Knowing I looked like an awestruck kid did nothing to stop my gawking. I had never met a full Fae. The stories, the descriptions, the tales—they were all true. I wanted to both reach over to touch him and take out my phone to photograph him. It wouldn’t work on him, though. Fae don’t enjoy having their photos taken, and electronics tend to go haywire around them.
The paper ball disappeared in a sudden flame, leaving nothing behind to mar his palm, not even ash. His fingers were long and elegant, but I had no doubt they could wield a weapon and decapitate someone with no trouble.
“Hmm,” he said. I stared at his lips as they widened into a full smile. He had a bit of a vampire fang thing going with his canines. “Hello, cousin,” he added in a smooth, deep, velvety voice made to enthrall maidens and lure them into the sea. Wait, what?
I jerked my gaze to Aidan. He was scowling—nothing new there—and looking a little more morose than usual.
“Cousin?” I looked from one to the other. The Fae winked at me, but I was too busy comparing them to register it.
“Very, very distant cousin,” Aidan said.
They looked nothing anything alike, except perhaps for their hands, and yet they felt so similar. “You could be brothers,” I said in awe. Just how much of a Fae was Aidan?
“What?” they asked at the same time, looking at me like I was some kind of bizarre insect.
“It’s true,” I assured them.
The Fae came closer, and I instinctively leaned away. Fae, beautiful but tricky.
He reached out, his hand coming tantalizingly close to my cheek. “Who is your lovely friend, cousin?”
“Don’t touch me if you want to keep your hand,” I blurted, pushing the chair back.
His grin widened. “Feisty, I like it.”
Aidan murmured something that sounded astoundingly close to more like stupid before raising his voice. “Maddie, show him the ball.”
“What? No!” Lightning-fast, I dropped the ball inside my t-shirt.
“What the hell?” Aidan said.
“It’s mine,” I said, covering the bump at my waist with my hands.
“I didn’t tell you to give it to him.”
“What’s this about balls?” the Fae asked, all innocence except for the amused gleam in his eyes.
Aidan came over to loom over me across the desk. “Show it to him.”
“No.”
When his scary glare didn’t work, and he would never know how close it came to working, he tried for a reasonable tone. “He may know what it is. Be reasonable.”
I glanced at the Fae. His expression might as well have spelled glee. “It’s a ball,” I told him sullenly. He nodded, arched his brows as if willing me to continue. So I did. “It looks like a blood-shot metal eye. But green.”
“I see.” He tapped his mouth in deep concentration. “That does take the shine out of dealing with balls, doesn’t it? Who wants to go looking and find an eye?”
“Ren,” warned Aidan.
“Don’t listen to him, lovely.” Ren planted both hands on the table and pinned me with his gaze. Damn, those were beautiful eyes. The kind of golden hue and brightness contact makers would give a kidney and their firstborn to achieve. “He’s a bit of a bore. But don’t worry,” he added in a conspiratorial tone, “you’re in good hands. He might seem all about balls right now, but he’s actually more into donuts.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, fascinated. “Maybe he’s low-carb or something.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” he said knowingly. “Prefers them all glazed and—”
“Enough,” Aidan snapped. The chill in his tone cut the easy atmosphere between me and Ren. His arms were folded tightly over his chest, all coiled power, and his eyes radiated anger. With some chagrin, I remembered the hound, the binding, and the close call we’d had in the elevator. The reminder put, if not a full lid, a damper on my mood. To Ren, he said, “I need your help.”
For some strange reason, I felt a wave of relief when he didn’t include me in the need for help. Like the coward that I was, I was profoundly thankful Aidan was making clear this possible deal between them only included him. Ren returned his attention to Aidan and crossed his arms, mirroring his posture. The whole alike-but-not-really thing between these two was uncanny.
“Tell me, cousin.”
“I need to fool a binding spell.”
“Between?”
Aidan uncoiled an arm to point between us. “Her and me.”
Ren studied him closely, then inspected me. Not in a leering way, for which I was also profoundly thankful, but with some mischief still dancing in his eyes. “Want me to take his spot?” he asked of me.
I shook my head. “No.” God, no. Being bound to Aidan was proving to be an experience, but being bound to a Fae would fall nothing short of a full-fledged nightmare.
He turned to Aidan. “Want me to take her spot?”
“Christ, no.” The horror in his voice almost made me laugh.
“Well, then, what do you expect me to do?” Ren asked.
“I want you to help me change the terms. Turn the physical bond into a promise.”
Ren tilted his head side to side, apparently bouncing the idea inside his head. “It could be done, I suppose.”
“I know.”
“But it’ll come at a cost.”
Aidan grunted. “Imagine that.”
“Are you ready to pay it?”
“Depends on what the cost is.” Aidan’s gaze fell on me and my raised hand. “What is it?”
I cleared my throat. “Well, erm, can’t he just break the binding instead of changing it?”
