by Lily Archer
Food coma. That’s what Taylor calls it. I was in a food coma. But when they came in and went at it like ferals, I was wide awake. Wide. So, the good news is, I finally got to see them mating. Meow. Bad news is, now I’m all hot and bothered with no one to bother.
I wink at the nearest winter realm soldier standing guard in the hallway, but he stares straight ahead. “Hey.” I snap my fingers in front of his perfect fae face.
He glances at me. “What do you wish, changeling?”
I give him my best eyelash flutter. “Are you into humans?”
He tries to clear his throat, then chokes, then recovers. “Please, changeling. I’m on duty.”
“When you get off, how about getting off, eh?” I tap his silver armor right over his crotch.
He jerks back. “This is highly inappropriate.”
I frown. “I take that as a no?”
He nods. “A no.”
“Your loss.” I continue down the hall, eyeing each guard to see which one is feeling frisky. They’re all big with dark eyes and ridiculous amounts of self-control. No luck.
My thoughts stray to Gareth. His hard body. That hot scar on his cheek. The way he looks at me when he thinks I’m sleeping. It’s enough to drive a human girl mad. But he’s made clear he doesn’t want me. Maybe it’s time I take the hint. Besides, he’s mated to his job. Always the loyal second-in-command, and boy does he love his rules. I’m certain he has a rule about not penetrating changelings.
I bet that’s the way he says it in his head, too. All surly like “Rule number 3,453: No penetrating changelings under any circumstances.”
I snicker and creep into the gigantic dining hall, the place alive with music, dancing, spirits, and food. It’s a rollicking party full of liquor and lust. If I can’t get laid by someone in here, then I’m utterly failing at life.
I snag a glass of some sort of beer and chug it down as a commotion stirs up to my right, a couple of high fae nobles all over each other, kissing and groping in full view of everyone. Wow, the nobles here are quite different than the ones in the summer realm. Decorum rules there. Here? With the way these two are going at it? This is wild. And I’m loving it so, so much.
“What has gotten into Vinesa?” Another noble, his eyes wide, stands aghast.
“Looks like that fine gentlefae with the dark hair is about to get into her.” I wink at him.
He covers his mouth with one hand. “What in Arin is going on?”
I swipe his unattended wine glass and continue through the dining hall and toward the largest fireplace I’ve ever seen. A band plays to the right, some sort of drumming, fiddling, and luting all colliding to make a lively song for the revelry. So many creatures mingle, talk, and laugh—changelings, high fae, lesser fae, and I spot more than a few shifters prowling around. Maybe Gareth was telling the truth when he said all are free in the winter realm. I stupidly keep my eye out for him, but he’s not in the crowd. Probably sitting in his room writing out his list of rules, or yelling at someone, or glowering at someone else.
The wine is delicious, but quickly gone. So, I swipe another glass and dodge some dancing lesser fae as they swoop past me, twirling and laughing. The winter realm knows how to party. I’ll give them that.
I’m almost to the fireplace when I stop in my tracks, wine running down my chin. Black clothes, leather belt, silver blade with a severely notched hilt—one for each changeling he’s captured—and a rusty red bandana. The Catcher. He’s here. Ancestors help me.
I back away, every hair on my body standing on end.
If I meld into the crowd, he’ll never see me. I can be gone before he has a chance to snatch me.
His shoulders tense, and he cocks his head to the side.
I freeze.
He turns.
I drop my glass of wine.
He catches it before it hits the stone floor.
“Beth, is it?” He grins and hands me the glass.
I put a hand to my heart and try to catch my breath. “Why are you wearing that get-up to a party?” I shout and down the rest of the wine.
“I came straight from my duties.” Phinelas casts a glance to a changeling that sits at one of the long tables, his eyes downcast as he munches on some fruit. He’s dirty and bruised, but he’s alive, likely thanks to Phinelas.
“Setting that one free?” I try to play off my heart attack.
“Of course.” His dark eyes glint as he gives me a once-over. “You’re looking a good bit better than you were when I saw you in the Gray Mountains.”
“If that’s a compliment, I’ll take it.” I return the once-over. Phinelas is a fine fae—tall, dark, lanky. “Hey, you into changelings?”
A grin twists his full lips. “Why? Do you know one who’d be interested in me?”
I step closer and tilt my head back to look up at him with the finest flirt I possess. “Maybe, but she’s not sure just yet.”
“What will it take to convince her?” He moves so close we’re almost touching.
“A demonstration.”
“I think I can arrange that.” His gaze turns heated, but he glances at the new changeling. “Have her meet me in the sitting room near the castle entry in 15 minutes.”
“I’ll see what I can do. She’s a real wild one. Never know what she might do next, so pinning her down won’t be easy.”
