Page 11 of The Sweetest Lies
They never would have attacked her if she hadn’t brought me over to their group. They’d accept her if it wasn’t for me.
They’re right.
I don’t belong here.
But that won’t stop me from trying to protect her.
As well as the hell fae who hate me.
Five
Primal Needs
Days pass,and each time I see Nyra, she’s shadowed by Vanitee. The two of them whisper and smile sweetly together in the dining room. As for me, I keep my distance as I stand among them all. I keep my space. And my exhaustion.
Because for the past five nights, I’ve been beneath Goddess Moon praying to lure out the wolf inside of me. I need it if I’m going to stand my ground against a Night Witch. Tonight, in just about an hour, after everyone else is busy with their own rejoicing outside, I’ll be hidden in the shadows of the tallest tower this castle has.
It feels good to be closer. The higher, the better. I want to feel the shine of the light of the moon and taste the breeze. Or... whatever it is that gets shifters so damn excited about the night life.
“It’s rude to stare,” A soft, boyish voice whispers along the back of my neck.
With a startle I pivot to face the sweet voice.
Avian’s gentle gaze meets mine, and I wish he could see all the messy emotions on my face tonight. He can’t. But that doesn’t seem to stop him from always knowing my thoughts.
“I wasn’t,” I tell him.
He cocks a dark eyebrow so high, it meets the soft strands of hair hanging loosely against his forehead from his braid.
“I’ve heard some hushed gossip about the shifter bitch’s annoying sister.”
My mouth falls wide open. “My sister isn’t annoying!”
A small smile creases his features, and that distracting dimple of his makes its grand appearance.
“From what I gather, you’re the annoying one in that scenario, Cers.”
“What!”
He’s mistaken. I’ll admit I’m a lot of lovely negative traits, but annoying isn’t one of them.
“Stop frowning. It’s not good for you.” His hand lifts, and he traces the downturn curve of my mouth, and the mixture of his serene voice and skimming touch sends a shiver across my skin.
How does he do that to me: distract me with such minimal effort? Sweet touches and shy smiles never did a thing for me before I met him.
He’s wrecked me.
“Where have you been going at night?” he asks flatly, and all that sweet drunkenness he gives me turns quickly to sobriety.
This is what he’s good at: lowering people’s guards until they give him and tell him whatever his pure little heart could ever desire.
Fuck his heart.
My objective is more important.
“Nowhere.”
His hand drops as his head tilts to the side with so much disbelief, it’s clearly weighting his entire pretty little head.
