Niamh got through the next few days suffering highs and lows.
“Now, Ms Ryan, thank you for joining me. I’m pleased to advise the hospital plans to formalise your employment with us. Your work has been exemplary, and you’ve only been late once with a notation from your supervisor that it was because of an incident on your way to work. While we can’t condone any form of unofficial absenteeism, you made contact immediately, and we’re prepared to overlook this anomaly so long as this is the only time.”
Mr Garrut smiled, an oily obsequious grin that left a grimy feeling in Niamh’s gut.
“As to the shift you’re working, we have seen fit to change you to the day shift. We need a reliable worker, and—”
Niamh’s breath caught in her throat. “But, Mr Garrut, as Ellen has explained, I have a medical condition that—”
“And we’re willing to overlook that, Ms Ryan. The change of shift will become effective from next Thursday. Now, if that’s all?” It wasn’t really a question, and in the depths of his eyes, she read satisfaction that he’d achieved his own ends. She might want and need to argue, but her position was still precarious. No one could know why she couldn’t work during the day when there were so many others around.
She bit her lip, contained the tears of terror, and rose with a nod, accepting the envelope he handed to her. No doubt it contained all the information he’d just dropped on her.
Exiting the office, she bumped into Ellen. “Well?”
“The job is mine, but, Ellen, they’re changing me to the day shift. What do I do?”
Ellen’s eyes popped. “What? No, that can’t be right.”
She worked long and tiring hours at the hospital. By the time her day off came, she dropped onto the bed into a deep and dreamless sleep. The fear that Ellen wouldn’t be able to argue against the change of shift had been compounded by the number of people moving into the complex, the quiet of the previous status quo having been overlaid with people coming and going. More people meant the greater the chance she’d be seen.
Her gut tied in knots, and food wasn’t welcome with the level of upset she experienced over this decision.
When she woke, she felt wrung out, terrified about what was going to happen, and going out with Simon—Lord of Lycans, she firmly reminded herself—really wasn’t ranking highly in the pleasurable stakes.
He commanded weres, had now requested her presence. She’d honour the tradition of “walking beside them along the earth softly” and prepare.
“I won’t wear my flower gown,” she told herself, instead choosing a light sundress, which she paired with a deceptively lightweight cardigan. It would hide her wings, but she could divest herself of it once they reached the woodlands. She placed her circlet into a small muslin bag and slid it into the backpack she’d carry.
She simply brushed her hair until it shone. Then Niamh settled in to wait for him.
At four on the dot came the rap, firm and manly. Just like him.
Without considering, she swung the bag over her shoulder and answered the door. He was dressed in casual jeans and a polo that moulded to his physique.
Her mouth dried.
“Come with me, Niamh,” he said, eyes wolfish as he held out his hand to her.
She took it, knowing hers trembled with the strength of emotions she wished she could suppress. Lust wasn’t an unknown quantity to her. Many fairies partook of sexual experiences, treating them as a necessity of life. She hadn’t. Something had told her to wait. So she had. Trusting her innermost intuition had seen her through life. Well, mostly.
You didn’t see your banishment coming, did you?
“No, I didn’t,” she muttered.
“Everything all right, Niamh?” His voice broke through her introspection, and she jumped.
“What? Oh yes. Just thinking out loud.”
He led her down to a hulking tank of a car, and she read the badge. Oh yes, very masculine and point making. Suited to the alpha.
She climbed in once he opened the door, settling herself while he made his way around to the other side. “Seat belt?”
She blinked. “Oh yes.” She fastened it on herself.
He started the car, and she realised he was silent. Would he think it odd? Her rude?
Once they were moving away from town, he cleared his throat. “Something’s bothering you. You’re distracted.”
“Just work things,” she said, hoping he’d leave the subject alone.
“Anything I can do to assist?”
Niamh turned towards him. “Not unless you have pull with the hospital’s HR division. They’re changing my shift. To daytime.”
When his brow furrowed with confusion, she sighed.
“I work at night because there’s so few people around. I’m less likely to be exposed, but I finished my trial and they put me on full time, on the understanding that I’d work night shifts only on account of a ‘medical issue.’” She made the air quotes and glanced at the passing scenery. “Lots more people and a greater chance I’ll be found out. Ellen, my supervisor, has been trying to get them to change their minds, but they’re adamant. So unless I can find another job, I’m stuck with days.”
That reality scared the living daylights out of her. She’d grown up listening to the cautionary tales of fairies discovered and what happened to them. Times might have been more enlightened now, and vampires were openly walking around, but fairies continued to maintain their anonymity because they were weaker, not fighters or warriors, and couldn’t protect their own.
“Would you prefer to work elsewhere?” he asked.
“Yes, I wish I could work somewhere else. I’d take just about anything in a heartbeat.”
He reached out, placed a hand on hers. “You’re really terrified, aren’t you, Niamh?”
She nodded as tears pricked her eyes. “But I don’t know what else I can do or even how. Ellen arranged my green card when Mam told me I was to leave home.”
“Why was that?”
She curled into herself. “Please, I’m not sure I can talk about it.”
He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Okay, perhaps someday you’ll tell me, when you’re ready. How soon do you have to start the new shifts?”
“Thursday.”
He grunted. “I know people. Leave it with me, and I’ll see what can be done.”
Niamh whirled in her seat. “I… You don’t have to. I know I’m not your responsibility.”
“I do it because I care, Niamh. Let me see what I can do, okay?”
The pressure in her chest lifted a little, and she sank back into the seat. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Simon,” he corrected.
“But you’re—”
“Simon.”
She smiled a little at the ferocity in his voice. “All right, then, Simon.”