“Hello?” I spin in a circle, scanning the meadow for someone—anyone—but see nothing. The green grass is covered in bright flowers, but as my panic begins to set in, the sky darkens, adding to my fear. Where the hell am I? I was literally just in the—memories rush back.
A gunshot.
Pain.
Blood.
Haunting golden eyes.
It all comes rushing back to me, and the blooming ache in my chest grows substantially as realization dawns.
I died.
“Hello!” I scream it now, terrified of what is happening to me. Taking off at a full-blown sprint, I rush forward, running until my lungs should have burned. If I’d still been alive.
Ahead, a massive house comes into view. Relief floods through my body. Maybe I’m not dead; maybe Ridley transported me here somehow. He was there, wasn’t he?
A woman stands out in front of the house, and I offer her a wave. Though, with one look at her, I choose to stay a safe distance away. Huge sores cover her greying skin, and patches of her hair are missing as though they’d been ripped from her scalp. “Are you okay?” I ask her.
A breeze flutters by, and I choke as my lungs fill with the putrid stench of rotting flesh.
“Fine. Waiting.”
I look behind me then back to her. Is she crazy? Dying? Both? “Who are you waiting for?”
“Someone. He promised to come get me. Leave this place, now.” She glares at me then shifts her gaze back to the horizon.
“I haven’t seen anyone.”
“He promised he would get me out of here. That he would free me if I gave him the wolf.”
“Who promised you?”
“The prince.”
“Prince?”
She turns back to me. “Why must you ask so many questions, you insolent beast?”
“I—”
“Rachel.”
I whirl. Ridley stands just behind me, eyes full of unshed tears. His shoulders slump, and while he’s an arrogant bastard, I can think of nothing else but running for him.
So I do.
I sprint toward him, slamming into his body and wrapping both arms around his waist.
His arms come around me, the embrace making me feel safe and secure despite the fear burning a hole through my chest. “Am I dead?” I ask him.
“Not for long,” he replies.
I wake with a jolt. Heart hammering, I sit up and attempt to take deep breaths to calm my nerves. In and out. Rachel, get ahold of yourself. It was just a dream. Except, it wasn’t. Nothing about that was a dream. I can still smell the stench of rotting flesh, see the way the ooze crept from her body.
But worse than all of that is the fact that I can still feel Ridley’s arms come around me as though I’m the single most important thing in the world to him.
Desperate for fresh air, I toss the blankets off my legs and push to my feet. The carpet is plush beneath my toes as I make my way to the window. Without paying much attention, I throw it open and am met with a biting cold that can only mean one thing: winter is here.
I’m awestruck by the blanket of snow covering the ground just outside my window.
And yet, even though I love everything about this time of year, the sight of it makes me want to cry. I know I’m being ridiculous, that I owe Ridley a fervent thank you, and still, I hope I never see him again.
Maybe then I can get him out of my damned head.
The doorbell chimes, making me jump. Heart hammering, I press my palm to my aching chest and mutter a curse as I head for the door.
Absolutely ridiculous to be so freaked out over a damned doorbell.
“Who is it?”
“Bronywyn.”
Thankful it’s not Ridley trying to be normal and knock for once, I pull open the door to the petite blonde standing on the other side. The second our gazes meet, she rushes forward and wraps her arms around me in a move that is completely unlike the witch I’ve known for years.
She’s never been overly known for her warm side, but it seems being openly in love has changed that for her.
“Thank goodness you’re back.” She releases me, so I shut the door.
“I’m sorry I was gone. I needed time to process.”
“I completely understand.”
“Coffee?” I ask her, and she nods.
“Please.”
I head into the kitchen and fill the water tank. As I’m putting the coffee grounds inside the basket, I glance over to see her staring at me. It takes everything in me to resist reaching up and twirling the white ends of my hair. Another gift given to me from whoever the hell runs the Veil Ridley pulled me out of. “I know, I look different.”
“Your power signature,” Bronywyn corrects. “It’s astounding.”
I stiffen. “Is that like a smell?”
Bronywyn snorts, and I turn in time to see her bend over at the waist, nearly choking as she struggles to control her laughter.
“What? Do I stink now?”
“Oh my gosh, no!” she takes a couple of deep breaths and manages to straighten, though the humor is still present in her eyes as she levels her gaze back on me. “It’s a feeling, the air around you is charged with magic. Very similar to Ridley and Fearghas’s.”
I don’t immediately respond, just continue prepping the coffee pot. Power signature? What the hell does that even mean? What does it do? Can everyone feel it?
After pressing the button on the coffee pot, I turn to face her and lean back against my countertop.
“Are you all right?” she asks softly.
Not seeing a point in lying, I shake my head. “Not even a little bit.”
“Talk to me. Tell me what’s going through your head.”
I chew on my bottom lip, unsure how much I should fess up to. I mean, I trust Bronywyn entirely, but telling a supernatural I don’t want to be a supernatural seems harsh. Sighing, I shake my head. “I don’t know what I am anymore. I mean, I have my memories, my personality, but there’s this whole other side to me now, and I have no clue how I’m supposed to handle it.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I died a human, Bronywyn—a normal human with normal desires—and now I’m a freaking fairy!”
She snorts. “Don’t let Fearghas or Ridley hear you say that.”
“Ugh, and then there’s Ridley.” Covering my face with both hands, I shake my head.
“What about him?”
“He has literally staked a claim on me. Like those old western movies, ‘I see this land. It is mine. I’ll shoot anyone who tries to claim it from me’.”
