Page 6 of The Iron Fae
Yeah, I fucking hate that.
I don’t take the time to respond as I press my feet into my boots. Before I move toward him, I take the time to slip the amulet into a small pot on top of the fireplace mantel. I pat it for good measure and a wish of safe keeping. There isn’t a need for me to reply to Rowan, now, as Violet sweeps into the room without bothering to knock as Rowan had.
“Don’t worry, my underdressed pet, I’m here to save you.” An emerald green dress wraps around her, tied with a shining satin ribbon. Her tiny feet are slipped into sparkling gold shoes. The heels don’t even click against the ground as she moves through the room. It’s like she swallows up sound and light.
“If we must.” Purposefully, I keep what distance I can between me and Lincoln’s sister. I wonder if she is a mirror of her mother’s cruel demeanor I’m often told about.
Her eyes narrow on the drop of syrup staining my t-shirt but she doesn’t say anything as she glides across the room and takes my hand. In one swift movement she pulls me forward from the bed and drags me as I clumsily follow. Rowan snickers behind us. Even with his echoed laugh I can sense him trail after us.
Outside of the room the halls are illuminated by the light of the day. I watch door after door pass only to wonder which one they’ll drag me through to portal me all the way to whatever shop meets their fancy.
I feel like a rag doll. Their plaything. Even if it’s all for my safety, I despise the way I feel like I’m just floating along.But what sort of coming into myself sort of story would it be if they didn’t whisk me away for some sort of makeover?I think bitterly.
Violet’s grip holds me with a surprising delicateness. She holds onto me until her unheard heels pause at the chosen door. We stop and I look around. This hall looks the same as the last and the one before it. I could get lost here so easily, and it’s only now that I realize that I don’t know how exactly we got here.
Twisting, I look back at Rowan as his sister reaches for the door. His attention is fixed much lower than I’d care for it to be. He meets my gaze with a knowing smirk and steps forward as Violet tugs me into the void. In the briefest of moments, I reach out to him. Not because I feel any need for his touch, or because I’m nervous it will be just Violet and I, though I am. Simply, it’s because I haven’t figured out how to land and with what I know of the Princess she isn’t likely to catch me or to care.
We fall. The three of us descend into the abyss of the portal, sinking like abandoned ships. Violet’s palm pulls away from mine and even in the darkness I can tell she’s grinning. Even as I lose the gentle touch she’d given me, I reach out hopeful.
Fingers graze up my forearm, holding me steady. As my head spins, I know the landing is coming. I dread embarrassing myself in front of Violet. Rowan won’t let that happen. The air between us is choked away and he brings me up to his body. Even through the many layers of clothes his muscles are apparent.
It’s enough, the moment long enough, I can close my eyes and pretend it’s Lincoln. As soon as his messy curls and deep-set dimples appear inside my head, Rowan stumbles forward, holding me. And Lincoln’s gone.
I crack my eyes open. Rowan tilts his head, letting me go slowly. Violet’s already strolling down a pathed walkway with racks of elaborate clothes set out that she’s examining with such scrutiny.
“I may not be able to read minds,” Rowan tracks after Violet. “but I can smell the difference in you when you think about Lincoln.”
“You can smell that?” Suddenly, I’m resisting the urge to lift my arm and take a whiff of my own armpit.
“Humans put off a lot of pheromones. You don’t consciously recognize it but we can.”
“Well, I really don’t like that.”
I frown at the scarf Violet holds looking between the material and myself. She plucks it off the hanger and drapes it over her torso so it covers her chest. Not a scarf, just a barely there top.
“It’d look better on me anyway.” She shrugs.
“What’s so great about Lincoln?” Rowan tries again.
“I don’t know. He’s kind, funny—though I’m not going to tell him. He’s loyal and loving. Protective but not suffocating.”He has a good dick.I think to myself. “Lincoln believes in me more than I believe in me.”
“I believe in you.”
“You believe in my status.” I snort.
“I believe in that ass too.” Rowan wiggles his brows.
“Exactly.” Violet rolls her eyes. “It’s comments like those that put women off.”
“They seem to work well enough when I’m taking them to bed.” Rowan points to a shop with its dangling sign. The dressmaker.
“Let’s make this very clear.” Violet strolls ahead pushing open the door to the shop. A bell rings inside. “Any woman, when she sleeps with you, made that decision long before you did.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you think women are always silky smooth and smell like cherry blossoms, then you’re an idiot.”
I catch a laugh in the palm of my hand as Violet responds. Rowan shrugs with indifference. He holds the door for me and waves me inside. The shop quickly reminds me of Cordelia’s dressmaker and our visit there, except more organized. Dresses are arranged by color across racks that line walls on either side. Within one color they are organized by sheer coverage, the first dresses being thongs that basically are held up by your shoulders instead of your hips, in my opinion.
