Page 48 of Fake Dating a Human 101

Lily must have been moving fast—Mycra couldn’t find her right away. She smelled the changes in the air, followed the trail of warmth and worry. She hoped the human wasn’t vomiting, but it seemed she may have been by the vibrations in the…

Mycra froze by a crystal rock face. She heard Lily’s rhythms again, but something was wrong. The scents bled together with a familiar terror and, though something inside Mycra told her to flee, she leaped around the rock onto a stone path, reaching behind her for her spear.

There rested Lily Baker, collapsed. Her eyes were closed, her flesh was blueing, her breathing was shallow.

“Lily!” Mycra dropped beside the human and shook her shoulders. She turned to scream into the woods, to call for Lily’s allies, but a net of sticky web came over Mycra, and a hand slapped over her mouth.

She thrashed as she was wrangled like an animal, the ropes tightening with every movement. Her spear was torn from her hands, and a dark, icy voice whispered into her ear; one she’d hoped she would never hear again.

“Welcome back, Dreamslipper. You’ve been busy.”

“I’ll destroy you,” she said through his fingers, “if you take me back there.”

A light chuckle followed. “Come Massie. Let’s take our prizes back to Father.”

15

Dranian Evelry

What Followed: Part II

Dranian instantly missed the energy and power that flowed through his veins when he’d been in control of Cress’s gifts. But it was nice to be himself again. Shayne had once told him that all good things come to an end. That must have included unimaginable North power.

Though, he wondered if he might bother Luc for that walnut enchantment recipe. Just in case.

Dranian stared toward the East. He’d never been to the House of Riothin; he’d never imagined he would have a reason to go there, but somewhere beyond the sinking sands and the radish-growing villages, a great castle hosted a vile family who performed dirty practices and loved to murder their foes.

The humans were in trouble. How could Dranian possibly choose between Shayne and their humans? Dranian glanced over his shoulder at Cress and Mor. The two were certainly strong enough to guard their humans on their own, weren’t they? Would anyone really notice if Dranian went after Shayne?

But Shayne had snuck off. Like the first time when he’d not invited Dranian to return to the House of Lyro with him. Now Shayne was going somewhere else, pulling the same tricks for independence, and it put Dranian in a mood.

They’d always done everything together.

“No, Mor.You’retaking me. I’ll not go back with that fox,” Cress announced.

“If Luc takes you, I can carry both females at once. And then one of us can come back for Dranian in a few hours,” Mor returned.

Luc frowned. “You don’t think I can carry two females at once, Trisencor? And why do you think it’s alright to leave Dranian here alone? At least leave his fairy guard with him, and we’ll both come back for them.”

Dranian’s brows furrowed when his observations quickly turned into the realization that the females had vanished. He turned all the way around. Luc spoke of the girl with no name, yet he didn’t mention where she’d run off to. Dranian’s gaze traced her footprints through a spot of mud, and a collection of broken branches at the trees’ edge beyond that. He decided to leave travel arrangements to the loud fairies, and he scampered in the direction he imagined the girl with no name had gone.

His nose wrinkled as soon as he came into the woods. His sharp sense of smell seemed to be punishing him with all sorts of forest-y things. He thought he sniffed trouble in the air.

Three more steps in, he was sure of it. He picked up his pace, running, his faeborn chest lifting to a thudding ruckus as he came to a skidding halt on a tunnel-like path. He slapped a hand over his mouth when he beheld what was there.

A short spear lay upon the rocks. Beside it was a gun.

Dranian’s hands balled into fists as they shook.

16

Luc Zelsor

What Followed: Part III

All bickering nonsense between Mor and Cressica came to an end when a shout lifted from the trees just a fruit’s toss away. Luc’s hand slapped over his pocket where his fox bead was—he wasn’t even sure why. It was the tone of the cry, he supposed.

Anguished. Fierce. Growling.

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