Page 123 of A Song of Air
“How unfair a life when a murderer finds his mate above all others,” Gwyn lamented, sighing against her skin. “Did you know that, little Fae? Did you know your mate is a murderer?”
“She must know,” Glyn volleyed back. “If she does not, then she is a fool.”
“Maybe she is a fool, Glyn. Only a fool would fall in a mushroom circle.”
Her head spun as it tried to keep up with the conversation. She grasped at the first thing she could with trembling fingers, one of the twin’s shirtfronts, while her mind spun. “I didn’t fall in,” she defended. Her tongue was starting to feel heavy. “I was pushed.”
“Oh, our apologies, little Fae.”
Hands slid over her thighs, over the spiderweb material of the shimmering skirt. The hem lifted, exposing more of her than she wanted them to see. She jerked against them, slapping their hands as if that could shove away their wandering fingers.
“Oh, do not be so prude, little Fae.” Gwyn laughed against her shoulder. “You know Gwyn and I like to share our lovers. Weylyn owes us. He should share you, too.”
“He owes us a great deal, he does,” Glyn confirmed. “We would only be taking what we are owed. Would you like to know what he owes us?”
“It would cost you, of course.”
“A price. Everything always comes with a price.”
Her head lolled a bit to the side. It was on the tip of her tongue to agree. Her entire body felt loose and agreeable, but at the last moment, something in her skidded to a halt and she remembered just where she was and who they were.
Never make a deal with an Unseelie Fae.
Those were the rules. And whatever dust they were sprinkling against her nose was giving the effect of forgetfulness. She wanted to throw caution to the wind. She wanted to tell them everything, and she wanted them to give her every secret in return.
No.
She couldn’t.
It was dangerous.
She shoved at the chest of one of the twins weakly. “Let me go,” she slurred.
“What if we do not want to let you go?”
“What if we want to keep you for ourselves?”
“What if we want to kill you the same way Weylyn killed her?”
“No one would stop us, you know.”
“No one.”
“You’re all alone, little Fae.”
“So alone.”
“Blind and alone.”
“Ours to toy with.”
“Ours to torture.”
“Hehehehe. You are ours now, little Fae. Come, let us play.”
Hands grabbed her from all sides, and she tried to shove them away. Tried to drown out the taunting voices, but they only echoed inside her skull, creating a loud pounding that made her temples throb. She wanted to drop to her knees and scream. She wanted to choke. She wanted to disappear.
Weylyn.
