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When Rys touches me, I’m immediately hot. Pleasure rolls through me, but it’s not just that. I’m addicted to his touch, and I don’t know if it would be the same with any fae, but the attraction I felt toward him coupled with the way I grew to care for him means that his touch awakens something in me.
Jim’s did once. I won’t deny that. When I was a hormonal teen and he was one of the most popular boys in school, his touch made the butterflies in my belly come to life.
Now, though?
I feel like I’m about to hurl.
That’s how I felt before. I thought—hoped—it was a fluke. That I wasn’t expecting him and the surprise mingled with guilt made me feel that sick.
Nope.
I jerk my arm, shaking him loose. A hurt look flashes across his face and I feel freaking terrible for causing it. But I can’t. I… just can’t. It’s wrong. All of this is, I know it, but the feel of his skin against mine has me feeling queasy.
I put as much space between us as I can. When Jim follows after me—like I expected he would—I hold up my hand, warding him off. “I’m sorry.”
He stops. Concern fills his dark eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Two months, Jim… it’s a long time—”
“I can imagine.”
Can he? “A long time,” I repeat. “And, if I’m being honest, it fucked me up. I’m sorry, but… I can’t handle anyone’s touch right now. Not even yours.” Especially not his. “I’ll try to explain it better later, maybe once you’ve been around a little longer, you’ll see what I mean… but you should get used to not giving up a touch so easily as that. The fae can use glamour. The creatures in this world are experts at tricking humans. You can’t trust anyone here.”
“I can trust you.”
No. He can’t.
When, in spite of everything I just told him, Jim tries to grab my hand, I back away even further. “I’m here with you. I’ve got your back,” I promise him. “But I just… I need a little space. Okay? I never thought I’d see you again, and suddenly you’re here. You’re gonna have to give me a minute.”
“Okay, babe.” I try not to flinch when he calls me that again. Hey. If he wants to call me ‘babe’ instead of ‘Helen’, that’s fine by me. I’ll deal. “You let me know what you need from me. You’re the expert. I’ll listen to you.”
If it wasn’t for the fact that I just… I just know this is the real Jim, I’d almost wonder if this was somebody tricking me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Jim say something like that before. I’ll listen to you… I really, really hope so.
“Just remember what you promised. If you give up your name, one of the faerie folk can make you do anything. If you give them permission to touch you, they own part of your soul. Trust no one.”
“Except you.”
This time, I don’t even bother arguing.
What’s the use?
4
Did I really expect that to work? Asking for space from a man I’ve been dating for the last decade?
I hoped it would but, if I’m being honest, I think the only reason I got Jim to agree in the first place was because he was already kind of worried that something was wrong with me. He didn’t want to push me when I seemed so fragile to begin with. When I left his room, he stayed behind, and I thought, maybe—until I woke up to his knocking on my door the next morning.
And I get it. I do. I’ve had more than two months to accept that this was my new reality now. Jim? It’s been a handful of days at most. He was thrown from the human world right into Faerie, and while he isn’t in fairy jail, he’s basically a prisoner in Rys’s home.
He’s not allowed to go out. Rys made it very clear. With the whispers of a rebellion, the promise of a civil war in Faerie growing stronger every day, he doesn’t want either me or Jim leaving the manor. We’re humans, and we’re targets. We have to stay where we’re protected.
So of course he’s going to want to stick with me. I’m the only familiar thing in this whole unfamiliar place and, well, he still thinks I’m his long-term girlfriend.
I… should probably do something about that.
Just… not yet. Our first conversation has made it easier for me to avoid getting too close to him. We keep our separate rooms—though I can tell Jim doesn’t quite understand why—and I find excuses to return to mine if only to lose myself in my art some more whenever he gets to be too much.
He asks questions. Lots of questions. He wants to know everything about what happened to me since I’ve been in Faerie. I pick and choose, obviously, while telling myself it’s because I want to spare him some of the worst details. It was bad enough when I admitted I spent more than three weeks in fairy jail on a trumped up charge, but when I tried to explain in the most roundabout way ever that I can’t leave Faerie, Jim just couldn’t understand. Finally, I had to blame it on the faerie fruit.
