Page 19 of Fairies Never Fall

He grins. “Fairies are hot. Let’s face it, we all like looking at their pretty faces and pretty colors.”

Uncharacteristic irritation sizzles up my spine at the thought of everyone in this room objectifying Lysander. I huff into my soda. “It’s not like that.”

It definitely is, though, and Orion’s knowing look makes it clear he’s onto me.

I should’ve faced Lysander straight on instead of sending Plato over with his drinks, but nerves got the better of me. He’s gorgeous, ethereal, and fascinating, whereas I’m what peoplemight charitably call ‘a loser’ — and I’ve been flirting with him like he’s just a regular dude.

On stage, the giant, leather-clad monster they called Bear shows the crowd a hank of deep, bloody red rope and they cheer. It’s at this point I remember this is a bondage show, and the delicate fairy who’s kneeling out of sight is about to get tied up like a pretzel.

I grip the cool glass in front of me. I amnotgoing to spring a boner at a kink night — I’m twenty four, for fuck’s sake, not eighteen.

Lysander stands again as the lights dim and the spotlight comes on. I gulp. His skintight costume hides nothing. Not only does it cling to his slim shape like lycra, but the cutouts leave reams of skin exposed. I’m getting a full, potent blast of his effect. But from the sound of the audience, so is everyone else, and that sobers me.

Bear pulls on a pair of heavy duty gloves and turns Lysander around firmly. I’ve seen a lot of monsters in my last few shifts, and my brain is slowly adjusting, but I haven’t seen anyone like the guy on stage. He’s bigger and broader than any human, dressed in leather pants and a leather vest that reveals scaly muscle. His face is distinctlynot human,never mind the horns, the teeth, and the thick, powerful tail. He looks like he’s five seconds away from sprouting wings and breathing fire. In contrast Lysander is slender, no taller than me — almost a foot shorter than Bear — with delicate-looking wings and smooth, gleaming skin.

The difference between them is startling. It obviously makes the show popular, because the club is packed.

The ropes slowly weave in intimate patterns around his limbs, the dark red standing out starkly on his pale green skin. Bear doesn’t shift from his spot beside the mat as he works, gently moving Lysander where he wants him. Lysander is pliant.There’s not a single drop of the haughty attitude he put on the first couple times I met him.

The longer it goes on, the hotter it makes me inside.

Finally Bear reaches for the clip, and with one powerful hand he lifts Lysander to his toes and snaps the clip onto his harness. Lysander is slowly lifted off the ground, exposing Bear’s work. Knowing nothing, it’s obviously pretty impressive. Even his wings are tied. The bondage spreads them wide, showing off their full glory. His legs are bent with his toes pointed toward the back of his head, his arms arranged to either side, and there’s a rope pulling his long hair up, making it seem like it’s blowing in the wind.

What hits me hardest is the look on his face, though. There’s no mistaking the bliss. The peacefulness. My nerves flutter. Jolts of adrenaline rush down my arms. I need to look away, but my eyes are glued to the scene. I’m not getting a hard-on — nope. What I’ve got is undeniably worse.

I have a goddamn crush.

When the show’s over, I do what I do best — compartmentalize. I’ve only just learned about the existence of monsters, and I don’t need to add complication to my life. For all I know, this could be some kind of physiological reactioneveryonegets around fairies.

Besides, what would I possibly say?Hey, I like the way you get all flustered when I tease you, wanna get to know each other?Do monsters go on dates? Would he go on a date with a human for that matter?

Yeah. That all sounds pretty implausible.

“So what’s a guy — uh, a fairy — like Lysander doing living at The Sanctum?” I ask Orion as the crowd disperses and we make our way back to the bar.

What? Just because I’m compartmentalizing doesn’t mean I’m not curious.

Orion raises two shadowy eyebrows. “Syril didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“He’s the prince of wildlings. He’s here cause his whole family’s dead or missing, and he’s being hunted by a creepy undead cult.”

My jaw drops. “Holy shit.”

Orion pats me on the shoulder. “Be nice to him. He’s been in hiding his whole life, so he’s a little… sheltered.”

I cast around for something else to say besidesholy shit. “I keep hearing that word — wildling. What does it mean? Or is that monster business.”

“Nah. I forget you’ve only been wearing that thing for a week.” Orion jerks his chin at the amulet around my neck. “Wildlings are one of the four kingdoms. They might look cute and shy, but don’t underestimate them. Lilian is one, and technically Syril’s half, too.”

“Does that mean one of Syril’s parents is a dryad, and the other is, what, a shade?” I swear I catch Orion emitting sparks occasionally, so I wonder how wise that pairing would be.

“Presumably.” Orion shrugs. “But you don’t ask about someone’s parentage, y’know? That’d be rude.”

“Noted.” I make a zipping motion over my lips. “What about the other kingdoms?”

“There’s stoneskins — that’s Plato’s kind, even though he’s soft inside and out. They’re ruled by the dragon king. Third is waterspirits, although they’re pretty uncommon except for the nymphs. Last but definitely not least are the shadowfey.My peeps.” He jerks a thumb at his chest. “Our guy is King Hellebore. He’s a shade like me.”

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