I can tell that Bronywyn is mildly amused with my predicament or, more than likely, my explanation of it, and the fact that she’s not offended gives me the strength to continue. “It’s like I have literally no choice anymore. I can’t get married, have kids, be normal. That was all decided for me when he pulled me from the Veil. And now, on top of that, I can’t even choose who I want to sleep with for the rest of my life? How the hell is that fair?”
“I don’t think that’s true,” she says softly. “You are still your own person, coming back as a fae didn’t change that, it just made you—different. Like a new hair color.”
“A new hair color? Really?”
Bronywyn grins and crosses the floor toward me. As soon as she’s close, she reaches up to touch my shoulder, and the sunlight glints off the ring on her finger. “Maybe not a new hair color, but think about all the good you can do now. As a fae, you are immune to all human ailments. No flu, no contagious diseases, you can just help people.”
“That’s if I still have a job.”
“From what I understand, Ridley texted some of your co-workers as you and let them know you were ill and needed your leave of absence pushed out.”
“Seriously?” Shouldn’t that piss me off? Why the hell do I find it mildly thoughtful that he was watching out for me?
“Take things a day at a time, Rachel. One day at a time,” she repeats. “That’s really all any of us can do.”
“I guess.” The coffee pot beeps, letting me know it’s finished, so I retrieve two mugs and fill them with steaming liquid. “The dematerializing thing will really save on travel.”
“Seriously though, I’m jealous about that one.”
I slide her cup toward her and lean on the counter, resting my chin on my hand.
Bronywyn chews on her bottom lip before meeting my gaze.
“What?”
She sighs. “You really should talk to Ridley.”
Groaning, I drop my face to the countertop. “Not you, too.”
“You didn’t see him, Rachel. After you died. I mean, shit, he literally snapped the neck of that councilman the moment he pulled that trigger, and as you were dying, he looked like he wanted to die right alongside you.”
“Because his magic decided to have a boner for me.”
She shakes her head. “It’s more than that. Did you ask him what it cost him to pull you out?”
“What do you mean?”
Her eyes narrow on my face as though she’s expecting me to already know the answer to my own question. “A fae cannot just go into the Veil and pull someone out. It takes something from them in return. Hell, it can cost them their soul if it chooses to.”
My jaw drops as I process what she’s said. All of that is news to me, and it certainly puts things into a new perspective. Ridley risked his soul to pull me out? Is the bond on his side really that strong? “I didn’t know that.”
“That’s why Fearghas can’t dematerialize. He pulled Cole from the Veil for Delaney.”
“Seriously?”
She nods. “Delaney was tricked into killing him, and it destroyed her, so he risked everything to bring him back.”
“Shit. You guys have complicated lives.”
“That’s an understatement.” She takes another drink of coffee. “But I really do think you should at least talk to Ridley. You don’t want a relationship with him? Fine. But he deserves at least one conversation. The guy did save your life, and if you truly want my opinion on the whole not getting to choose thing? You didn’t choose death, right?”
I sigh in defeat because I know I’m being a stubborn ass. “True.”
“And are you really mad at Ridley for bringing you back?”
Swallowing hard, I consider her words. I’d told him I wished he would have just left me dead, but honestly, I don’t truly believe that. I wish I was still human, sure, but at least, I’m not rotting alongside that creature in the Veil. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”
“Good.”
Ridley’s handsome face swims into view. His grin, the way his eyes blaze with power when he’s pissed, it’s all I can think about it.
My stomach drops, somersaulting as the world around me disappears. When my feet touch the ground again, I’m standing in what appears to be the living room of an apartment I don’t recognize. “What the—”
I turn slowly, studying the masculine space, including a massive lack of personal photographs. In fact, it looks like a staged apartment rather than somewhere someone lives.
The ink on my skin begins to warm, awareness spreading through me which can only mean one thing.
And then he comes around the corner, and I’m struck stupid by the naked chest covered—and I mean covered in ink.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I—” Ridley steals the very words from my mouth as I continue to gape at him. Green towel hung low on his waist, his bare chest is on full display, and I absolutely devour the intricate tattoos covering his muscled torso. The ink snaking up his forearms and both biceps matches the ink on my own arms, but the rest of it—it’s completely unique.
As is the huge scar running down his left pec. I’m drawn to him, a moth to a flame, and before I know it, I’m taking a cautious step toward him.
He, however, remains rooted in his spot. “What are you doing here, Rachel?”
His sharp tone rips me from my stupor. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Eyebrows drawn together, he glares as he crosses both muscled arms over his chest. “And your phone was broken?”
“Look, I don’t know how any of this dematerializing crap works yet. I thought about talking to you, and here I am.”
“Then think about being somewhere else,” he replies as he turns on his heel and stalks away.
I follow. I shouldn’t, I know, but his complete disinterest in talking to me pisses me off. “Hey, I’m not done!”
“I am. And unless you want to see me naked, I suggest you turn around and walk away.”
The urge to remain where I am while he drops that towel is strong, but to save myself some serious drooling, I decide to do exactly what he suggested. Well, almost what he suggested. Instead of leaving, I head into the living room and plop down onto his couch.
I’m not so arrogant to believe my minor interactions with the supernaturals Bronywyn brought me over the years were enough to teach me everything I need to know. This whole world is brand new to me. I know my immediate reaction has less to do with what I am now and more to do with the simple fact that I’ve had enough decisions made for me over the years, that the idea I have lost complete control over my own destiny is smothering.
I have to have control.
But that control can’t come at the expense of me being a bitch to the one person who literally risked his soul to save me. Even if I know, deep down, I can’t give him what he actually wants from me: my heart.