Page 43 of Caging Darling

It’s not as if I expect to kill her. I just want to make one mark on this world before she takes me out of it.

As I dig my fingernails into her skin, I wait for her to throw me off of her. To smash me over the head with her fae strength. But Tink doesn’t fight back. She doesn’t even grasp at my fingers and attempt to pry them off. Instead, she fumbles through a makeshift pocket in the burlap sack she’s using as a tunic. Then she presses something wooden to the back of my hand. Another tile, face up.

“STOP.”

I laugh. “You think I’m going to stop? After what you did to my brother? After you strung him up in that tree like meat you’re trying to keep from other predators?”

Something in Tink snaps, because she grabs me by the throat and throws me off of her. My back and head hit the cave wall. Stars swim across my vision as I slump to the floor. I barely have the mind to lift my head up, to watch the harbinger of my death approach, but I manage it.

She really does look lethal, the way she’s stalking toward me.

I offer her my cruelest smile as she kneels down in front of me, places her hand underneath my chin and lifts it to look at her.

I ready myself for the snapping of my neck. The ending of this terrible story and its chapters I no longer wish to keep reading.

But tears are streaming down Tink’s cheeks, and they’re not the angry sort. Pity swells in her blue eyes as she stares into mine. Or maybe it’s the memory of John staring back at her.

These faeries really do love the humans they keep as pets. They’re like toddlers, playing too roughly with a kitten until the kitten dies and the parents have to explain why the kitten no longer moves.

My vision fades to black, and when I wake hours later, the sunlight is gone, and so is Tink.

CHAPTER 15

Ifrown, confusion washing over me even as my vision returns. I’m on the floor of the cave, propped up against the wall. Peter’s crouching before me, running his thumb over my Mating Mark.

“What happened, my Darling little thing?”

Instinct more than reason has me choking out a lie. “I must have gotten dizzy and fallen.”

Peter examines me. At first, I have little hope that the lie will land, but as my senses return to me, I remember that Tink didn’t lay a hand on me to injure me.

“You were probably dehydrated. I didn’t give you anything during our flight, then didn’t think about it when we got back home.”

I hate how he thinks I’m a child who needs reminding when to drink water. I also hate that he’s right. Groaning, I offer him a lazy, half-hearted smile. “I won’t be making that mistake again.”

Peter doesn’t smile back. My gut tenses.

“Wendy Darling.” His eyes are shimmering. “What were you doing wandering down here?”

I shake my head, feeling the back of my skull roll against the cave wall. “Just that. Wandering. You know me—I have to move to clear my head.”

I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. Peter’s eyes flash. It’s there one minute and gone the next, but there’s no mistaking the realization he’s just made.

My counterfeit Mate chooses his next words carefully. “How long does it take for a walk to clear your head?”

I shrug, but it’s too exaggerated. Too casual to be real. “It doesn’t do as much as I want it to, to be honest. It just makes me feel like I’m doing something.”

Peter stares at me.

Fear lances through my gut. “What?”

“Simon used to say he was going on walks to clear his head.”

I let out a dismissing huff. “Yes, well, Simon wasn’t being personally dosed with faerie dust by you.” It comes out wrong, too resentful. Peter shifts on his feet, then slowly stands to his full height. When he stretches out his hand, I’ve no choice but to take it. My muscles scream in protest as he pulls me to my feet, then into his chest, his hands splayed against my back, stroking me possessively.

“You know I only want what’s best for you.”

Don’t cry. Don’t let the tears spill onto his chest. Don’t let them give you away.

---