“Wait a flaming hot cheeto second,” I blurt. “So I bathe them? Like, scrub them down? Touch their naked -“
“Yes. Please, Miss James, don’t be so juvenile. This is your job, and it is their sustenance. Do take it seriously.”
I tamp my blush down. “R-Right. Of course.” I look around for anything to distract me. “But that tub is way too small for Sir Charles. How will I -“
“The tub expands or contracts based on its fae occupant. Let us move on.”
He leaves and I scrabble after him, trying not to look Quinn straight in the face, or the crotch, or anywhere I’m going to see, apparently, which is everywhere.
“Sorry,” I mutter to Quinn. He tilts his blue-haired, curly head as we walk after Vil.
“For what?” He asks.
“I’m gonna see, um. All of your whole business.”
“I don’t mind,” Quinn’s voice is so gentle it feels like a feather-touch to my eardrums. “I’m looking forward to not being hungry anymore.”
And now I feel like the moron Dane calls me. If these guys are hungry, and I can do something about it - I shouldn’t be so ashamed and nervous about doing it. It’s just food to them - something necessary.
Vil shows me the grand dining room, filled with more magic glowing orbs and a long, fancy black wood table. There’s a kitchen that smells mouth-wateringly like chicken fat and fresh bread and when I round the corner it scares the shit out of me - there’s a pot stirred with a wooden spoon, except there’s no hand on the spoon. A rolling pin with no attached hands rolls out a wad of dough on a floured countertop. The moment we walk in it all stops, and Vil just smiles and says “Continue”. Everything picks back up, moving all on it’s own, floating logs of wood even being funneled into a cast iron oven that opens and closes by itself.
“A house fae,” Vil explains. “He’s very shy - never reveals himself to strangers. He barely reveals himself to me, even if I command him.”
“Hello?” I try into the empty kitchen. “It’s nice to meet you. That soup smells, um, really good.”
No response. Vil leaves and motions for me to follow. He points out his rooms, which I’m forbidden to enter, and Dane’s, Altair’s, and Quinn’s, and a fourth room belonging to someone named ‘Sythiel’.
“The green rose high fae,” Vil clarifies. “He’s out on a mission for me, in the human world. I doubt you’ll see him.”
“Doesn’t he have to feed on Brightness, though?”
“He’s getting it from elsewhere,” Vil says breezily. “Let me show you to your room.”
Across the way he opens the doors into a house. It’s a room the size of a small house, and my jaw hangs like a loose cabinet - luxurious blue carpet, a four-poster bed with gauzy curtains like I dreamed about having as a little girl, the glowing orbs in the air adding to the fairy-tale charm. Vil teaches me how to turn them on by clapping a certain way, and says if I have trouble I should just stand near them until they start to glow. A huge cherrywood dresser and table, elegant blue-lace chairs and a couch so fluffy it feels like a bed. And the windows, holy shit the windows - they’re twice my height and edged with white silk curtains, giving me a perfect view of the overflowing garden. The bathroom’s even nicer - all gold taps and a spotless ceramic tub sunk into the wall by the window and I nearly faint - the idea of taking a long, slow, hot bath with that beautiful view to my side instead of a quick shower while staring at old, peeling laminar nearly has me crying.
“T-This is amazing,” I clear my throat. “Thank you.”
“Thank yourself,” Vil says. “You agreed to it. And Quinn, of course. He takes care of most of the cleaning around here, so he’ll be looking after your room.”
“There’s no need, I’m pretty handy with a vacuum and a dust mop. I can do it myself -“
“You can’t,” Quinn says, his voice inching towards forceful for the first time. “Not like I can.”
Is that pride I hear in his voice? Vil hands me the list of fae names and asks for my schedule by tonight. He smiles happily.
“Welcome to my home, Miss James. Welcome to the Monster Garden.”
“Monster Garden?” I start. He nods.
“That’s what I’ve taken to calling it. That’s what I thought the fae were when I first came to the Bright Place - monsters. It’s rather fitting, don’t you think? A garden full of bloodthirsty and beautiful creatures.”
He contemplates this, then pivots and leaves. Quinn follows, but not before turning in the doorway.
“Dinner is at eight,” He says.
“Are there any keys?” I ask. “To my room?”
“There are no locks.”
“Can I get a lock? I don’t exactly relish the idea of sleeping in a house with -“ I stop myself. Quinn smiles that faint ghost of a smile I saw before I passed out last time.
“Fae cannot enter a room without permission. Unless you give permission, you will not be bothered.”
“And Vil - I mean, Van Grier -“
“You are his employee. I’m sure he will not harm you.”
The way he says it with such cool, quiet confidence has me all riled up in an instant. “Didn’t he capture you, too? Why do you trust him so much?”
It’s the first time I’ve seen Quinn’s pale, sky-blue eyes darken. The swirls of darker blue in them take over, until his gaze is like looking at two monstrous, intimidating storm clouds.
“I trust no one. I am simply doing the best I can with my current circumstance.”
