Page 117 of Taken By the Fae

“Like you’re some expert?”

Darkness clouds the bright green of his eyes, and I suddenly wish I hadn’t spoken. His lips turn down and a soft sigh escapes his lips. “Aurora, I’ve done a lot of living in my life, but like you, I’ve also done a lot of surviving. I’m sure it will surprise you to know that I wasn’t always this awesome.” He exhales a laugh, shaking his head. “I think that’s a story for another time.”

ChapterThirty-Four

After chatting with Nikolai yesterday, I have a new sense of optimism. I’m going to figure out how to be fae. It won’t be easy, but I’ve always thrived when presented with a challenge, and I refuse to let this be any different.

With this newfound resolve to figure things out, I can’t help but think about what this could mean for me and Tristan. Maybe once I feel better, more like myself again, we can reconnect. My stomach drops when one invasive thought takes hold. I may have forsaken the courts, but Tristan is very much aligned with the seelies. I couldn’t see the seelie king accepting us when Ianswered to the unseelie court, but I have absolutely no idea how he’d view one of his knights—his favorite—being with a fae who refused both courts. Will it matter?

I’m spinning out at my desk in the dorm when a knock sounds at the door. Allison’s in class, so I get up and open it to find Nikolai standing on the other side, looking like a model ready for a photo shoot. His hair is tousled—no doubt styled that way—and the dark, form-fitting leather jacket brings the whole James Dean look he’s got going on to another level of attractive.

“Hi…”

Nikolai struts inside as if he owns the place.

“Uh, sure,” I grumble, “come on in.” I close the door and turn as Nikolai drops onto the end of my bed.

He grins, flashing his stupid, perfect teeth. “Ready to learn how to feed?”

“Can’t wait,” I remark dryly. There’s a part of me that longs to get this shitty learning stage over with. To feel better—not as if I’m nearing my deathbed at twenty-one years old—which is why I’ve agreed to let Nikolai teach me today.

“You’re in excellent hands,” he praises himself. “I’m awesome at this.” Recalling him feeding off the crowd at the pub gives me a bit more faith in his words, but his excessive enthusiasm makes me want to call the whole thing off right now. “Let’s get out of here. I’m starving, and there’s this café nearby I’ve recently become obsessed with. We can talk strategy before trying anything.”

I’m not sure whatstrategyentails, but I nod. “I’ll go get changed.”

His eyes flick to my less than modest sleepwear. “I mean,Ihave no issue with your attire, but the rest of the public might stare.”

I flip him off and walk into the bathroom. After changing into thick leggings and a comfortable sweater, I return to the bedroom.

“All set?” he asks.

I blow out a breath. “I guess so.” My optimism from earlier is fading, replaced by skepticism and nerves.

He shifts, appearing right in front of me, and grabs my arms before I can step back. “If you believe you’re going to fail, you will.” His dark lashes lower. “You want to get better, right?”

My eyes fly to his. “Of course, I do.”

His hands slide down my arms and drop away. “Good.”

When he starts toward the front door, I sigh. “Nikolai, I need you to glamour my appearance. Allison’s been doing it because—”

“Because you can’t if you don’t feed,” he interjects, turning back to me. In a matter of seconds, he conceals my pointed ears, glowing eyes, and blue tinted skin before stepping back. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

Sitting across from Nikolai in a café isn’t as weird as I thought it would be. That’s not to say I ever thought it would happen, because until the night at The Iron Lounge, I didn’t think I’d see him again.

Over the years I’ve gone to school in the city, I’ve never been to this coffee shop. I take in the sleek, modern decor. The worn oak table we’re sitting at has wrought-iron chairs with plush cushions. I make a point not to touch the chair with anything but my ass on the padded seat for fear of iron burn. The floor is clean, shiny white tile and the walls are a light gray. The front is made of windows, letting in the natural light; the whole place has a pleasing aesthetic. I understand why Nikolai enjoys coming here. Breakfast food has always been my favorite. There’s never a wrong time to eat it—except when you feel as if you’ll hurl if you eat anything.

Nikolai orders us some coffee, while I slip into the bathroom near the back of the café to splash cold water on my face, willing the nausea rolling around my stomach to recede. When I return to our table, he’s fully engrossed in the menu. My eyes flick over it, but most of the selection makes me want to gag right now.

“You look like you’re about to vomit,” Nikolai comments, peering at me over his menu.

I don’t even have the energy to fake a smile. “I feel that way, too.”

His brows tug closer. “It could be—Wait. You and Westbrook. Did you…?”

My eyes narrow. “I’m not pregnant,” I whisper-yell. “God, Nikolai.” I huff out a scowl. “Can fae even get humans pregnant?”

---