When neither laughter nor a reply reaches me, I squint, trying to spot my cousin through the pale plumes that are so dense I cannot discern my own toes.
I take a careful step forward, my gaze sharpening when, over the hiss of water, I catch the rhythmic thud of a heartbeat. Someone’s in here with me, but it’s not Naeva. Her pulse wouldn’t drill the steam.
I’m about to call out Lachlano’s name and tell him that if he’s planning on spooking me, he will regret it, or at least, his cock will—but then the steam moves…thickens.
Only an air-Fae can manipulate the element. Before I can make myself one with the steam, an arm locks around my throat.
And then a deep, pissed-off voice bends into my ear. “I’m no one’s favorite person.”
3
ISLA
Itry to twist around, but the male tightens his grip on my throat until I’m wheezing.
“Did Meriam give you access to my quarters?”
Since he’s speaking Glacin, I reply in his tongue, “Meriam? No, I let myself in.”
“Impossible. Try again. Who granted you passage?” He flexes his arm, the bone drilling into the column of my throat.
“No one!” I snarl.
I’ve never murdered a Faerie before, but there’s always a first time.
Through gritted teeth, I bite out, “Fucking—let—go.”
“Not until you tell me which sorceress or Serpent sent you in here andwhy.”
Is this guy serious? Does he actually think I pranced inside a steam bath in a towel to ambush him? How paranoid is this asshole?
Done explaining myself, I attempt to shift into my Crow but fail, which is as fucking weird as it is annoying. I grip the Faerie’s forearm and conjure my talons to shred his skin, but my nails don’t lengthen, which turns my mood violent.
Ishestifling my shifter powers, or did a Shabbin ward more than his rooftop?
I jam my elbow into his ribs, which earns me both a satisfying grunt and a tighter yoke. As my spa mate yanks me backward, I dig my human nails inside his skin, glad I keep them nice and long and pointed in this form. When I draw blood, he crushes my windpipe and lifts me off my feet.
All I wanted was to heat my frozen bones, which I would’ve explained if he hadn’t been so intent on strangling me. I roll my head as far forward as I can manage, then fling it backward. Satisfaction fills me when the back of my skull clips some protruding bone of his.
I hope it’s his nose.
I hope I broke the damn thing.
Yes, he’ll eventually heal, but in the meantime, it’ll hurt like a mother. Been there, done that.
Predictably, he growls into my hair, “You’re starting to try my patience.”
“And you’ve—obliterated—mine.”
Praying only my Crow side is being smothered, I dig my thumbnail into my chronically-scabbed index finger until my wound drips and then I lift my hand to my sternum and draw. When white and gold bleeds over my black hair, a sigh of relief trips past my lips. I don’t even care that I failed to alter my body along with my face.
A muted gasp disturbs the Faerie’s hold. “Yegma.”Witch.
Before he can recover, I whirl and clip him so hard in the mouth that it sends his head sailing sideways. I grab onto his shoulders and aim my knee at his groin. Somehow, he manages to bat it down before it can connect with that fragile part of his anatomy.
His fingers cinch my throat and squeeze hard enough to leave a mark. “Who are you?”
Though the light is insipid, and the steam thick, my eyes clock his flashing gray ones.
