I know it’s working, because Dane’s smirk starts to fade into a single straight line.
“When is it my turn?” He demands, his gem eyes burning out at me so brightly I swear I’m getting flayed open by the heat alone. It’s easier to look at the doorframe near his face, not at his actual face.
“I assume you mean your turn to get fed,” I say. “Didn’t Vil tell you? He said he’d inform everybody.”
“Well he didn’t,” Dane snarls. “Because I’m his favorite toy to punish.”
“Because you don’t do what he says.”
“Because I do everything he says,” Dane steps into me, and I take a step back before his smell of leather-rosemary-gin can overpower me. “Whether I want to or not. Now when. Do I. Get fed?”
He says it crisp and clear and with such a powerful underlying tone of want it makes me shudder.
“Tomorrow is the five bouncers,” I manage. “The next day is Barnabus and the house fae. The next day is the -“
“Linking ceremony,” He interrupts.
“ - and the dormant high fae.”
“So where am I?”
“Last.” I swallow. His eyes flash at me.
“Why?”
“Because you -“ My skin tingles with the idea all his intensity is focused on me right now. I have his answers, and it makes me feel powerful for a split-second. “Because learning to wait could be good for you.”
His snicker is inflamed, less amused and more irritated and all of it coated in a thick layer of pure sex. “I’m usually the one teaching the lessons, not learning them.”
“A true teacher never stops learning,” I counter. He adjusts and leans on the doorway, one arm up and the other rubbing his forehead.
“How in the name of the Good Bright Lady -” He spits it like a swear. “- are you so fucking excellent at frustrating me? Do you practice in the mirror? You must practice. No one in the history of eternity has been this good at destroying my patience.”
“You have patience?” I play innocent. His severe brows shoot up and then come back down, a bitter frown drawing his lips.
“This is because I choked you, isn’t it? This is revenge. This is you making me wait and starve while everyone else glows because I hurt you. I apologized, remember?”
“Apologizing doesn’t make it go away,” I snap. “I’m afraid -“
The word snap-freezes in my throat. Dane’s cat-like, narrowed eyes widen ever-so-slightly. What am I doing, telling him how I really feel? He’ll just use it against me.
“You’re afraid of me,” He says, quieter this time. “But I was afraid that night, too, when I choked you.”
He’s making this all about him, still? I open my mouth to argue when he pulls his sword from seemingly thin air. I stagger back, but with strangely deadened eyes he takes the blade and offers it to me, handle-first.
“Take it.”
“What?”
“Take it. Slit my throat,” He insists. “Make me feel the pain you felt. It’s only fair.”
“Nothing about that is fair,” I argue. “That’s just….fucked up!”
“You prefer to do it with your hands, in exactly the same way I did to you?” He exhales, and before my eyes he drops to his knees, offering his long, beautiful throat up to me. “Here, then. I promise you I won’t fight back. Revenge is yours.”
“No.” I stagger back.
“It’s the fae way to settle it,” He argues.
“Well it’s not my way!” I shout. “I don’t want revenge. I just want a real apology, and for you to not be an asshole all the time!”
There’s a silence in the hall before Dane rises to his feet again, his sword disappearing into thin air. “What would a ‘real apology’ look like to you?”
“I don’t know! That’s for you to figure out.”
“I can’t figure it out if you don’t at least give me a clue,” He demands, eyes narrowed to gem-slits again. “Your human expectations are foreign and utterly mystifying.”
“You’ve slept with enough humans to know what a human apology looks like!”
He smirks lazily. “I’ve certainly never needed to apologize to any of them for it. Just one hint, little beast - it can’t be that hard.”
“An apology - “ I smack my forehead. I can’t believe I have to explain what a proper apology is - this is a kindergartener-learning-humanity level thing. “ - is when you show someone you care. That you care enough not to hurt them again.”
“But I don’t. Care about you.”
Even though my brain knows that’s true my idiot heart still deceived by his fae-pheromones caves in a little. “I know that! But you have to at least pretend. At least make a show of caring, even if you don’t!”
“So you’re fine with an insincere apology, then?”
“No! No one is! I just want you to show me you aren’t full of shit all the time, okay? You don’t have to care about the person, you just have to care about being a halfway decent living being who doesn’t go around hurting people! You asked for a clue - that’s all I’ve got!”
He muses over this, a glint of that serious look I saw on the lawn when he was practicing his sword play creeps into his eyes. Is he…actually considering my words?
“Just care about being a good person,” I sigh.
“I’m not a person,” he says instantly.
“Fae! Sewer rat! Big-head asshole! Whatever!”
Dane’s chuckle is dark and deep. “Alright. I’ll see what I can scrounge up out of my own withered soul. But no promises.”
“Like I’d trust you to keep a promise in the first place,” I scoff. He walks away, calling over his shoulder;
“Maybe I will, someday, if you keep yelling at me like this.”
