Page 187 of Taken By the Fae

“Creepy,” Skylar mutters. She’s not wrong.

The group of us descend the stairs until we’re at the bottom. Dr. Collins leans over and turns on the light, bathing the room in harsh overhead fluorescence. The room looks the same as the one I found Max in. White floors and walls and glass cabinets against the far wall, filled with vials of blood and other colored liquids that turn my stomach. The counters are metal and there’s a sink in the middle. Off to one side is a row of black filing cabinets, no doubt filled with research and information on the fae, and beside that is a desk covered with stacks of paper and a computer.

Tristan tells the other fae to pack up the computer and files. We’ll take it back to the hotel and go through everything there.

When he tells Dr. Collins to prepare for the transition, my entire body goes rigid. I wrap my arms around him, leaning up to kiss just below his ear. “Are you sure about this?” I whisper.

He turns his face to meet my gaze. “One hundred percent. I want a human life with you, Aurora.”

His words make my heart skip a beat, but the fear still consumes me. “What if it doesn’t work?” Shaking my head, I say, “I can’t lose you.”

“It’s a risk,” he agrees. “There’s a chance it won’t work, but my gut is telling me it will. For you, for me, and for us.”

Anything as important as love is worth the risk.

I take a deep breath and let it out. “Damn it. You better not die.”

Tristan chuckles, leaning in to brush his lips across mine. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.” He leans back, murmuring, “Eighty-seven percent.”

I cling to the success rate of the procedure he’s about to put himself through, recalling how terribly agonizing it is.

“It’s ready.” Dr. Collins’s voice makes my stomach drop and kicks my pulse into overdrive.

“Breathe, Rory,” Tristan murmurs, his lips brushing my ear.

I force myself to take slow breaths until my heartbeat calms, but my nerves are still jumping like a kid on a trampoline.

Skylar walks over to Tristan. “I don’t like this.”

“I’m aware,” he says gently.

Her eyes narrow. “Don’t die.” She lowers her voice. “I can’t lose you, too.”

I swallow my tears and step to the side.

Tristan wraps his arms around her, whispering something before he leans back and kisses her cheek.

“Okay,” he says, taking my hand as we walk toward the table Dr. Collins has set up. “Let’s get this over with.”

Skylar moves with inhuman speed, grabbing the front of the doctor’s shirt and glaring into her eyes. “You will not pull any shady shit or sabotage this procedure. You will do everything in your power to make this work and keep Tristan alive. Understand?” Her manipulation grips Dr. Collins completely, making her back go ramrod straight.

“I understand,” she replies in a monotone voice.

“Good.” Skylar lets her go and moves away from her.

Skylar and I sit on either side of Tristan, holding each of his hands. His security is nearby, but gives us some space. Dr. Collins stands at Tristan’s head, looking over the vials of purple and blue liquid she has on the tray beside her, as well as several syringes lined up next to them. Skylar and I strapped Tristan to the padded table; he could hurt himself or fall off if he thrashes all over the place—and once the process starts, he probably will.

“This will differ from when you underwent the procedure,” Dr. Collins says, looking at me. “With you, we injected each serum one at a time, but according to our research, for a fae-born, because their magic is so attached, the serums must be injected simultaneously.”

Tristan stares hard at the ceiling, and I squeeze his hand, leaning down to kiss his shoulder as Dr. Collins fills two of the syringes—one with the purple mixture and one with the blue.

“This is going to hurt worse than any pain you’ve ever felt,” she warns, bringing the needle toward his neck.

Skylar growls, but she stops to look down at her hand when Tristan grips it tighter.

“Do it,” Tristan says. His tone is deep, harsh.

I keep my eyes on his face as he stares upward. He doesn’t flinch when the needle pierces his skin, but his hand is shaking in mine. “Breathe,” I remind him, just as he’s done for me so many times.

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