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This new tech slowly pulls her hand back. Her lips quirk into some semblance of a professional smile—designed to soothe me, though hell if that’s gonna work right now—but it’s not enough to hide the worry in her hazel eyes.
She’s too new to Black Pine. She doesn’t know me, though I’d bet a stack of Oreos that she’s heard all about me.
That worry? It’s because she has no clue what I’m about to do. With my reputation, she’s got a pretty good reason to worry.
Today, I’m good. Nothing out of the ordinary. I do what I always do.
I sit on my hands.
One of the other girls snickers. Whitney? Wouldn’t doubt it. A high-pitched voice fills the sudden quiet next. Zehn. Neun. Acht. Sieben… Someone’s counting backward from ten in German. That would be Allison. When she’s uncomfortable, she slips into German.
It could be worse. It could be French. Allison likes to speak French when she finds something funny.
I’m so not laughing.
Dean gets up. My vision is hazy, my heart thump-thump-thumping away in my chest, but I make out the big guy as he gets back to his feet and lumbers away from the couch. He squeezes himself between Martin and Casey on the other sofa.
I make sure to dodge just enough to avoid his knee bumping into my shoulder before focusing on the tech. She seems to have gotten closer to me in the last few seconds.
I don’t like it.
“Riley,” she says softly. So she does know who I am. I figured. “Listen to me. I’m sure you know that the rule’s only to make sure that you guys don’t touch each other. I have to touch you if I’m going to help you off the floor.”
She’s telling the truth. I can tell.
It doesn’t matter.
“No touching,” I insist.
Okay. So maybe I sound like I’m panicking a little. I am panicking.
No touching. It’s the only rule I live by. I learned early on that bad things happen to me whenever I let someone touch me without my permission. And I’m not talking about people messing with my personal space or groping me without my consent.
I’m talking about control.
If you let one of the fae touch you, they can make you do things you never would—and you can’t stop them. And the worst part is that it’s almost impossible to tell if someone is human or not. The monsters have the power to make themselves look like anyone they want, wearing a glamour that hides who they truly are.
The fae are tricky like that. They treat humans like toys, playing with us, twisting the truth, crossing all boundaries to get permission for a touch that steals half of who you are.
Six years ago, I was blamed for the fire that killed my sister. I didn’t set it—I know I didn’t—but that didn’t mean a damn thing when I finally broke down and admitted the truth about the fae. That they’ve followed me all my life, waiting for me to trip and offer them my hand.
Just like this tech wants me to do right now.
I made that mistake once. The golden-haired, golden-eyed fae male who convinced me that I could trust him minutes before he started the fire. Even though I knew better—I’d been coached, I’d been taught, I’d been trained better—he came so close to stealing more than a touch.
At the last second, I found the courage to tell him no, that I wouldn’t follow him wherever he led. He punished me for my refusal. Me and Madelaine. I said no, she didn’t, and the world as I knew it went up in flames.
My doctors spent years convincing me that the fae don’t exist. Logically, I know they can’t. Mythical, ethereal creatures from another world who are interested in me, a twenty-year-old orphan in the middle of nowhere? Logically, I know I created my imaginary friend, the fantastical world of Faerie, and a set of intricate rules to follow as a way to work through the abandonment issues I’ve dealt with since my mom disappeared when I was a baby.
The meds are supposed to help. The sessions with my therapists, my case manager, the doctors… they’re supposed to help. They usually do. I can go months without feeling like I’m being watched, or worrying that the golden-eyed fae male will find me again.
And then someone tries to touch me and it all comes crashing down.
I’m not crazy. I’m not broken. I just believe in beautiful monsters who are willing to do anything they can to get their hands on me—even burn down a house with me and my sister inside of it.
The tech reaches for me.
Hell no.
