I reach out and tap the woman on the leg. She sits up and puts her hand over mine, then lifts my little finger, almost ripping in off.
“You don’t touch me, ever,” She snarls like a wounded beast.
I grin, glad that capture hasn’t dulled her fighting spirit. “Just checking to see you're alive.” She releases my hand and I wiggle my finger to make sure it isn't broken. It's not. “Not a friend of yours then?”
She glares at me, then something flickers across her face. Whatever the thought was, it sours her expression, and she pulls away from me. Her hand flutters to her waist and I know she's checking for weapons. I let her come to the realization that we are unarmed on her own.
Her gaze hardens once again. “From his eyes, I thought he was a friend of yours.”
“What do you mean?” I didn't get a good look at our captor. He was too far away, and the setting sun was dazzling. “You got a good look at him?”
“No, but I saw his eyes as he leaned over, and they gleamed gold like yours. Only monster’s eyes gleam gold.”
I smile, she's right but also hideously wrong. “Only the fae have eyes that gleam gold. And it takes one to recognize one.”
She stares at me with dark eyes. I'm glad looks can't actually kill, or I’d be bleeding out. “What are you talking about? Fairies?”
“Yeah. I'm fae and everything I've been hunting and killing is also fae, well from one of the faery realms. The creatures tend to create havoc in the human world, so we prevent that from happening.”
“Who is we?”
Now that she isn’t pointing a gun at my chest, I can pay more attention to her. She’s pretty. All sharp cheekbones and attitude. “Other riders, fae men who hunt monsters…just like you.”
Her jaw works as she considers the information that maybe I’m not the bad guy here.
“Only the fae can see the monsters.” And a few humans who for one reason or another have had the veil ripped away. It doesn’t usually end well for them. I stand and a weight forms around my ankle.
A scowl forms, knitting her eyebrows. “I’m not fae.”
I curse and take a step. Then my gaze tracks the length of rope, even though I know where it’s going to end…on her ankle. It’s fancy rope, and it looks like our captor knew what he was doing and came prepared. Around my ankle is a metal cuff, rope threads through it, but it’s not knotted. It’s crimped. And with no blade, I’m not going to be able to get it off.
She lifts her gaze to look at me and doesn’t need to say a word.
We’re far too close to the tear, unarmed and without water. Dead.
“Sweetheart. I saw the gold in your eyes the moment you got close to me.”
4
Felicity
Istare at him. He’s full of shit. I’m not a fairy, or fae, or whatever he wants to call himself besides monster.
It’s because of him that I’m now tied to him. I fiddle with the cuff, the rope—one of those fancy rock-climbing ones that doesn’t cut easy. Even if I had a knife, I’d be better off cutting off my foot. I’m not that desperate, yet.
“You’re lying. Maybe you’re in on this.” I edge back as far from him as I can, which is two yards. Far closer than I like to be to a golden eyed monster. The ground is warm beneath my hands, but that will soon fade, and the temperature will drop away. Nighttime in the desert is as brutal as the day.
I run my fingers over the rocky ground, ignoring the bite of the stones through my jeans. I saw him be shot with an arrow and fall, but that could’ve been an act.
I don’t want to trust him. Or believe him.
“If I was in on this, I wouldn’t have knocked myself out, stolen my weapons and tied myself to you.” He crosses his arms, and his biceps strain the sleeves of his T-shirt. “What we should be arguing about is if our captor was hunting you or me?”
“You, clearly.”
“Why?”
“Because you are a…fae.” I stop myself from saying monster just in time, but from the twitch of his lips I know he heard the stumble.
