Curse And Craving

41

s*x. f*****g—raw and carnal, and as crucial as oxygen. When I was lost in that s****l haze, I knew for a certainty that if I wasn’t touched, stroked, filled … I would die. Living at the Huntsman might keep me safer from the Unseelie, but it would increase my risk in other ways. Plenty of those men sitting around Lochlan’s table had glared at me like I was the source of all evil. Staying under their roof would give any of them easy access to me. What if one of them thought it was wise to send me a message like Lochlan had? I shivered at the mere thought. No, thank you. I might have been convinced to make the move had I not been treated to that little display. Foolish or not, I felt safer in my own tiny apartment, so that was where I’d stay. It was Sunday, and my plans consisted of laundry and taking a personal day, meaning no bra, no pants, and binge-watching Netflix. I forced myself from bed and got the first load of laundry going when Ashley texted. ASH: Made it home and slept all day yesterday—how’s it going there? Me: Great, been nice and quiet, watching Versailles today. Ash: U sure? No new sightings or information? Me: Nope, like I said, things have settled down. Ash: K, tell me if that changes. Me: Will do! I HATED LYING, but sometimes, it was necessary. Other than my brief chat with Ashley, I spent the day entirely alone, and it was glorious. I had desperately needed the time to regroup and felt decently refreshed by the time I strolled into work the next day. I found Cat sitting at the front desk when I entered, returned from her unexplained absence. “Where the hell have you been?” I whispered conspiratorially. She came around the desk and spoke softly. “Come on, let’s visit in the coatroom.” I followed her lead into the small, empty room, and she closed the door. “I told my family about the Unseelie, and the elders called a meeting out of town. It can take a while for everyone to gather and settle on a course of action.” “What did they decide? Are they going to help?” She frowned. “They want to see how things unfold before taking any action.” I was more disappointed than I had expected. I knew the chances for help had been slim, but I’d managed to raise my hopes high enough that her news was upsetting. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me about this group or how they know about the Fae?” “I don’t suppose you're going to tell me how you see the Fae?” We held each other’s eyes, clearly at a stalemate. “That’s what I thought,” she said with a brow raised. I rolled my eyes and relayed what had happened at the garage, keeping my newfound abilities to myself. If her people were wary of the Fae, I didn’t want to be marked an enemy just because I’d wielded powers. Cat was shocked to hear about the Red Caps. “They're supposedly exceptionally vicious, cannibalistic even. The legends say that they get their name from a time when they served as Queen Mab’s guard. Similar to human cultures that took scalps or ears as trophies of their kills, the Red Caps used to mop up the blood of their slain enemies with their hats and wear the soiled cloth as a badge of honor. At least, that’s the rumor. I’ve certainly never seen one to confirm.” I recalled their crusty red hats and shivered. “That sounds insane. Every new thing I learn about the Fae is more twisted and messed up than the last. And on top of it all, after everything that had happened Saturday night, I fought with Lochlan. He wanted me to move into the Huntsman.” “You didn’t agree, did you?” she blurted in horror. “No, of course not!” I held off telling her why. I knew she already feared them, and I didn’t want to give her more reason to hate them. I disagreed with what he’d done, but I didn’t think he was innately bad. We all make poor decisions at some point. “Thank the Lord.” “Cat, I need to know why you’re so afraid of them. I’m sinking into this world more and more every day, and I need to know why you think they’re so dangerous.” Cat’s eyes flitted to the door, and I could plainly see on her face that she was torn. Just as I resigned myself to her refusal, she spoke softly. “I can’t tell you everything, but I will say that my ancestors were killed by the Wild Hunt to keep the Fae secret. They slaughtered many innocent people until few were left, and those who survived went into hiding. The Hunt cannot know of our existence. We don't know if they would still try to eliminate us, and we can't risk it.” I was heartbroken for Cat’s family, and I hated to know that Lochlan could have been involved in murdering innocent people. “I won’t say a word; I swear to you.” I gripped her hand in mine, trying to assure her that I understood the importance of her secret. Our eyes locked in understanding. With no small amount of trust, our budding friendship was quickly forming a solid bond. I was grateful for that because the value of a genuine friendship was priceless. LEAVING WORK LATER THAT DAY, I exited the museum to find Lochlan waiting for me outside. He was back to wearing an expensive suit, swathed in effortless power. Just the sight of him was intoxicating. A flood of embarrassment and anger froze me in place. “What do you want?” “You can lower your shields. I’m not here to fight.” I hadn’t truly expected him to attack me, but I’d definitely tensed into a defensive stance. Taking a deep breath, I relaxed my shoulders and walked to where he stood on the marble steps. “I f****d up. It won’t happen again.” He handed me a small rectangular box. “There’s a holster inside. I would strongly suggest wearing it at all times.” Inside lay a black blade similar to the one he had given me during the fight with the Red Caps. The blade was sleek with a solid handle, and though I wasn’t an expert by any means, I could tell it was a beautiful weapon made for precision. I hadn’t expected an apology. The Fae warrior didn’t strike me as the type to easily give that sort of admission, which made his contrition all the more meaningful. “Thank you, Lochlan.” His jaw flexed. “Walk with me. We need to talk.” I wasn’t sure a single bit of good news had ever started with that sentence in all of history. “We need to talk” might as well show up in Webster’s Dictionary under the synonym “We’ve got a problem.”