Shit. It is still an awful one. What the hell am I going to do? More importantly, what the flipcanI do? I’m stuck here in a flipping graveyard. Right now there is sod all that I am capable of. I have a horrible, sinking feeling that I’m completely helpless. I’m just a nisny. And a vessel, and that’s not at all useful when facing necromancers and fey princes. Oh my stars, please don’t tell me that I’m going to have to sit around like a helpless princess and wait to be rescued? Because that really sucks.
But it will work. Tristan will come for me. I know he will. I need to ignore all the dark doubts and insecurities clawing through my mind. I’m a tangled mess of low self-esteem and zero confidence. Like Emo Boy here, there are so many things wrong with me.
However, if I ignore that. If I search deep inside myself, I know the truth.
Tristan will come for me. He will. The truth of it is etched onto my bones. It is carved into my soul.
Tristan loves me. He will not let me go. He is coming. I just have to wait.
Then everything will be wonderful again.
Chapter thirty-eight
Akick to my shins has me jerking awake and bolting up to a sitting position. Memories of being rudely awoken after snatching some sleep in shop doorways are whirling through my mind.
I blink rapidly. I’m in the crypt. It is early in the morning. Emo Boy is handing me a steaming mug of black coffee.
I wrestle my arms out of the blankets and take the coffee. Holy smokes. I ache all over and it is flipping freezing. I have not missed sleeping rough at all. Give me a prince’s bed in a palace any day. I’d suck cock for that, all day long. Even if I didn’t like sucking cock.
Emo Boy pokes the fire and places a pan of bacon on it. My stomach rumbles. At least my captor is feeding me. And giving me caffeine. I take a sip and wince at the bitter taste. Yep, I’m definitely a tea person. Not that I’m going to admit that to Emo Boy. He probably thinks that anyone who doesn’t drink black coffee is a sissy.
“What’s your name?” I ask. Calling him Emo Boy in my head is getting annoying.
“Silas Darkstar,” he says without looking at me.
Wow, I wasn’t sure he was going to answer me, and wow, that’s quite a name. But for once in my life, goodsense prevails and I don’t blurt something aggravating out. See? I’m learning and growing as a person. Tristan has been good for me, it is one of many reasons why I need to get back to him.
I take another careful sip of the scalding hot coffee. “Why do you hate the fey so much?”
All that is within my power to do, is to talk Silas Darkstar around. And the only way to do that is by trying to find out what the hell his problem is.
Silas flips the bacon over. “This world doesn’t belong to them. It belongs to us. The paranormal kin who have always been here. And humans, I suppose.”
Okay, I think I’m beginning to understand. “So you, and other things that go bump in the night, have always been here? You didn’t cross over with the fey?”
“We have always been here,” confirms Silas. “And we will not surrender our world so easily.”
I bite my tongue. The fey are here. They have taken over. Any fight about it has already been lost. Resisting seems pointless to me, but saying that won’t make me very popular.
I sip some more coffee. Damn it, Silas is really fucking adamant about hating the fey. Convincing him that they are not that bad, is going to be impossible. I’m going to have to come up with some other angle to get him to let me go back to Tristan.
Somehow, I doubt that professing my undying love for the fey prince is going to have any effect. Silas does not seem the romantic type. And he’d simply continue to put it down to Stockholm syndrome.
Besides, I don’t love Tristan. I…just like him a lot. An awful lot. Enough to want to spend the rest of mydays as his pet. And he loves me. Who wouldn’t want to stay with someone who loves them? It is all very sensible.
So what if he is outrageously handsome and has stupid flame red hair and an absurd grin? And being fantastic in bed isn’t everything. Okay, I’ll admit that being able to handle me is a special trait, but that’s why I like him and want to stay with him. It is not love. I don’t do love.
Ouch. Something is really digging into my ass and derailing my train of thought. It feels like it has been pressing into me all night. Probably a rock.
I reach down, and around, to dislodge it, when I suddenly realise what it is. My phone. The fancy new iPhone that Tristan gave me and that I soon got bored with because I only had his and Luci’s numbers.
I’ve noticed the servants slipping it into my robes when dressing me, but didn’t think anything of it. I assumed Tristan wanted me to have it on me, or that the servants thought all humans were massively addicted to their phones.
Oh my god. Whatever the reason, my phone is here, in a pocket of my robe. I don’t think it is even switched on, but if I can reach it without Silas noticing, I can try to text my location to Tristan. I have no idea if the fey understand GPS tracking, but turning my phone on can only help, even if I don’t manage to text.
Carefully, I inch my hand towards my ass. I’m still swaddled in blankets, so Silas can’t see a thing. I gulp down some coffee as my fingers touch the phone.
Silas snaps his fingers and holds out his hand. “Hand it over.”
