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The slipper tells me otherwise.
He’s responsible for it. I know he is. I might have been able to shut him in there, but I lost my slipper in the process. It flew off my foot, landing inside the mausoleum a split second before the stone door echoed its slam. I eventually jammed the spare slipper in my hoodie pocket and, as I throw myself back, hiding in the deepest, darkest shadows as my head goes in a hundred different directions at once, I can feel the weight of the slipper’s twin against my queasy belly.
The sliver of sunlight is the only illumination in the whole sewer. It’s weak, barely enough to let me see more than a foot in front of me, but I don’t need that to be sure that Rys is hiding somewhere.
I don’t see him. The slipper is here, but he isn’t. At least, not where I can find him.
I’m too tired for this crap. Tired and, well, I’m just plain over it.
“Where are you?” I call out.
“Wherever you want me to be.”
I jump. My back scrapes against the rocky wall, something cold and wet dripping against my neck as I hit it. I spit out a curse, my hand flying up to wipe the slick of moisture from my skin at the same time as I climb forward on my knees.
Where is he? Where—
There.
Tall, slender, lithe body. Bronze-colored skin, long tawny hair, and a pair of golden eyes that shine like a pair of miniature suns in his shockingly angelic face.
To my surprise, he’s looking down at me with an indulgent expression. I’d been expecting fury. I still remember his howl of outrage as I shoved him inside the mausoleum and closed him inside. If I ever saw Rys again, I thought he’d want to throttle me for what I did.
From the heated look he’s giving me, I can tell that he’s got all kinds of plans for the two of us—and throttling me ain’t one of them.
He tsks, then grins. “Oh, Riley. Do take care of yourself.”
I glare over at him. It’s hard, since he’s so bright and the sewer is so dark, and I ca
n barely make out the self-satisfied smile tugging on his pouty lips, but I refuse to let him think I’m happy to see him.
“How did you do that?” I demand.
“Do what, my love?”
The denial is immediate. “I’m not your love.”
“Mmm. Yet, perhaps.” His golden eyes glow so vividly, I have to squint to keep from being further blinded myself. “What did you mean by that anyway? Do what?”
I wave my hands, gesturing at the space in front of him before shielding my gaze again. “You weren’t here. You weren’t. And then, all of a sudden, you were right next to me. How the hell did you do that?”
“I could tell you, even teach you the same skill, but…”
“Yeah?”
Rys shrugs. “It would cost you.”
It would. And I can’t afford his price. “No, thanks.”
“A trade, then?” His voice gentles, like it’s an off-handed suggestion. His expression gives him away, though. At this moment, I could ask for anything and he would give it to me. That kind of power is heady, even if I don’t want anything to do with the Light Fae. “I know I’ll have to earn another touch. I understand the game. But what about a barter?”
That’s probably worse. A fae can’t lie, I know that much, but the Faerie races are so tricky, he could be telling me the absolute truth—and still be manipulating me.
Like now. Even though I like to think I know better, I can’t stop myself from saying, “I don’t have anything you want. And a touch is off the table. No way am I letting you get any closer to me.”
“Fair enough. As for your end, why don’t you let me decide whether you have something that suits me. So, is it a deal? Do we have an agreement?”
He’s gotta be kidding, right? “No.”