I scoff again and close the door, flopping onto a silk-covered couch with a massive sigh. Sensing my distress, Sir Charles comes over and sits by the couch, and my hand lazily moves over to pet his giant, fluffy head.
“Fuck that guy, Sir Charles.”
Sir Charles barks once in agreement, tail wagging fast.
****
I know none of the fae sleep like I do, but I inch out of my room in the dead of night anyway and tiptoe down the hall to Vil’s room. He’s probably got it locked and probably some weird Brightness on it to keep me out, too, but if I don’t at least try, I’ll hate myself. There’s gotta be something in his room - a clue of some sort that’ll point me in the direction of breaking the fae free from their collars.
But Vil is, as always, one step ahead of me.
Altair sits in front of his room, in his true form, looking more intimidating than ever. If I get too close he’ll hear my thoughts, so I slink off back to my room before he has the chance to see me.
Vil’s room is a no-go. But there’s gotta be some other place in Monster Garden where Vil keeps secrets. Someone as smart as him wouldn’t keep them all in one place.
The next morning I lead the house fae to the library, and I eat bacon-fried mushrooms on sourdough toast, and down cups of honeyed peach tea while I scour the bookshelves. The library is incredible - like every other inch of this place - high vaulted ceilings, the bookshelves and tables and chairs all made of the same breathtakingly polished mahogany. A stunning stained-glass globe of Earth spins in one corner, another stained-glass globe in the opposite corner with alien topography. I ask the house fae what it is, but he just spins the globe silently - maybe it’s the Bright Place?
I’m looking for books on fae and Brightness stuff, but Vil’s stocked the shelves with only human books. Or so I think, until I get to a far shelf tucked away on the side. All of these books have strange golden lettering on their sides - and it moves. Definitely fae stuff. I pull them out one by one and try to read them but it’s all gold lettering that shifts constantly, like restless caterpillars looking for food. The house fae is no help - he either refuses to read them, or just plain can’t. Maybe he doesn’t even have a
voice.
“Thanks for the help, anyway,” I smile at him as we part ways - me to the feeding room, him to the kitchen. “Have a good day, okay? Your feeding’s tomorrow - don’t forget!”
The silver cart skids a little, and starts down the hallway.
I roll up my sleeves and slap my hands together. “Okay, May. It’s time to rock.”
Feeding five fae in one day is a lot, but I can do it. I’ve got more confidence than none, and that’ll have to do. The bouncers are waiting for me when I get there, in their usual suits and all lined up on chairs - their huge muscled bodies making the furniture look like kid’s chairs. I nearly laugh, but stop myself and smile instead.
“G-Good morning, gentlemen.”
They all just grunt. One of them on the end manages a grumpy “g’monin’.”
I call in the first guy, picking out an herb tray of sweet basil, shredded strings of coconut, and dried hazelnuts. Where Sir Charles was spicy and the high fae were complex, these guys feel more down-to-earth, with simpler, richer scents. I’m starting to get what Vil meant by ‘letting my gut choose’. I thought I was picking randomly this whole time, but every time I go over to the herb shelf one scent sticks out for my nose more than others, a different one with each fae. Like right now, I don’t even smell the strong coffee and marjoram scents of the herb tray next to the one I picked - all I can sense is the hazelnut mix.
I whirl around too late - the bouncer is already buck-ass naked. I fumble around for my blindfold, but do a quick double-take; I didn’t see anything at his crotch. His huge, strong belly is smooth, and below that, there’s just…nothing. No genitalia at all, just that same smoothness.
The bouncer grunts. “What are you lookin’ at?”
“N-Nothing. Here,” I lead him to the tub, which has expanded considerably. “After you.”
He settles in the warm water, and I sprinkle the mix into it.
“Smells good,” he says.
“Yeah, tell me about it. Every time I put a scent in I practically start drooling.”
“You’re gross,” He laughs, the force of his belly moving splashing the water around.
“And you’re super strong,” I marvel, my hands passing over his shoulders. “I can’t even feel your bones!”
“Damn right,” He puffs his chest proudly. “Shield fae like me are all muscle, all the time.”
“Do you usually not have, um,” I struggle for words, but he somehow gets me without them.
“What do I look like, a prissy high fae? Nah - we don’t need those to make babies.”
He laughs again, and the sound is so self-satisfied and natural I can’t help but laugh, too. There’s so much I don’t know about fae it’s pretty comical - my human brain struggles to leap over the idea of making babies without bumping uglies. I’m good at taking tests but absolute shit at imagination - when I was a kid I played with cardboard cut-outs because I thought barbie dolls were too complicated.
