Meathands cries even harder as he presses the scarf to his palm. “Not the duckies. This one was my favorite.”
“Come on, big boy,” Cane says, helping his friend to his feet. To us he says, “Uh, our two minutes are up. We’ll take our leave.”
“Wait,” Daphne says, halting their retreat. “Are we good here? You’re not going to do this again, are you?”
“No, we’ll stick to our jobs,” Cane says and Meathands gives a rapid nod in agreement.
“Promise me,” Daphne demands, and they utter promises—binding ones, since they’re both fae—that they’ll keep all further contact with Monty non-violent. All the while, they take backwards steps toward the mouth of the alley, eager to flee.
My stupefied mind sharpens, pulling me from my shock at seeing Meathands’ pathetic reaction. I clear my throat and take a step forward. “Wait.”
They freeze as I close the distance between us. Cane pales as I make a beeline for him, his eyes darting from my face to his walking stick and back again. “P-please,” he stammers, “I meant my promise?—”
I hold the cane out for him. “Here.”
“You’re giving it back?” He hesitates before inching his hand toward the stick. As soon as his fingers close around it, I give it a tug, pulling him a step closer.
“To remember our dance by,” I say with a wink, my free hand coming to the side of his face where I struck him. I give his cheek a gentle slap, eliciting a wince, and then release the cane.
The two fae take off at once.
I stare after them, catching my breath. My pulse beats at a rapid pace, vertigo tearing through my head at my relief.
Fuck, that could have gone terribly. But it didn’t. They’re gone, and neither Daphne nor I sustained any injury, save for the hand I caught the cane in. I whirl to Daph and find her staring at nothing, eyes unfocused, as if she too is reflecting on the events we just lived through.
My mind fills with a vision of her biting Meathands’ palm, then spitting his flesh back at him, snarling down at him like she isn’t half his size.
Blazing hell, she…
She’s even more incredible than I ever knew.
So fierce and terrifying in the best kind of way.
The most stunning creature alive.
My relief and adoration merge into one, culminating in a rupture of sound that bursts from my chest. The bark of laughter echoes through the alley, and another strain escapes my lips before I manage to pull myself together. My eyes meet Daphne’s and I expect to find her laughing with me.
But she isn’t laughing at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
DAPHNE
Monty’s laughter shatters whatever spell I was under, my cold confidence thawing and leaving only cracks in its wake. As soon as I sensed we were in danger, my inner hunter took over. Now that the threat is over, she’s retreated, and I’m left to come to terms with everything I said and did.
A coppery tang fills my mouth, and I recall the rage that tore through me when I ripped flesh from the fae’s hand. It’s a rage I’ve felt before, and it throws me back ten years in the past, when I tackled a girl to the ground and bit off her ear. The crowd had been cheering before, egging us on as we exchanged arguments. But as soon as I took it a step too far, they went silent.
And then, as shame caught up with me and I was forced to reassess what I’d done, I knew I’d made a mistake. Blood dripped down my chin—just like it does now—and drenched the other girl’s previously pristine white dress. She stared at me in horror, clutching her ear with a shaking hand. The mirth that had brimmed in our spectators’ expressions was gone, replaced with disgust. One person laughed. A dark and strangled sound. “She’s an animal,” she said, her amusement fading to revulsion.
And then my victim shouted up at me with tears spilling down her cheeks. “You’re a monster. You may look like a lady, but you’re nothing more than a beast.”
Then all the young women joined in, jeering?—
Monty takes a step closer, and I flinch, whirling away from him. My mind shifts back to the present but my heart is still in the past. For the love of the All of All, I can’t bring myself to look at him. How will I manage it if he looks at me the same way those girls did?
He wouldn’t, says a calm part of my heart, but this frantic, panicked side is so much louder. It’s the side that’s protected me all this time, ensuring I remember my manners, say the right things, make eye contact at the right moments, modulate my voice, smile when I’m supposed to. Be what society expects. Fit in. Don’t get cast out. Retreat to the quiet solitude of my apartment to recover from the exhaustion that comes with pretending.
You’ve never, ever had to do that with Monty, that calm part reminds me.
