Anna said it with such confidence that a tendril of amusement sprouted, then blossomed with the brightest shade of temptation. She flipped through a few more pages, ignoring him, butDavid leaned closer and lowered his voice, sugaring it with the right amount of bait. “Pick up that book right there.” He pointed to a specific volume he’d planned to ask her about.
She pulled it from the pile, then blinked, a crease forming in her brow like she wasn’t sure why she’d done it.
“Turn to page forty-three.”
Blue eyes met his, suspicious, as she obeyed without argument.
He smiled. “Now read paragraph two aloud.”
A fire lit inside her as she tried to fight it, but she was powerless against his magic. Her unwilling mouth opened, and she recited, “The pixies are a race interconnected via a neural network in the surface of their skin. This silent communication, called the Pixie Effect, is revered among the pixies as vital to their culture. The effect is propagated by receptors that activate at the physical touch of other pixies. Each individual responds to the network of another in differing ways, from small vibrations at the touch of strangers to orgasmic electrical currents between lovers. Due to this, bonded pairs are resistant to separation, and it is deeply frowned upon to mate outside the network. As such, the Pixie Effect has created an insular culture, difficult to penetrate by outsiders who cannot communicate their intentions and goodwill by touch alone.”
A riveting phenomenon, truly, and clearly the reason for the oft-repeated phrasePixies stay with pixies, but David’s first thought upon learning about the Pixie Effect was of Sean.
Sean was a pixie, same as Lhynion. Would Sean, like Lhynion, forsake this apparently revered cultural experience for Isobel? What made her worth such sacrifices?
But Anna couldn’t know the answer to that question, so he had to ask something else. Something that would make her squirm to prove his point—that he never, in fact, had any need to use violence to win a fight.
His head quirked, and he injected more of the sugar straight to the marrow of his voice. “Have you ever experienced the Pixie Effect, Anna?”
“Yes,” she said, monotone, glaring at him.
“Tell me, was it the orgasmic electrical currents you experienced?”
The blue of her eyes darkened, and she spoke the next words through her teeth. “No. We don’t get those unless we’re in love. I’ve never been in love.”
“But you’ve had lovers,” he said. “Good ones, I’m sure.”
A pretty wave of pink blossomed in her cheeks.
He’d read the entire passage, so he already knew her answer. Pixies were practically asexual until affection blossomed, and often not until they’d fallen in love did they truly experience desire—as evidenced by the pixie bond. True monogamists.
If she’d never been in love, she’d likely never even experienced lust, much less taken a lover.
But David let his mouth form its practiced smile and pressed the magic deep into her psyche, wondering whether her own power—the magic she refused to admit to—would surface. “Come on, Anna. Tell me.”
Her voice emerged desperate. Loud. Tainted with magic. “Stop it.”
It rushed through his brain in a ripple of pleasure akin to cocaine, overcoming his will. It gagged his mouth, stopped his questions.
Sothiswas what coercion felt like.
Anna’s power was weak, and it faded fast. He definitely could have trounced it if he’d wanted to, but instead, he remained quiet, watching her eyes widen.
A powerful thrill spread—one he was now certain she could sense. It radiated with a single sensation.
Vindication.
His intuition had not been wrong. The magic in her voice was a mirror of his own. Anna Ainslan had Morgan’s magic.
She scooted her chair back from the table but didn’t rise. A panel of afternoon light from the window sparked the starling iridescence in her ebony hair.
“I—don’t know what just happened,” she said.
He quelled the smile that always haunted him in her presence. “I think you do.”
“It—It doesn’t mean?—”
“Yes, it does. You’ve been keeping secrets.”
