“Oh, come on, you can tell us,” Kallan says, coming around the bench to take his turn.
Bryer cracks a large smile. “Yeah, we’re well versed in Aerin’s brand of trouble.”
Something pinches in Malice’s gut. Anger? Jealousy? Protectiveness?
Bruin flashes the twins a glare. “That’s enough.” His voice is cold. Both twins go sheepish, focusing back on the workout. Bruin once again claps a hand to Malice’s shoulder, steering him away from the other two Fae.
In a low voice he says, “But really, is she giving you any trouble? I know she can be a lot to handle.” Bruin glances over at his sister, who is running another round of sled pushes. Her toned arms are braced against the sled, her legs driving hard into the ground beneath her.
Sometimes it’s hard not to marvel at Aerin.
Malice looks away, clears his throat.
“She’s having a hard time accepting that I’m assigned to her,” Malice admits as vaguely as possible.
Bruin turns, also looking at his sister. She stands near the sled now, at the end of the line of turf, breathing heavily. As if feeling their eyes on her, Aerin flips them off over her shoulder, without glancing away from her phone. Bruin swallows hard before letting out an unconvincing chuckle.
“She can be stubborn. Try to find some way to relate to her,” Bruin offers.
Malice almost scoffs. Nothing about the Party Princess is relatable to Malice. They have no common ground to stand on, and even if they did, is it the best idea to let himselfrelateto Aerin Tolvare?
She’s selfish, vapid, and reckless. Malice repeats the mantra over and over in his mind.
Bruin lowers his voice further, leaning in close to Malice, as if conspiring with him. “I need someone looking out for her, you understand?”
Malice nods in response. “Of course.”
“Great!” Bruin beams, standing up straight and clapping his hand to Malice’s shoulderagain.
“Are you two done gossiping? Because I’m leaving now.” Aerin’s voice so close is like ice water over Malice’s head. Bruin opens his mouth to speak but the glare Aerin shoots him is deadly enough that he snaps it closed again.
Malice is surprised Aerin bothered to inform him, though the way she grabs his wrist and drags him away from Bruin tells Malice why.
“We are not talking to my brother,” Aerin snarls as they exit the gym.
“Since when are ‘we’ a ‘we’?” Malice asks.
Aerin whirls on him, dropping his wrist and narrowing her eyes. They are extra golden in the warm morning light. In fact, all of Aerin is extra golden. Her hair shines. Her skin isluminous, pink coloring her cheeks from the exertion of her workout.
“If you ever want to know how I sneak past you, then I’m going to have to trust you,” Aerin informs him. The temptation is heavy. He’s seen Aerin’s late-night exploits in the tabloids more than once—though she never passed his post in the living room, where he sat awake waiting. Not knowing drives Malice wild.
“And how would I earn your trust?” Malice’s question is dripping in sarcasm.
“You prove that you’re on my side.” Malice doesn’t think things are really that black and white, but maybe to Aerin, they are. “Easy first step: don’t speak to my brother.”
Malice doesn’t get the opportunity to agree or disagree, because Aerin turns on her heel, and starts running. Malice has no choice but to jog after her.
Malice’s feetpound on the pavement after Aerin. She’s up to a sprint now, her long legs striding gracefully as she races towards the southern-most plaza. She doesn’t always run this route, but whenever she does, it ends in a flat-out sprint that has Malice cursing under his breath.
His weight, wings, and general muscle mass do not lend well to speed, at least not on the ground. Not to mention after completing an entire lifting workout and sparring session, his legs are tired.
[Why are you torturing us with this again?]
[Shut. Up.]Malice snarls, fortifying the doors in his mind. The beast inside of him seems to only grumble in annoyance before re-entering a slumber.
Aerin reaches the plaza, pounds past the fountain, and skids to a stop just at the top of the wooden stairs that lead down to the beach. She holds her hand up with her palm out in front of her as if pressing it against something while her chest heaves.
Malice allows himself to slow much earlier, closing the space between them with a few strides on shaky legs. He looks out to the endless expanse of blue water. He swears he sees a Mer off in the distance, but in a blink, the smudge on the horizon is gone, and Aerin is tearing his attention from the ocean by spinning to face him.
