Page 114 of Taken By the Fae

With a nod, Deacon hops over the bar and disappears down the hallway. A door closes a few seconds later, and I let out a sigh before walking around the bar and snatching a full bottle from the shelf without looking to see what it is. It doesn’t matter.

I kick a few of the stools away and sit on the floor, my back against the wood of the bar. I hug the bottle, glancing down to see that it’s tequila before I crack it open and take a long drink, cringing as it ignites a path of warmth from my tongue to my belly. It isn’t until I’ve polished off a quarter of the bottle that I realize I’m buzzed—and crying. The tears roll down my cheeks as my shoulders shake.

I can’t fucking do this. I don’twantto.

I clench my jaw, hauling myself off the floor before I scream, choking on a sob and throwing the bottle against the faux brick wall. It shatters, glass and liquor covering the old wood floor. A floor that’s likely seen many spills, but probably few intentional ones. I should clean it up before it ruins the wood.Fuck.Why do I give a shit about the damn floor?

My head whips around at the sound of another heartbeat close by. Nikolai leans in the doorway across the room with his arms folded over his chest.

“Feel better?” he asks.

I narrow my eyes, ready to snap, but all that comes out is, “No.” My voice is broken, and I’m still angry. Angry that I can’t control my body, angry that what was supposed to be a great opportunity for post-grad job leads has been shadowed by it.

Now that I’m not surrounded by humans, I’m left to tread in my own emotions. It should make me feel better, but the dark, heavy combination of everything whipping through me is less than pleasant. I’d much rather feel nothing.

Nikolai uncrosses his arms and approaches. His vibrant green gaze is steady, and his heartbeat is calm. I wish I could say the same for mine; it’s attempting to break through my rib cage.

“Aurora.” His voice is soft like velvet. It should be soothing, but it flips a switch in me and I snap. My arm swings out, but he grabs my hand before it can connect with anything. I growl and swing with the other. He catches that one as well and holds them both in his, all the while continuing to murmur words of understanding until I stop trying to attack him. My chest is heaving, and my mouth is dry as I catch my breath and finally settle down. I’m still crying; I can’t make it stop.

“You’re okay,” Nikolai says.

I shake my head and try to disagree, but no words come out. I don’t even have the energy to fight him, plus my head is still swimming. Pretty sure I can thank the tequila for that.

Once he’s sure I won’t attack again, he releases my hands, and I let them fall to my sides.

“We’ll clean up the mess later,” Nikolai says. “I think you and I should have a chat.”

* * *

Turns out, Nikolai lives in the loft above the pub. He unlocks the door, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him. I hesitate in the hallway, waiting for alarm bells to blare in my head about the potential danger of being up here with Nikolai alone. But then I consider everything he’s done for me since I became fae; he hasn’t given me a reason not to trust him. Besides, as bad as it sounds, I’m finding it really difficult to care whether this is safe, so I step inside and look around.

There’s a small, simple kitchen right off the entryway with stainless-steel appliances, faux marble countertop, and white cupboards. I can’t picture Nikolai preparing meals for himself, but the dishes in the sink displace my assumption that he doesn’t cook.

The kitchen island and seating area open into the living room, an open concept design that makes the place feel modern and large. There’s a flat-screen television and an L-shaped couch with a dark wood coffee and matching side table. It’s very simple and impersonal. It’s the complete opposite of what I’d picture for Nikolai.

He stands in the kitchen and brews a pot of coffee, pouring us each a mug before joining me in the living room and settling onto the couch.

“What do you want to talk about?” I ask.

He takes a sip before setting his mug on the coffee table, then turns to look at me. “Let's start at the beginning.”

I arch a brow, sipping on my own coffee. “As in the night I was taken by the fae?”

“Why don’t we start with the night you killed Jules?” The suggestion is gentle, but that doesn’t make the thought of talking about it easier. I haven’t spoken to anyone about it, and the idea of opening up to Nikolai, someone who knew Jules—hell, the fae who took over his position in the unseelie court—feels wrong.

I wet my lips. “How do I know I can trust you?” Not sure why I’m bothering to ask now, but the words leave my lips nonetheless.

His smile is faint. “Are you sure you’d like me to answer that?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

“There have been ninety-seven optimal opportunities for me to take you out since you killed Jules.”

My eyes widen. “What the hell?”

“There’s a reason the queen chose me to take over Jules’s position.”

I frown from behind my mug as I take another sip. “You could kill me right now,” I mutter rather pointlessly. I think it’s fairly obvious.

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