I bristled, reeling back as if he had struck me.
“Are you saying that Wyn Kendrick did a better job at evaluating the rifts than I did?” I asked, stunned.
“Yes,” Lark answered, growing irate with my affront. “And he started out with far less information than you.”
I went completely still, my mind utterly emptied as though my brain itself had ceased functioning. There was a ringing in my ears as I came to terms with what this powerful Fae was suggesting. I had prided myself, my entire life, on my relentless search for knowledge, on my scholastic achievements and academic research, while actively ignoring the single most significant discovery in all of human history. I’d been given this information at birth and I had hidden it because I had been asked to but I had not tried to investigate on my own either, to examine myself and that half of me which I had spent nearly sixty nears pretending did not exist.
“They would have killed you,” he repeated. “Your chosen people.”
I saw red. Roaring in frustration, I lunged for him. He was there, sitting primly on that armchair, one leg crossed lazily over the other, and then he wasn’t and my nails were tearing into upholstery rather than his smug face. I whirled to find him standing beside Rook, brow raised in warning.
“Now, now, now,” he chided with the click of his tongue, “we weren’t finished talking.”
“I am,” I snapped and stormed toward the door.
He didn’t stop me, though we both knew he could. He let me walk away, let me take those steps back down to the street and stomp down that alley.
“You won’t be welcome here,” he called out from the door through which I had just exited.
I balled my hands into fists and clenched them so tight that my nails cut bloody half moon shapes into my palms. But I hesitated in the shadows, not yet ready to step into the street beyond, because I knew he was right. Like it or not, I was a mortal in the immortal plane. They wouldn’t want me here. They would chase me out. Or worse.
I blinked out at that passing sea of orange, people hastening somewhere, not even looking my way. Not yet.
I looked down at my outfit. Black coat over a black turtleneck, tight black pants, thick black boots. They had dressed me like them, in their color. No orange. Not a drop.
“I never wanted to force you,” Lark spoke again and his voice was a whisper against my ear, his warm breath on my neck sending shivers through me. “But we ran out of time and, I’ll be the first to admit, I’m not the most patient man.”
I turned my head slightly to the side, looked up into those dark eyes only inches from mine, chest heaving.
“I won’t drag you back to that apartment,” he promised and my shoulders relaxed slightly, knowing that I wasn’t in immediate danger, not from him. “I won’t capture you like some wild beast. It’s your choice. It will always be your choice.”
My breathing hitched, my expression softened.
“You never had a choice before,” he said. “You were placed in the mortal realm and that’s where you lived for sixty years. Give this place a chance. Give us a chance. And then decide. I’ll take you back the moment you say you want to go.”
“You said it yourself,” I muttered, staring out at the Fae passing in the streets beyond. “I’m not welcome here.”
“You will be with us. They won’t dare to touch you if you’re with us.”
I turned to him, tilting my head to the side.
“Why not?” I asked. “Who are you?”
Lark set his jaw, frowning as he turned out to the masses passing us by without a second glance.
“I’m going to go back and Rook and I are going to have a nice dinner while we await our visitor,” he told me, ignoring my question. “You’re welcome to join us. You’re welcome to stay with us for as long as you wish. I will answer your questions. But for now, have dinner with us.”
He held out an arm and I stared at it with trepidation.
“I am your friend, Ren,” he said then, his voice soft now too as he leaned closed to me, eyes firmly on mine. “But don’t trust me yet. Let me earn it.”
I stared at him for a moment, considering, but in the end I took him by the arm and walked back to the apartment where Rook was waiting, even allowing a small smile of relief when I returned.
Chapter eight
A Family Affair
IexpectedthetwoFae males to wave their hands and dinner would appear on the table, laid out like a fabulous banquet fit for a king. But they actually cooked with their own hands. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as I watched them move seamlessly around each other in the apartment’s small kitchen, tossing each other herbs and spices, bickering about how much lemon juice was enough and how much was too much. It was so utterly normal.