He leans toward me, his lips close to my ear. “Tell her pinning her down will be plenty easy for me.”
Sexy fae. I step back as he turns to the changeling boy and offers him a goblet of water and more food.
I hum as I make my way out of the merry hall and wander down the main corridor with another glass of wine in hand. I stop and admire the snowy view a few times, the mountains fading away in the distance as the sun sets on the winter realm.
My pesky thoughts keep returning to Gareth. Where is he? I’ve passed plenty of revelers, but he wasn’t among them. Not that I was looking intently for him or anything. Is he with some pretty fae celebrating the king’s mating ceremony? I push away the sting I feel and remind myself he doesn’t like me. He never has.
“For the longest time, I thought maybe he did like me, but he was just, you know, pushing down his feelings because ‘me winter fae, me big strong male, me have no emotion’ blah blah blah. That kind of thing.” I frown at my wine and finish it off. “But nope, he made it clear once we arrived here that he wants nothing to do with me. He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. He avoided me the entire way back from the Gray Mountains, and he hasn’t made any effort to see me now that we’re somewhere safe.” I swallow hard. Saying it out loud hurts more than I thought, even if I’m only telling it to an empty glass.
Maybe Phinelas is just what I need to shake it off, to forget about broody Gareth. I stumble through a room with beast heads mounted on the high walls. Coming face to face with an ice bear in mid-snarl isn’t enough to kill my buzz, so I pet its head and continue toward what I think is the front of the castle.
Has it been fifteen minutes? He said fifteen minutes, right? I set my glass down on some sort of important-looking paperwork on a desk in the next room. No guards in sight—everyone is at the party—I continue on my trek for male attention. But each step is a bit more halting, because the truth is … I don’t want Phinelas’s attention. Not really.
“Gareth isn’t going to give you what you want.” I lean on the wall inside a room full of ceremonial armor and peer at my warped reflection in a breast plate. “He just isn’t. Better to stop thinking about him.”
Onward I go, my resolve fading, my head spinning. I should go back. Phinelas will be disappointed just like I am, but he’ll live. There are plenty of pretty things at the party. He can take his pick. I glance at my arms, the puncture wounds visible even in the low evening light. I’m not a pretty thing. Maybe I could have been, but Granthos scarred me too badly, too often. Maybe that’s why Gareth isn’t interested. I’m too damaged for him.
My feet continue onward while my mi
nd grapples with warring desires. Foolish. I’ve always been foolish. I rub my temples and enter a dark hallway.
This is a mistake. I just need to go back to my room, wank, and sleep.
A figure emerges ahead of me, the dark clothes and notched blade giving Phinellas away. His Catcher costume is spot-on, creepily so.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” I curse Gareth inwardly for being an invisible cockblock.
Phinellas cants his head to the side and continues approaching.
“I mean, I can. There’s nothing wrong with my goods.” I wave a hand across the front of my body. “But I can’t.” I lean against the wall. “I’m stuck on an ass who isn’t stuck on me. And I’m dumb to keep wanting him, you know? But I can’t help it.” I cover my face with my hands.
He stops in front of me. Maybe he can give me some words of encouragement or something, sort of like a pep-talk fueled by unrequited lust.
“I’m pathetic.” I sigh into my palms. “I know I promised you some fun, but I can’t have fun when I’m all miserable and like, spurned by an asshole fae male person, you know? Have you ever wanted someone you can’t have? I kept thinking he wanted me and he was just pretending to be a total jerk, but turns out I was overconfident—which I’m not really confident, I just sort of fake it, because I can’t admit to myself that I’m scared no one will want me because I’m damaged.” Why are my eyes watering? “Yeesh. That was sort of a deep thought revelation there, right? I’m ‘in my feels’ as Taylor says. It’s the wine. And I did just witness an epic mating. I think I just need to go to bed. Alone. But thanks for listening.” I clear my throat and try to work up the courage to meet his gaze. “You’re a really good listener, you know?”
Metal snaps around my wrists.
“Whoa. What kind of kinky fuckery are you into, Phinel—” I look up at Phinellas but find only cruel silver eyes in a half-hidden face. My breath stops, fear cutting through my drunken stupor.
“Granthos has been looking for you, little runaway.” The Catcher stuffs a gag into my mouth as I open it to yell for help, my bottom lip splitting from his rough treatment.
Hefting me over his shoulder with feline ease, he strides down the hallway and disappears into the freezing black night, my muffled screams ignored by the snow, the rocks, and the Catcher.
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As a special treat, I had the fabulous artist Zakuga create an image of Gareth for you. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
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About the Author
Lily Archer believes in fairies, mermaids, and fierce fae warriors. Armed with nothing more than her imagination and a well-worn MacBook, she intends to slay the darkest beasts of the fantasy worlds and create true love where none seemed possible.
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