Home > Wandering Queen(8)

Wandering Queen(8)
Author: May Dawson

“I take it you know me too?” she demanded. “How the hell did you get in my building?”

I tilted my head to one side. Alisa truly didn’t remember that we all had the ability to glamor humans.

“May I come in?” I managed politely, even though I didn’t appreciate being spoken to in that rude tone. I’d found ways to manage Alisa’s bratty side when we were together, although she’d hardly appreciate that now, from a stranger.

“I already told your brother, I don’t need anything from you.” Her chin rose imperiously.

“How did you know he’s my brother?”

She studied me just as unapologetically as I’d eyed her, her gaze sweeping down my body, then lingering on my face. “I don’t see a lot of six-foot-four black-haired, blue-eyed gods wandering the streets of D.C. Safe to say you two are related.”

I couldn’t help the faint smile that touched my lips. Duncan and I looked different in some ways—for one thing, our scars were different. He wore his hair long enough to cover the points of his ears, and since my ears were blunt, my hair was short, styled to look like a human male who took very good care of himself—but we did look alike.

Alisa thought we looked like gods. That was sweet. Her cheeks flushed and her pulse fluttered in her throat. She wouldn’t be so unguarded with her attraction if she remembered me.

“He’s actually six-foot three,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “I bet he’d say the same about you.”

I nodded at the sword she carried. “Do you usually answer the door like that?”

“When someone knocks on my door, they usually either want rent money or revenge. So, yes.”

There was a sound down the hall, and she glanced that way, pressing her sword behind her back to conceal it.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“I want to bring you home.”

Her eyes widened as they returned to me. Got you. Satisfaction rippled through my body, and I rested my shoulder against the doorframe, studying her face.

“Where’s home?” she asked.

“The Fae world.”

Her face immediately turned guarded. “Okay. Sure. And who the hell are you to me?”

Let me put this in human terms for her. “I’m your ex-boyfriend.”

“Really?” She tilted her head to one side. “How come it took you so long to find me? Weren’t looking hard, were you?”

“Not really, no.” I’d searched the Fae world for her, thinking Herrick had her killed. Despite what she’d done to me, I’d wanted to make him pay for hurting her.

When I learned she was alive in the mortal world, I’d written her off. Run away, Alisa. You always do.

“How do you get to this—” Her lips arched mockingly. “Fae world?”

She didn’t believe me.

I demanded, “You slaughter supernatural beasties, and you don’t believe in the Fae world?”

“I don’t believe in anything I can’t see or touch,” she said.

“I’m right here. I’m a Fae,” I pointed out.

A strange impulse took me over. We were so close right now, and it had been so long since I felt her hands on my body. Just seeing her made my cock throb.

“You can see me.” I caught her free hand in mine.

She drew back automatically, then I felt her give, as if she were curious.

That’s right, Alisa. You always give in to me. A whisper from the past slipped through my memory, of my own voice, my lips against her throat. Autumn always conquers summer.

She’d been summer to me, no matter how cold she acted with the rest of the world.

I guided her slender hand to the hard planes of my chest. “You can feel me.”

No matter how cool she acted, her pulse raced even faster now. Not fear. Alisa felt little fear. Desire.

“Who was I?” she asked, giving into her curiosity. “In that world?”

“You are Fae royalty,” I told her.

She stared at me a second, her eyes widening, then she laughed out loud.

“Does this ever work with anyone?” she asked. “Whatever scam you’re running?”

“I assure you, there is no scam.” Besides the truth of what awaited her in the Fae world after she walked through that portal.

“There’s no Fae world,” she told me, shaking her head. Laughter bubbled on those beautiful lips of hers as she yanked away. “And I’m no princess.”

I jumped to block the door, but her reflexes were as supernaturally fast as mine. She slammed it in my face just a second before my toe caught the door, and instead, I banged my boot harmlessly into the wood.

No, you’re right. You’re no princess.

You’re a damned queen.

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

Azrael

 

Seven years earlier

 

It was close to midnight when the first carriages full of new students for the academy began to roll in. Mist cloaked the mountains that surrounded the academy, and a piercing chill hung in the air. It was always cold here, but the thick wool of my coat—and a bit of magic—kept me warm, even though my breath hung in the air.

This miserable place was the winter court’s fault. It was only early fall in the rest of the world. This place, though, had been cursed.

And our instructors had seized upon that curse to engineer the most miserable school possible.

As the carriage doors opened, chattering first-year students clambered down. Their desire for warmth and rest was written baldly across their faces; they’d have to learn to hide those desires. This place was meant to break spoiled nobles of the need for comfort and safety.

Or perhaps it was just meant to break us, period.

“Glad to see you, little brother,” I called to Duncan, catching him in the mass. He turned to me, a look of resignation written across his face. He’d known I’d be his senior here. He’d complained pretty miserably about our training every break, but I wouldn’t let him fail here. Better for him to bleed and suffer at home.

“Brother,” he said stiffly as he crossed to me. His posture was perfectly erect, even though his lips were dark with cold.

I could tell there was something insolent on the tip of his tongue, but he managed to hold it back for once. We weren’t home any longer.

He reached into his thin jacket and drew out a letter, stamped with our father’s seal. “Something for you.”

“Thank you.” I pocketed it to read later. “Bad news; I wasn’t able to get you as my junior.”

Duncan couldn’t hold back his cynical huff. “I’ll take my chances.”

I hadn’t actually tried. I wasn’t always kind—he was my younger brother—but it didn’t seem fair to take him as my junior like I’d threatened.

Every upperclassman at the school had a new student for a roommate, someone to mentor—and to haze. Our students came from wealthy families where they’d been spoiled; the chance to wash someone else’s laundry and run their errands was good for them.

And it was fantastic for us as upperclassmen.

There was shouting ahead, and Duncan’s head snapped in that direction. The hazing was beginning in earnest.

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