“Shh.” He rises and crosses the cage to reach me. Combing my hair back, he kisses my forehead. “You were right to be worried. Cael had her in the dungeon.”
My hands move from my face. “What?”
“Apparently, she was going around stabbing people. And there may have been an incident with her art going unappreciated.” His fingers stroke my hair, methodologically. “It’s not important now. She’s safe. You’re safe. The pain is abating. My audiobook is delightful. All good things.”
I chew my lip and decide to broach the subject of hisdelightfulaudiobook. “What is…your book about? Or do I not want to know?”
“I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to know. It’s about an average girl who’s in love with a celebrity. One way or another, fate leads to their meeting, and they fall in love.” He traces my ear with a fingertip. “It’s substantially brighter than the stories I tend to enjoy, so I thought it’d be quite boring, but the writing isn’t bad. I’m glad I got approved for an audio ARC off NetGalley.”
I stare up at the dangerous faerie man who has, in the past two weeks of knowing him, kidnapped me, antagonized royalty, and threatened on numerous occasions to disembody people for my sake. I think that very same dangerous faerie man just told me that he’s listening to fanfiction, that he got early, off an advanced review copy site.
Which means he’s trusted on book review sites?
“Is it…from an independent publishing house?”
“An Ink&Paper audio production,I believe it said. I’m very grateful I got cleared for a copy. I’ve worked exceptionally hard to make sure my account looks favorable. I did worry that the overwhelming number of dark romances would make me seem an incompatible fit, however.”
“You really wanted this…” Fanfiction. “…book so badly?”
“Yes, well. It’s Brittny’s.”
Brittny… I feel like I’ve heard that name a few times. Is that…one of the people in the friend group? She’s with some guy named Ollie, right? And Zahra mentioned that they live in Faerie earlier, didn’t she? I think so. There are authors signed under Ink&Paper in the friend group? There are Ink&Paper authors living inFaerie?
That’s crazy.
They’re not a small publishing house by any means.
I think I met the head editor once… Nice man. Tall. Blond. His name was Desmond, I’m pretty sure. He really was so nice. I was there under a contract to model for some advertisements. That was probably one of the best jobs I can remember doing, and possibly it was the first time I’d ever met a truly respectful man.
I sniffle.
“Ah dear,” Castor murmurs, attempting to catch tears that haven’t yet fallen on his thumb.
“You’re so sweet,” I whisper. “Supporting your friend.”
He bristles. “She’s not my friend. I don’t believe I’ve so much as interacted with her. I’m merely invested in the happenings of my…” His lips purse, wiggle, struggle to form the word he wants.
“Are you trying to sayenemies?” I ask.
“Yes, bless you. Mythat.”
Uh-huh. Except, the sweet faerie man who can’t lie couldn’t call themthat. He’s really…so wonderful.
He dwells on my emotions for a moment, caressing the magic of our bond, then he turns his face squarely off me. “I might leave her a scathing review, crushing her hopes and dreams, decimating her self-worth. My schemes could be elaborate and wicked. You don’t—” His tongue ties again, on what I suspect is the wordknow, because not even he believes I don’t. Muttering, he says, “I believe there’s a horrific chance that Polly might be right about me… I’ve gone soft. I’ve…” He shudders. “…grown.”
Because he’s been lonely.
That thought is what does it—itbeing the full unleash of my pent-up hormones in the shape of tears.
Flinching, Castor bends to kiss my cheek. “Oh, love.”
“This is stupid,” I whisper. “I’m only a mess because I’ve been given permission, anexcuse. If no one had saidoh, by the way, you’re gonna have mood swings, I wouldn’t be having mood swings.”
“If you need permission to let your emotions free, by all means, take it,” Castor says, sweetly, while lingering to dot more kisses across my nose and cheeks.
I find myself sinking into the touches, relishing in his nearness, his kindness, his everything. “Castor?”
“Yes, mine?”
