Page 11 of Close Quarter
Once more, Rhys went taut with shock. "Fae.
You mean like a fairy?"
"Well, I don't have wings. Nor do I fly about trailing pixie dust." Silas stroked his thumb over the top of Rhys's hand. "And I am a bit longer than five inches."
Color drained from Rhys's cheeks. "You're serious."
"Very."
Rhys opened his mouth to speak again, disbelief clearly etched on his face. Fortunately the food arrived, providing Silas with a respite from questions.
He did have to give up Rhys's hand to eat.
Pity, that. He missed the touch of Rhys's skin. Best to leave him be, for a time. He knew from having watched the man this past hour or so that Rhys needed to work things through in his mind.
Dinner conversation was nonexistent until Rhys spoke again. "Um, I'm not your servant for the next seven years, am I?" There was a clip to Rhys's voice that was hard to interpret. Sarcasm, perhaps.
"Thomas the Rhymer. You know your classic tales." Impressive, though Silas suppressed a shudder. Seven years bound to another's will? He would not wish that on anyone. He had lived that, for far more years than seven.
Silas toyed with one of the shrimp on his plate. Rhys had gained back the color in his face, and splotches of red marred his neck. "No. I cannot bend your will to me. There is no Elfland beyond a river of blood to which I can take you. I am as much of this world as you."
"I suppose that's good. I'm not sure I'm ready to believe in magical worlds beyond this one." He looked up at Silas. "What do you really look like?"
There was that clip again. Silas set his fork down. "You see me as I truly am. You ask why no one else reacts to me. To everyone else, I am not quite as arresting."
He seemed to mull that over for a time. "So whatever you're doing doesn't work on me."
"It doesn't seem to, no."
"Why not?"
Silas studied him. Oh, there was skepticism there. Perhaps anger as well. And why not? But the creeping awareness of truth lurked deep inside the man. "That's what I'm trying to find out."
HE HAS TO be lying.Rhys repeated that over and over in his head. Silas had to be lying, because the truth was impossible.Fae?Did Silas think him an idiot? Play with the ignorant rich boy's mind for some kink? This had gone too far.
He latched on to the anger. Fae? No way in hell. "That's a convenient dodge."
Silas shrugged. "It's the truth."
What an asshole."You don't know what makes me so superspecial as to see through your illusions?"
"Glamour," Silas said. A touch of annoyance crept into his voice. "And I have an idea but no proof."
"You're so full of shit."
Finally the anger Rhys had witnessed that afternoon spread over Silas's expression. "Am I?"
It was every ounce a challenge.
"Yes." Rhys pushed back his chair. Kissing a guy was one thing; people could ignore that. He took a deep breath and then shouted as loudly as he could. "Hey! Everyone! This guy says he's a fucking fairy!"
The conversations in the room didn't even dip. No one turned. Dishes clinked; servers moved. It was as if nothing had happened at all.
Oh hell.Rhys felt his whole body grow warm. He looked down at Silas.
"Are you through?"
Rhys sank to his chair. "Holy shit."