The bouncer hates me scratching his scalp, and when I just put my hands on him and rest them there like I do for the high fae he complains he can’t feel anything. But he seems to like the feeling of a massage, and he super likes it when I knead my hands into his belly, the mass of muscle there pliant and yet stronger than steel. I’ve noticed the lesser fae take much less time to feel full - Sir Charles was only a few minutes, and this bouncer stands out of the water after only a few minutes too and laughs, clapping me on the shoulder.
“Thanks. I feel like a million bucks.”
“Anytime,” I smile, and turn my back to give him privacy while he changes. “Call in the shield fae, will you?”
He nods, and the process starts all over again. Hazelnut and myrrh, this time, with a bit of dried truffle. And he too hates it when I go for his scalp, demanding I start at the stomach. He likes his massage much harder than the last guy, but pretty soon he’s thanking me profusely and calling in the next fae. Hazelnut, coconut, and white pepper. Massage the dang belly! Hazelnut, apple, and truffle, massage the stomach, but lightly! My hands start to ache like I’ve slammed them in a drawer too many times, and when the fifth shield fae finally walks out laughing and patting his stomach, my fingers are curling in on themselves with what feels like total rigor mortis.
“Okay,” I groan, resting my hands in the hot, fresh water that the tub refills with instantly every time someone leaves. “C’mon tendons, you can do it. Uncurl. Uncurl that shit. Work it.” My fingers twitch. “Okay, work it one millimeter at a time, I guess.”
“Enjoyed it that much, did you?” Dane’s silky voice echoes around the feeding room as he walks in, all white leather on today, while I’m in sweatpants and a messy bun. It should look ridiculous on him - cartoony - but he looks like a fucking supermodel, like he just walked off a Parisian catwalk and he’s on his way to smoke a cigarette and fuck a wine bottle, or a baguette. Or both.
“Now a wine bottle could be interesting, but I don’t think I’d fit through the neck,” He muses, and I shake my head to empty it out.
“What do you want?” I ask. “I’m sort of busy being exhausted.”
“We’re going to the human realm.”
“We are?” I raise an eyebrow. “Because I thinking it’s more of a ‘take a hot bad and go straight to bed’ sort of day.”
He snorts. “Did it really drain you that much?”
“No, it’s just my hands, and my arms,” I wince as I pull my fingers out of the tub. “Turns out massaging five fae in a row gets you good.”
“Massage?” Dane glowers. “What are you doing massaging them? All you have to do is put your hands on them and they receive the Brightness.”
“I know, but -“ I can’t meet his gaze. “It’s already an uncomfortable experience. So I just…try to make them more comfortable. That’s all.”
“You’re a Brightened, not a masseuse. Don’t waste your time - no one cares if you try to make them comfortable or not.”
“I care!” I retort, so loud and instant I almost scare myself. Dane takes a step back in his white boots, like I’ve slapped him. I mutter; “I care.”
Dane rolls his eyes. “Fine, I get it. You care. Less caring, and more coming with me to the human realm.”
“Why? At least give me a reason before you kidnap me again.”
“You’ll see when you get there,” He says cagily.
“Notttt good enoughhhh,” I sing-song. My horrible voice makes him flinch.
“It’s part of my apology, alright? So just come.”
All the cells in my body start chanting ‘come come come’ like a particularly slutty football crowd. I pull my hair from its messy bun and sigh.
“Okay. Let me put on jeans first.”
“No need.”
I raise a brow. “I’m putting on jeans before we leave.”
“Just -“ He kneads the bridge of his nose, then thrusts his hand out to me. “Just trust me. No jeans.”
“People are gonna think I’m a bridge troll if I go out in these!” I protest, motioning to the massive rip in the knee and the old chocolate stain on the pocket from where I forgot half a bag of Hershey’s kisses before I threw it in the dryer. Dane suddenly lunges for me and I dance behind the tub.
“Give -“ He reaches out for me. “- give me your - “ I duck to the side and he ducks with me. “ - hand, you little gremlin.”
“Oh, so I’m a gremlin now, not a beast?” I stamp my foot. “I’m not going out in these and that’s final!”
“And humans say fae are vain,” He scoffs, and when I make a mad dash for the door he traps me, both his arms on either side of me and the smell of rosemary instant. My fear is still very real, my throat throbbing where he choked me, but I’m so close I can feel his body heat through the white leather jacket, see the perfect kissable hollow of his throat -
COLD SQUID. TAXES. STOP THINKING ABOUT HIS BODY PARTS WHEN HE CAN DEFINITELY HEAR YOU.
“Or,” Dane’s smirk grows long
and languid and he leans in, so close I feel his breath on my ear. “We can stay here. And I can make an apology to you the old fashioned way.”
Before I can think his broad hand is on the small of my back, pulling me flush against him, his other hand lacing under my chin and tilting it up to edge our lips closer. His eyes glitter down at me, emerald streaks vivid and almost toxic against the blue. I can feel every hard ridge of him - his ribs, his chest, and something lower, a ridge, something steel-clad and pressing from my thighs to my belly button -