A fae lounged against the table. Dusky blue skin, dark hair falling loose past his shoulders. A scar cut through his lip, and his scaled leather armor looked pieced together from many kills. His red eyes fixed on me, glowing beneath thick lashes like embers in shadow. He grinned, and a fang caught the light.
My pulse stuttered.
Dreadfae.
20
THE ROGUE
I stiffened. “Who are you?”
“Uther, love. Just Uther.” His soft voice was edged with enough gravel to be threatening. “And you are?”
I kept my mouth shut.
His brow arched. “It’s rude not to reciprocate.”
“Guess I’m rude.”
He chuckled, stepping closer.
Panic rose in my throat. The stories had always said Dreadfae were predators—creatures born in shadow. They didn’t just kill. They drank their victims’ blood. Usually lured them with illusion runes carved into their eyelids and tongues. Runes that bound people to their will. A tiny flicker of pressure tightened under my ribs. I shifted my weight, ignoring it.
“Stay back, faerie.”
His smile sharpened. “Most people who threaten me don’t get to do it twice, but I’m feeling generous today.”
He took another step forward.
I stood up so abruptly, the chair fell on its side.
He held up both hands. “Easy, love. If I wanted you bleeding on this table, it’d already be done.”
“What do you want?”
“I heard the rumors about a human but had to see for myself.”
His swagger reminded me of fae males that visited Nectar. Their sharp smiles, the way they draped themselves over the silk-lined chairs, scattering coins like bait. How their fingers trailed along a girl’s jaw before choosing her.
“Your scent is all over the castle,” he drawled. “Followed it here.”
“Whoareyou?”
“I lead the Mountain Clan.”
The door wasn’t far. Twenty steps, maybe less. But he was faster. He’d catch me before I reached the hallway.
My fingers itched for a weapon. There was a heavy book near my hand. If I aimed for his face?—
Amusement sparked in his red gaze. “You won’t make it.”
Don’t look at him.
I averted my eyes.
He stepped around the fallen chair. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Such a warm voice. It slid through my mind like honey—thick, slow, sweet. The panic in my chest didn’t vanish, but it dulled.
