nothing about this situation is ideal, especially my lack of control. Allison means the world to me, but it’s clear there’s nothing I can do right now. I need another plan.
When I get back to campus, I spend an hour moving from one spot to another—from my bed to my desk chair and then to Allison’s bed and back to mine. Not knowing what she’s going through at the hands of Tristan Westbrook is making it impossible to sit still. My hair is a tangled mess from swiping my fingers through it so many times, so I pull it back into a bun. Every time I try to think of a plan to get Allison back, the rational part of my brain shoots the idea down, knowing it won’t work. The fae are too new to me. I don’t have a chance at besting them. Not yet.
I make the mistake of searching fae lore online. After combing through so many different legends, I doubt any of them will do me much good. One piece of information I read multiple times is one that Tristan confirmed himself: iron is poisonous to fae. I tuck that away for future reference because if I’m going to fight Tristan again, I want to be prepared. Nothing else I come across gives me a better idea of what I’m up against. I also make several notes on things to look through the next time I have an opportunity to go home. Family photo albums, heirlooms, anything that has a chance of tying any of my ancestors to the fae.
There’s a light knock at the door before it opens, and Oliver walks in. I shut my laptop, and my heart sinks. What am I supposed to tell him? He can’t know the truth. It’s too dangerous.
“Hey.” He walks over to Allison’s bed and drops onto it.
I smile, glancing over at him. “What’s up?”
“I’m looking for Allison.” He scans the room. “I tried calling her. I thought she’d be here.”
I swallow the lump in my throat before I say, “I’m not sure where she is.”
“Hmm, okay.” He shoots me a goofy grin. I want to scream at him for dropping it so easily, but it’s not his fault. “Want to grab some dinner?” he asks.
I catch my lower lip between my teeth and nod. I haven’t eaten since, well, I can’t remember, and despite the worry that swirls in my chest, I’m hungry. The constant upset in my stomach is only made worse by its emptiness. I need a break from all of the crazy. At least for a little while. “Let’s go.”
We walk to Taylor’s Brew and are seated at a booth near the back. I’ve been here a handful of times with friends, but Allison never wants to come, saying they’re too overpriced. While the prices are a little high, their deep-fried pickles are the best I’ve ever had. The amazing food makes up for the lack of interior decorating. Nothing hangs on the wood-paneled walls, and the bar stools and booths look as if they haven’t been reupholstered in years. There’s a stage at the front of the room where people perform on occasion. I play piano and have been writing my own songs for years, but I have yet to make it up there.
Turning my attention back to our booth, Oliver pores over the menu, and I bite my tongue several times to keep from saying something that won’t make any sense to him.
“Aurora?”
Oliver glances up, and I turn my head when I hear my name. Grant stands a few feet away with a couple of other guys.
“Hey,” I say with a polite grin before turning to Oliver. “This is Grant. He’s in my elective class. Grant, this is Oliver.” Grant’s friends wave and head over to the bar.
When he sticks his hand out, Oliver leans over and shakes it. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Oliver says.
Grant’s gaze swings back to me. “Have you started that research paper?”
I laugh. “Not even a little bit.” I’ve been a bit preoccupied.
He chuckles. “Sounds about right.” He looks over at the bar. “I should get over there, but it was nice to meet you, Oliver. And don’t worry about the bill. It’s on me.”
“No way, I’m not letting you buy our food,” I say.
He shrugs. “I own the place, Aurora. It’s no big deal.”
“Are you kidding? That’s crazy.”
“It was passed through the family, and now it’s my turn.”
“We’re not going to argue over free food,” Oliver chimes in.
He grins. “I’ll see you guys around,” he says before rejoining his friends.
Oliver and I order our food and talk about school. For the most part, I offer one-word answers and struggle to keep up. My thoughts keep going back to Allison and what’s happening at the Westbrook Hotel. I’ve decided to give it three days. If she’s not back by then, I’m going to strap iron stakes to every inconspicuous part of my body, and I’m going to charge that fucking building. I have to. Even though I still don’t understand why she lost her shit and attacked me, I have no doubt that Allison would do the same for me.
It’s been two days, and Allison isn’t back. To say I’m a mess is an understatement.
I leave class an hour before the lecture ends and sit in my room, where I go over what I know about the situation. I’ve made several lists, all of which would make any outsider think I’m a lunatic. I fist my hair, groaning as I shuffle over to my bed and flop onto it.
“You okay there?”
I sit up in a flash, barely escaping a wicked case of whiplash, and see Allison standing in the open doorway. She looks fine, not a hair out of place, no wrinkles in her clothes. Her face is free of makeup, which is unusual for her, but aside from that, she looks normal. “Are you really here?” I ask.
It takes her a moment to smile. “Yeah, I’m here.”
I launch myself off the bed and throw my arms around her.
She pulls back and stares at me for a moment and then hugs me back, tighter. “I’m so sorry,” she murmurs. “I never meant to hurt you. I was so scared. I don’t know what came over me. I’m never like that. I shouldn’t have left you, especially after everything you went through.”
“It’s okay,” I say, rubbing her back. “You’re not going to disappear on me again, are you? What the hell was that?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promises with a small laugh. “The disappearing is a fae thing. Shifting, we call it. Like teleportation, but calling it that makes it sound weird to me.”
“That’s because it is weird. Whatever, I’m just glad you’re here. Are you okay?�
�� I pull away enough to look at her. “What happened? What did he do? Did he hurt you? I swear to—”
“Hold on,” she cuts in. “Slow down and breathe, Aurora. I’m okay.”
My eyes narrow as I look her over again. She appears to be unharmed, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t hurt. “What happened?”
“Nothing that you’re thinking. He didn’t hurt me, I swear.”
The tension in my muscles doesn’t relax any. “I came looking for you, but he wouldn’t let me see you.”
“You went back there?” she asks. “Are you insane? You could’ve been hurt.”
“It was you, Al. I had to do something. But now, everything is going to be fine.”
“How can you say that?” She sniffles. “With the news about your fae lineage, he isn’t going to let this mistake go, which means he isn’t finished with you.”
The panic that’s been living at the surface rears its unforgiving head.
He isn’t finished with you.
Life settles into a comfortable routine over the following days, and I’m able to focus on my studies. It’s almost as if I were never kidnapped, never told my family could be fae, never introduced to the insufferable Tristan Westbrook.
The morning of my work placement interview, I open my eyes to bright sunlight streaming in through my window. I roll over and reach for my phone. I’m still shocked that Tristan returned it, given he did kidnap me, but I’m in no place to question his kindness.
I squint at the backlight of the screen and my heart races when I read the time.
It’s almost eight thirty.
I throw myself out of bed and into the bathroom to put myself together as fast as I can. Once my hair looks decent, twisted into a quick French braid, I apply a few swipes of light makeup so I look alive. I get dressed in a formal black jumpsuit and shrug on a matching blazer. Grabbing my bag off the dresser, I shove my portfolio inside before I pull on my heels and rush out the door.
I spend the entire cab ride to the conference center tapping my hands on my knees and chewing my lower lip. My stomach is swirling with nerves, and my pulse is so erratic I’m sweating. I can’t remember ever being this anxious about something. If I’d had time for breakfast, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to stomach anything.
Twisted Fate Page 5
