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“Summer fae are the most delicious.”
“Mmhm.” I move toward the tailor shop. “I heard a scream from the house at the end of the street. Check it out. Bring me the notturno who doesn’t know how to hunt.”
“Yes, General.”
The entrance to the already-broken-into shop opens without resistance, and the jingling bell at the top of the door draws my attention. I rip it off and examine it. Animals in pastures would have these bells. Why is there a bell on the door?
Puzzled, I pocket it and take down the manikin in the window. It’s been dressed in thick white riding pants, leather riding boots, a tight black shirt with a high neckline, and a leather jacket decorated with artfully designed silver embroidery. Pinned on top of the manikin’s lifeless face is a long black hat. I strip off the clothes, then dress quickly and gaze in the mirror.
Dirt from the dungeon mars my cheek. I rub it off with my thumb, which leaves me thinking the Summer princess saw it. Slightly annoyed, I wipe my thumb off and slide on the hat, arranging it lower, over my red eyes. The princess excites me.
“Are you the maker of this fine suit?” I ask the owner of the heartbeat I hear behind the partition at the end of the room. He won’t answer me. He’s been hiding, steadying his heartbeats so most notturnos won’t hear him. “It’s rather admirable how you can control your heart in such a way when faced with the threat of death.”
When the male won’t answer—I can tell by the scent in the room that the heartbeat belongs to a male fairy—Ivelosito the partition and peel it open to reveal a kitchenette. The heartbeat grows louder in my ears. It’s coming from inside the cupboard under the sink. I crouch and open the cupboard.
Inside is a fae child. A boy with dirt on his face and warm brown eyes that squint as they see me. The stench of fresh urine makes my nose wrinkle. There’s another boy next to him, even younger, who’s starting to cry, but quietly, silent tears running down his cheeks. By the looks of them, I can tell they’re brothers. I recall my own brother with fondness and embrace the pain of his absence before closing the cupboard and exiting the shop.
I’ll find a tailor elsewhere. Perhaps steal him from the Summer Court when I visit the princess. And I’m definitely visiting her again. One must eat, after all.
11
NOTTUZA
Over the course of seven spans, the males from the dungeons have filled out, most of their flesh regrown on their bones. Ledger and Leroy have even regained their skin. Yet, for some odd reason, the right side of Ledger’s face is lagging behind in the recovery process. I’ve offered him my blood to see if we can restore his appearance before we leave for the Winter Court.
Sharing blood with him has left me weaker than expected, and since I seem to have developed a taste for the Summer princess, the blood of others pales in comparison. In fact, tasting other blood is like eating from a bucket of leftovers saved for pigs. I can’t even swallow it down. Which leaves me with no choice but to feed from her.
Her scent in the room is stronger after she bathes at night than when she bathes early in the morning. I inhale a lungful of her scent now, which conjures up images of nights spent rolling in the sand with her, her laughter making me think I have a beating heart, her hooded blue eyes making me feel like I’m the only one for her.
Her magic calls me even in her sleep. A restless, deceptively submissive call, promising to make all my fantasies come true. Because I’m hungry, or simply because I conjure excuses when it comes to her, I leave the safety of the shadows in the corner of the room and approach her bed.
The cooler weather in the northern parts of the Summer Court means the rooms are heated this time of turn. She sleeps under a thick comforter, with her right foot sticking out over the mattress.
She sleeps this way every night.
On her belly, with this foot out. It’s a lovely part of her body. Petite, with cute toes, the nails of which she paints black, and an anklet that connects with a tiny chain to the rings around three of her toes. All gold jewelry. All carefully placed to accentuate the beauty of her foot.
I run a claw over the arch of her sole.
Her toes wiggle.
I grip her ankle, her magic flaring against my palm. My fangs lengthen and throb against my gums, and I marvel at how someone so petite can hold such powerful magic inside her. Then I remember that she can’t. Not quite. The way her magic zaps my palm, then starts crawling over my arm like a thousand firebugs gives me an erection.
Goose bumps rise over her smooth skin, and I chuckle, then cover her foot with the comforter. From my pocket, I take out a toy soldier and place it next to the two other soldiers on her nightstand.
Fleur is a smart female. She doesn’t wonder who they’re from. She knows who visits her at night, leaving soldiers on her nightstand. And I figure when she’s ready for me to visit her bed, she’ll invite me to touch parts of her that will give her more than just goose bumps.
Until then, I’ll only feed.
On my pretty prey, who is most beautiful when she sleeps, when unaware I’m watching, patiently waiting for her to stay up late one night and spend the night with me. Eventually, she’ll grow more curious.
Eventually, I’ll grow accustomed to the draw of her magic, so much so it won’t pose a threat to my self-control.
For now, I feed on the delicious blood that’s unforgettable and unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. So addictive that it’s a painful craving in my belly when I’m away. A dangerous sign that her blood is the only thing that can sate my hunger, her magic already holding power over me.
Nobody can know I crave her blood.
I ought to fuck her out of my system.