“Can he, indeed?” Ren flashed me another smile. “Will you give me the ball if I do so?”
“No,” I said.
“And what about the donut?”
“Focus,” Aidan barked. My face felt on fire.
“Eh,” Ren said, shrugging him off. “Where were we? Ah, yes. Breaking a spell is a dangerous thing. We don’t know how it will react or what it’ll take from all of us. I think it’s better to let it run its course or, as my cousin suggests, trick it and transform it into something else.”
I nodded, saving all this information in my head to be written down later. Most of my friends had no idea about the inner workings of powerful Fae spells other than “stay away from them.” Kane was the one who knew the most, and his expertise was on artifacts, not spells.
“Besides,” Ren said with a wicked edge to his voice, “what would be the fun in breaking it?”
Fae to the bone. I almost wanted to give him two thumbs up.
“Will you help us?” Aidan demanded in his usual glacial tones. Not can, but will.
“I will.”
“And the payment?” Aidan sounded wary now.
“I’m sure we can think of something later when you’re done with all this.” Ren waved lazily at the table and my person. “You accept?”
Aidan mulled this, his fingers tapping against his side. It didn’t take him long to come to a decision. “I accept.”
Now I really wanted to give him a thumbs up. “How do we do this?” I asked eagerly. To watch a Fae do magic…now, that was a rare sight. And I intended to soak up every part of it.
“Hold hands,” Ren instructed.
I abandoned the chair and hurried around the desk. Once again, I was pleasantly surprised by the enveloping warmth when Aidan’s hand closed over mine. I wasn’t a stranger to holding hands or anything, but this felt nice in the way my skin became so aware of his touch. Very nice.
“Your fingers are like ice,” Aidan muttered.
“Really?” I asked, covering our linked hands with my free one.
He narrowed his eyes. I grinned.
“Now, my lovely,” Ren said, looking at me, “can you keep your promises?”
Aidan snorted. I elbowed him hard. “Of course.” I was actually amazing at keeping my promises—something I was very proud of. The trick was to avoid promising anything. Aidan was right when comparing bindings and promises—they shared the same fundamental premise in the world of Fae. For humans, breaking a promise was only a big deal if your moral compass called for it, but for Fae, whose whole being and morals were tied up in the laws of give and take, promises were simply another exchange. You couldn’t trust a Fae, and you should definitely read the small print if they promised something, but their word was golden.
“Very well,” Ren said and held our hands between his. Tingling spread through my fingers, along my hand and up my arm, as if a thousand tiny needles were trying to drill my skin. I shuddered, tamping down the urge to shake my hand free.
“And by the way,” Ren continued in a soft tone, almost humming to himself, “there are several Eyes out there. Powerful things, these Eyes. Can never be sure of what they’ll claim when you bring their power forth.”
If he was trying to scare me into giving him the ball, he was making a poor job of it, because now I was a hundred times more intrigued by what it might do. Would it show me the future in exchange for the memory of a loved one? Shoot a beam of magic in exchange for a tooth? I should ask Kane about Eyes before contacting the Jerk and exchanging the artifact for a job. Who knew, perhaps he’d give me the job of researching the ball.
But probably not. He was, after all, the Jerk.
And speaking of jerks, what was I doing? “Wait, wait, wait,” I said, realizing I had asked way too few questions. Big mistake, when dealing with a Fae. “What kind of promise are we making?” I tried to wrench my hand free, but the nice warmth of Aidan’s hand had turned into a prison.
Aidan tightened his grip. “It doesn’t matter.”
Since it did, and they weren’t waiting, I kicked Aidan in the shin. He yelped, and I yanked my hand free. The tingling along my arms increased for a second, as if in outrage, before going away. I rubbed the sleeves of my sweatshirt. Ren scowled down at Aidan’s hand still held between his, his lips pressed in a pout. As for Aidan, he was looking at me like he didn’t believe his eyes.
“I’m not making a promise until I know what kind of promise it is,” I told him defensively, cradling my hand to my chest.
“It doesn’t matter!” he snapped. “We can do whatever kind of promise we want.”
“Terms first,” I demanded.
“Well, this has been very entertaining, but it’s time for me to go.” Ren beamed at us like a proud parent. “Let us catch up some other time, my lovely. Cousin, you only need to seal the promise.”
He vanished.
We stared at the spot he had been occupying a second earlier, too surprised to react.
“Where did he go?” I finally asked. “Did he finish changing the binding?”
Adan flexed his hand. “I’m not sure. I think some of it.”
“He said something about sealing a promise. How can we—” A sudden wave of dread slammed into me. My heart stuttered then began racing with a vengeance. Sweat dampened the back of my t-shirt. In the blink of an eye, the room darkened until we were in a cave, not a basement office. Under our feet, darkness spread.
“Shit,” Aidan said.
The hound was back.