Page 132 of Taken By the Fae

He lets out a breath and thrusts a hand through his hair. “I fucking miss you, Rory.”

I miss you.The words scream loud in my head, but I can’t force them past my lips. Not because it’s a lie—it’s the hardest truth I know—but because I’m still so scared. I’ve never been so out of my element, and with the added layer of complication courtesy of the fae courts, I feel like I’m drowning. My thoughts jump back to the conversation I had with my mom over the weekend.

Anything as important as love is worth the risk.

I set my glass beside Tristan’s and stand, mainly so I won’t throw myself over the table and into his lap. At this moment, I want nothing more than to give in to the pounding of my heart against my rib cage. Even with the time that’s passed,I knowwhat wrapping myself in Tristan’s arms would feel like.Home.

“I came over because I found out something about my lineage.” What I’m about to tell him—not knowing how he’ll react—has made my entire body tense.

He wets his lips, his eyes focused on my face. “I’m listening.”

I blow out a breath. “My head has been spinning since I found out.” I pull the paper out of my back pocket, unfolding it before I hold it out to him.

He glances at my face before looking at the paper, taking it from me.

I hold my breath, watching his eyes scan across the page. His posture stiffens; he’s seen it. “Aurora…” His voice is low, rough. The shield he keeps on his emotions snaps, and I’m whipped in the face with his red-hot anger. My cheeks burn, and I cringe, wanting to move away from him. His rage is like a vise around my throat. It’s not cutting off my oxygen, but the sensation is dizzying.

“Tristan,” I say in a firm voice.

His eyes lift to mine and he swallows hard, pulling his emotions back, getting them under control as he stands. “I’m sorry I didn’t find any record of this when I looked before. Most of my sources were seelie, but I made several inquiries in the unseelie court and came up with nothing.”

I shrug, because in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter at this point. “It’s not your fault my great-great-great-etc. grandfather turned out to be the psychotic unseelie knight determined to take you down.” There’s a twinge of sarcasm in my words, but they still feel heavy.

“He was your blood and he still was determined to use you against me,” he whispers, disbelief making his voice low and breathy.

“That’s assuming he knew we were…family.” The last word tastes bitter on my tongue. “It’s kind of irrelevant now, anyway.”

Tristan nods tightly, then growls, “That son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, well, he got his.”

Tristan frowns. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I don’t—What do you need, Rory?”

You. That one tiny word is on the tip of my tongue—so I press my lips together and stay silent.

He exhales a heavy sigh. “I’m glad you’re here. I was going to contact you before I got your text.”

I can’t help it. The butterflies that have been rather dormant in my stomach lately give a subtle flutter. “Oh?”

“I met with Rowan earlier today.”

My stomach drops, obliterating the butterflies. “What did he want?”

He rubs at the stubble along his jaw, and I suddenly wish we were still sitting. “As expected, he wanted to know about you. How things went down with Jules and how you triggered the fae magic in you.”

“Did you tell him I won’t choose a court?”

Tristan nods. “To my surprise, he was impressed.”

My eyes pop wide. “Really? Why? I would’ve thought he’d be angry that I don’t want to align myself with him.”

“Don’t take this personally, but Rowan has plenty of other things to worry about aside from recruiting my…” He trails off, his cheeks turning pink, and I nearly rock back on my heels. Tristan Westbrook isblushing. He clears his throat. “He understands you’re important to me. His focus is on the war with the unseelie court and the growing number of fae who are disappearing from both courts as we continue to fight one another.”

“Right,” I say, my heart beating faster as my eyes remain locked on his. I get lost in their stunning depths and feel a pull toward him. The urge, the near-carnal desire to close the distance between us nearly takes over. My throat goes dry as my palms dampen, and I can’t ignore the way my breasts tingle or the heat gathering between my legs. But when Tristan steps closer, I shake my head. “I should go. I just came to tell you what I found. I’m, uh, glad the audience with the king went okay.”

Without another word, I head for the door, praying Tristan doesn’t ask me to stay.Would I?I can feel him standing behind me as I wait for the elevator.

Once it arrives and I get on, I turn to face Tristan where he’s standing in the hallway watching me. Our eyes meet, and I have to grab the railing to keep myself from getting off and wrapping my arms around him.

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