“I didn’t mean it like -“
“You would be wise to remember that we are all prisoners, here,” Quinn says. “Even you. And not all of us can afford to rebel as Dane does.”
He leaves in a whirl of blue curls and butler coat tails, and I sink down on the bed with weak knees. Even me, huh?
I drown out the doubts in my head by putting my stuff away - textbooks at the beautiful antique desk, tampons under the sink and toothpaste and toothbrush on top of it’s pink marble counter. I stuff my clothes in the dresser, the few shirts and jeans I brought barely filling one drawer. My old, ratty pairs of underwear look morbidly out of place above the delicate dresser knobs carved and painted into gold seashells. I brought the daisy sundress, more out of pity than necessity.
Vil had said I’d have no reception in the Bright Place, and I don’t. If I want to send a text or call people I’ll have to wait until I go back to the human realm for school. I could go now, I guess, but the idea of bothering Quinn after our little confrontation, or Altair, or especially Dane - no. My little millennial brain can wait a few hours to refresh my apps.
“I can hear you, you know,” A purring voice reverbs. I leap off the bed and clutch my phone to my chest. There, leaning in my doorway like it’s the easiest thing in the world, stands Dane - still shirtless, though significantly cooled off. His white-blonde hair looks like he dunked it in water, slicked back with it.
“W-What?”
“I’ve got a nose for sin, remember?” Dane makes air quotes over Altair’s words. “Every time you think about fucking me, I can hear it. I heard you at the window.”
My spine goes ramrod straight. Conversely, my insides dissolve to jelly. Don’t think about it, or him, or it and him together. Fuck fuck fuck he could hear me thinking about him? This whole time? Every lewd scrap? Think about cold squid, or taking out the garbage, or doing taxes - anything but him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I sniff. God, I’m the world’s greatest actress and I didn’t even know it until now.
A long, shadowed smirk spreads on his lips, and his gemstone eyes glitter maliciously. “Playing innocent is pointless, little beast. I know exactly how filthy the inside of your slow brain is.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl. Okay, maybe not the greatest actress. But it’s not my damn fault - something about him just gets under my skin. Under my skin, and over it, and into it - no! I yell at myself internally like a puppy t
hat just chewed shoes again. Bad me!
“You could, you know. Fuck me.” Dane spreads his hands with a smirk, then laces his thumbs in the belt loops of his leather pants, dragging them down his hips just an inch more, those gorgeous v-shaped indents between his muscle and bone making me physically dizzy. “If you wanted. I’ve decided your unique personality makes up for your inferior body.”
Decided. Inferior. What a shithead. I bristle; “I’d rather fall in a pit filled with black mambas than ever touch your nasty, arrogant ass.”
“That’s the beauty of it,” He chuckles, the sound like midnight honey. “I know all your human romance novels and movies have told you otherwise, but you don’t have to like someone to fuck them. Hate works even better, sometimes.”
“For the last time - screw off. Before I make you take me to the human world.”
I hover my fingers over my silver collar threateningly, but he just sighs.
“You prefer shoddy human motels, then? The walls are too thin for my liking, but - fine. I’ll make concessions for you. I won’t be the one screaming my name, after all.”
Dane’s wicked smirk sends my heart through the roof of my mouth. And that’s when I get it.
“Wait - back at the club,” I start. “You said all women want fae. And all men. So what I’m feeling - this is just that? Something you fae have that draws us to you?”
Dane makes that ‘tsk’ again, narrowing his left eye with it. “And here I thought you’d stay stupid forever.”
Hope springs eternal, or in my case, temporary. “Can’t you turn it off? Turn the dial down to three instead of eleven - on me, at least?”
“If I could turn it down at all, my life would be considerably easier,” He drawls. “No more humans falling over themselves and crowding my head with their selfish desires - you included.”
I flinch and boomerang back angrier. “It’s not like I can help it! You tried to choke me, you call me an idiot every chance you get - if it wasn’t clear, I despise your guts! If you weren’t magic or fae or whatever, I wouldn’t even give someone like you the time of day!”
He’s not human, not like me. He doesn’t flinch. His face goes frosty and unreadable in an instant, a cold fury welling in his eyes. I’m scared for a split-second, but then I remember Quinn’s words - fae can’t come in uninvited. And it must be true, because he just lingers at the doorframe even though he looks like he wants to come in and strangle me all over again.
“Get out,” I snarl.
“I was never in to begin with,” He snarls back.
“Then just go away. I’m sick of looking at you.”
Later on, when it’s nighttime and I’m soaking in the bathtub full of roses after a fancy meal of lamb and lemon potatoes served by the invisible house fae, I’ll regret these words. In the softly-candlelit bathroom they’ll echo back at me, and I’ll realize they were too harsh. Even for him. I’ll wave off the way I saw his face fall off a cliff and into the sea - suddenly absent of any emotion at all - and I’ll pin it on him taking a hit to his overblown pride, and nothing more.
Because he’s fae.
Because he’s Dane.
Because he’s untouchable.
