His father’s tone leaves no room for argument. No matter how backwards, no matter how elitist, Khortland has one goal, and it’s getting permission to leave Zeneith. Arguing counterpoints to his father, defending Aerin in any way, defending the others—it’s all useless when it comes to Vitus Hale.
Even Aerin’s request to gather more information about the Wolf who died in the dungeons falls to the wayside. Khortland feels no guilt about it.
“I understand, Father,” Khortland says with a nod, raising his glass to the old Fae. Tension bleeds from his father’s frame.
“Good, good,” he mumbles, turning back to the map. Khortland waits silently, the pause longer than he would like, but finally his father relents. “You may travel tomorrow to Valtara.” Relief washes through Khortland. “But our guards will escort the lot of you. I don’t want any issues with your travels and undernocircumstances will you exit the tube in Keylar.” The request is not worth fighting over. Khortland simply nods, leaving his father to ponder his map.
58
AERIN
Aerin swallows another shot after faking smiles for pictures with a group of Shifters. The alcohol burns as it goes down, but she smiles anyways, forcing laughter at a club in South Zeneith.
“If you tag me in the post I’ll put it on my story,” Aerin winks at the Shifter whose phone was used for the photos.
“Oh my Gods? Really?! That would be so cool!” She squeals. Aerin was pictured entering the club, she posted pictures getting ready with Vyx and Quinn. The Vipers posted bathrooms selfies and pictures of the fancy drinks they were served. Aerin will be pictured leaving on the arm of Khortland, playing it up for the cameras. But a few random photos of her floating online from other creatures will only bolster the story they are perpetuating. Aerin pays for the group’s next round of drinks before excusing herself back to the dance floor.
Tonight, there is no Pixie Dust. There is no dancing against her bonded-mates, sandwiched between their large bodies. Though Aerin’s head is still foggy, swimming with exhaustion, emotional, physical, and magical. Add in the alcohol and the fact that she’s hardly been able to stomach food for two days—Aerinfeels like shit. On edge. Though if she falls off that edge, she isn’t certain what she’ll find, anger or sadness.
Aerin searches for Vyx and Quinn in the crowd, finding them dancing with a set of Fae who look like brothers. The third brother is waiting for her, and Aerin lets him slide in behind her. She fakes a few more laughs, singing along to the music as she sways her hips. The hands feel wrong holding her hips loosely.
No one stops him. Aerin thinks maybe that is the worst part. Not that her life is a lie or that her mother was murdered by her father, or that she is part of some Witch prophecy, or that her bond-mates could be in danger. No, the worst part is the blood-bond sharp like a dagger in her side. The worst part is this Fae touching her, and Malice not even paying close enough attention to notice. It’s the way Emrys looks at her with hesitation in his eyes, like he doesn’t quite trust her.
Falling towards sadness Aerin does her best to pull away from the edge.
Finally, the song ends, and Aerin slips away again, back into the crowd to flirt with other random males or chat up more groups of Shifters for photos. To do anything she can to make it seem like this is the best night of her life as her world crashes down around her.
After another lap, Aerin wanders down a hall, past the lines for the bathrooms. She considers getting fresh air, but the last door in the hallway catches her attention as a male Fae all but crashes into her on his way out of the room.
“Sorry,” he says, hands on both of her arms to keep her upright on unsteady feet. “Are you going in?” He holds the door open. It’s an office. A Spider Shifter sits at the desk counting a stack of cash.
Curiosity piqued, Aerin only nods to the male who shuts the door, sealing her in with the Spider. He pockets the cash and looks up, eyes flashing first with shock and then intrigue.
“Princess, I heard you were in my club. What can I do for you?” Something about his voice feels slimy.
“That seems more like a question I should be asking; whatcanyou do for me?” Aerin asks, sitting herself in the chair across from the Spider. His eyes travel over her exposed skin before coming back to her face with a smile.
“I just got something in, from the West,” he says, pulling open a drawer and dropping a white pill on the desk between them.
The recklessness inside of Aerin itches to take it. That part of her that wantsaway. Out of her head for just a few hours.
“What does it do?” Aerin asks him, picking up the pill and analyzing it. It has no markings, though in the light it gives off a faint shimmer, similar to Pixie Dust.
“It is compacted Pixie Dust mixed with Hannigan,” the Spider explains. Aerin nods, Hannigan is a hallucinogen isolated from Hannigan mushrooms that grow in the forest outside of Keylar. Hard to get your hands on.
Aerin knows this is a bad idea. She really, really does.
She puts the pill in her mouth anyways. She swallows.
“Put it on my tab,” she tells the Spider, standing up from the chair.
“You’d like me to charge your father for your drugs?” the Spider asks, humor in his voice.
Aerin shoots him a carefully placed smile over her shoulder. “For all I care, you can charge him double.” The Spider’s laugh echoes as she leaves his office, making her way back to the main floor of the club.
She hasn’t seen Malice and Emrys for a while, but assuming they are in VIP, she doesn’t bother. Not with the way they’ve been keeping her at an arm’s length. Instead, Aerin goes back to the bar to order another drink. A second gets served to her courtesy of some male Aerin doesn’t bother to thank.
She waits.