And he can’t possibly know what it’s like to be hurt.
-6-
I sleep like the dead in my bed - it might as well be made of clouds. I’m woken to the sound of a little bell ringing, my door opening and a silver cart pushed just over the doorframe - enough for me to grab a cinnamon roll and a mug of hot chocolate from it. I nearly shriek when a piece of melon on the cart rises up as if in offering, but then I realize the invisible house fae must be here. Of course! He’s in charge of the food. The melon drops at my surprised throat-scream, and I pick it up instantly.
“I’m sorry,” I throw my eyes to approximately where the fae must be. “I forgot you were invisible for a second.” A pause, and I take a whopping bite of cinnamon bun, the frosting sticking to my chin as I smile. “These buns are awesome, by the way! Oh, and let me try that melon - I bet it’s sweet as hell.”
When the house fae leaves, the cart tinkling behind him, I take another bath. Except I can’t soak, this time, because I’m on a schedule.
And I’m dreading it.
I made Altair my first feeding ever, because I wanted it to go down as smooth as possible. And with me seeing as few boners as possible. Altair only likes guys, so there’s no way in hell either of us should feel awkward…right?
Wrong. Of course I’m wrong. I can’t get simple questions on exams right, why the hell did I think I’d be right about feeding a fae with my touch-energy or whatever?
Altair stands there in the doorway of the bathroom just off the pool, in a plaid shirt and dark jeans, his long hair left loose today and a blush evident on his olive cheeks.
“I knew this’d be weird,” He chuckles nervously. I stand up from the ivory stool beside the tub and bob on my feet.
“Um, yeah. Hi. Weird doesn’t actually begin to cover it.”
Altair’s broad lips crack into a grin. I hadn’t realized how much wider his jaw is than Dane’s - if Dane is a wasp, then Altair is a bumblebee, mostly-harmless and adorable and much beefier. Did I just say adorable? Crap - I hope he doesn’t mind-hear that.
“Let’s pretend I didn’t, shall we?” Altair walks in, closing the sliding door behind him. “Do you want me to change, or -“
“You have to be naked. Vil said that. I already asked if you could keep your underwear on but he said no.”
Altair laughs brightly, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “You look so disappointed about it.”
“Well -“ I sputter, my fingers dancing over the dishes of herbs on the shelves. Vil said the Brightness will lead me to the right one for each fae, and to just go with my gut, so I pick lavender and honeycomb and black sea salt. Something soothing. “ - I’m not really a dick-seeing expert.”
“A sexpert, if you will,” Altair offers, and I blurt a laugh.
“Who taught you that word? God, humans make up the weirdest shit, don’t we?”
“I think it’s cute,” Altair insists. The sound of heavy jeans and a belt hitting the tile floor echoes. He sees my hesitance to turn around, and says; “You okay?”
“Since you’re gonna read my mind anyway; no. I feel like jumping out the nearest window.”
“Look, here.” I feel him looming behind me, his body heat seeping into my back. Something soft like silk falls over my eyes, and he ties it around my head snugly. A blindfold. “There. Now you don’t even have to look.”
“But -“
“I’ll lead you over, and then you just go by feel. Easy enough, right?”
He leads me to my stool and turns the water on. I lay my hands in the water and dump the herbs in, the smell of melting honey and sharp lavender flooding my nose.
“Wow, that smells so nice. And really strong.”
“When you deprive one sense, your others get stronger,” Altair agrees, and I pull my hands out as I feel his ripples as he steps into the water. There’s a splash as he sinks down, the tub just the perfect size to accommodate him. Vil was right - it does adjust. I can feel the lip of it - it was much smaller before Altair walked in.
The water is so warm, the steam pillowing my face. Altair’s hands lead mine to his shoulders, the gentle drip of water the only thing I hear as he moves.
“Start here, would you? My shoulders are starving.”
Right - starving. That’s why I’m here, to feed him.
“Let me know if it’s working,” I say. I stretch my palms over the hard bones of his shoulders, and not quite sure what to do I pass them back and forth aimlessly. I feel nothing different at all, other than his soft skin beneath mine, but instantly Altair gives off a low moan.
“Bright Lady - that’s much better. A little slower?” He pleads.
The idea of someone as handsome as Altair pleading with me sets off some fire inside me, and I go as
slow as humanly possible, letting my hands rest on every tender bit of skin I can reach - cupping his neck, running my hands through his luxuriously long hair, scratching his scalp as I go - when I was a kid I loved it when my Dad would scratch my scalp, and so I figure it’ll only help. Maybe fae are different, maybe they hate it - but Altair’s occasional soft moans tell me otherwise.
“You’re treating me like a king,” He laughs hoarsely. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“Is it…not supposed to be like this?”
“No, no - don’t get me wrong; this is great. It’s much closer to the real Bright Place than Van Grier ever gets. He does it too quick, too surgically. When we fae absorb from the Bright Place it feels like an embrace, like it’s kissing our whole body. I’d just forgotten how tender it can be, that’s all.”