Authors: Pippa DaCosta
City of Fae
The Trinity Law ~ Est. 1974
Look, but don’t touch.
Touch, but don’t feel.
Feel, but never
ever
love.
I should have let him die. Had I known what saving him would mean for me, perhaps I would have.
I hugged my bag close and pulled my coat tighter as the train I’d stepped from clattered out of the subway station, blasting me with hot, dry air in its wake. After the day I’d had, I didn’t want to go home; that much I knew. Lingering on the platform, alone but for a few late-night stragglers and a homeless guy slumped on the floor against a billboard, I checked my cell phone: searching for a signal: No notifications. What did I expect? For my boss to e-mail and say he’d made a mistake? That I actually hadn’t just been fired, and that it was an office prank?
Ha-ha.
Seeing as nobody had gotten in touch with the punch line, I figured I was out of luck, and out of work.
I checked the digital display above the platform: 22:15. Next train in three minutes. While tucking away my cell my gaze lingered on the homeless guy. Something about him gnawed at the part of my thoughts reserved for forgotten things. Steel-buckled boots climbed lean ripped-jeans-clad legs. A long tattered coat covered the rest of him. Expensive, I assumed, from the tailored cut. Clothes designed to be disheveled. His scruffy, unkempt dark hair could have been styled that way.
Maybe not homeless
, I thought;
probably wasted.
Recognition darted through my thoughts. Could it be I’d seen him before? Many times in fact. Like any reporter in London, I knew him by reputation. I ambled closer, feigning interest in the billboard. If I could get a good look at his face, I’d know for sure.
A wave of warm air signaled an arriving train, ruffling my coat and rifling through his hair. His eyes popped open. His gaze flicked to me, locking on with ruthless intensity. For the briefest of moments, three distinct coronas ringed his dark pupils, flecked with sharp filings of light. He blinked and his eyes softened to a less dazzling hue. Thousands of fans regularly swooned at the sight of those tricolored eyes. Sovereign, the infamous rock star fae, with a penchant for provoking the press. But this wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be here, slumped alone on a platform. Where was his entourage? Where were the groupies, and hangers-on? I glanced on either side of us. Nobody paid us any attention. My gaze landed on the EXIT sign, and I considered leaving. I really didn’t have the energy to humor a wasted celebrity, much less one of the toxic fae. Unless … unless I could use this, use him. I inched closer still. His eyes tracked me, flitting from head to toe, analyzing, brow pinched with suspicion.
The next train to Leytonstone thundered in and screeched to a jarring halt behind me. My thoughts whirred. His being here could be the break I needed. Clearly something had happened, and given his reputation, whatever it was would be newsworthy. Sovereign’s fans would fall over themselves to read about his latest escapade. Instead of another reporter getting the scoop, it could be—no, it
would be
—my name on the byline.
“Are you okay?” I crouched down, fumbling with my bag as it tried to slip off my shoulder. “Do you need help?”
His earthy eyes narrowed. His face had the sort of fine angles that would have made him beautiful if not for the hard slash of a smile. Up close, there was no mistaking him. Curiosity fluttered my heart. The notorious London fae had landed in my lap.
His hand shot out from beneath his coat and clamped on mine. A yelp lodged in my throat as a sharp pins-and-needles sensation rushed up my arm. “Hey!” I tugged, but he jerked me closer, almost yanking me off balance and into his lap. The sweet smell of autumn berries—and a darker scent, something lusciously male and intoxicating—filled the air as he whispered against my cheek.
“Help me.” His voice grated, the sound strangled.
“Let me go.” Turning my head, I locked my glare on his. The multifaceted colors were back; green to blue to violet, but beyond that, deeper, something hungry and wild peered back at me.
His grip tightened and he blinked, erasing all traces of what I thought I’d seen. “Not yet.”
“Let. Go.” The fae are quicker, stronger than we are, but it was his touch I feared.
Look, but don’t touch …
The numbness spread to my shoulder, and with it came a gut-churning wave of nausea. I tugged again, but his cool fingers clamped tighter still.
“Just a few seconds more,” he growled.
“Let me go right now or I’ll scream,” I hissed. “And I don’t think you want that kind of attention, do you?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Just help me onto the next train.”
“To Leytonstone?”
“I don’t care where. They’re too close. I have to …” He flinched, and a swathe of numbness wrapped around my arm.
“Sovereign, damn it, let go.” Seconds passed. He searched my face, looking for what I have no idea, but he seemed to find it. His fingers released, and a tingling warmth spilled into the void left by the numbness. I stood, rubbing feeling back into my hand. I could have walked by him the first time I’d seen him. I should have walked away then, for the second time. Or maybe the choice was never mine to make. “Asshole.”
His hard smile twitched. “Nice to meet you.” He held out a fine-fingered hand that hadn’t seen a day’s hard labor in its life. “Help me up.”
“I’m not helping you up. You just assaulted me.” He moved slowly, languidly rolled on his side and onto a knee, as though it pained him. Was he faking it? The fae weren’t like this. They were all catwalk grace and acute control. He looked like he’d been run over by a bus. With a frustrated growl, I clasped his sleeve and pulled. He stumbled to his feet, leaning into me. The Trinity Law was very clear when dealing with the fae.
Look, but don’t touch
was the first level of protection. I shoved him back and shot him a scowl.
He straightened to his impressive six-foot-plus height, rolled his shoulders to work out the kinks, and checked the platform around us, eyes darting. He fixed his gaze on the exits. Looking for crazed fangirls, perhaps? Commuters filed onto the subway cars, oblivious to my altercation with a fae. Was it fear that had him on high alert? What on earth could spook a fae like him? I found myself checking the exits too; his anxiety contagious.
“You got a problem with the fae?” he asked.
Who didn’t? “No. It’s just … I’ve never seen one up close before.” I’d interviewed plenty of their victims, though.
“Congratulations. Now you have.” His sneer was back, masquerading as a smile. He dipped his chin, and those gorgeous eyes widened, three colors blooming. “I’m sorry I forced the touch. Will you accept my apology?”
I snorted. “Save the sweet talk. I know who you are, and I’m not falling for it.”
“Fine.” The magic pooling in his eyes dissipated. “Could you at least help me onto the train?”
This was my chance to wash my hands of him. I could have looked back on the encounter and thanked lady luck I’d walked away. He’d already broken the first law. A woman smarter than I would have told him exactly where to go. But I needed my scoop if I was going to fight for my job and in terms of newsworthiness, he was hot. “Sure.” I tried out my most genial smile and swept my hair back, hoping he didn’t notice my hand tremble. He seemed to buy it. With seconds to spare, the door-closing alarms beeping a warning, we stumbled into the empty train car. He collapsed onto one of the seats, managing to sprawl lean limbs and commandeer as much space as possible. Movement outside the train caught my eye. Three men spilled onto the platform. All tall, slim, quick as whips, with the same fine bone structure and impossibly perfect conformation. But beneath their long coats I caught a glimpse of polished weaponry. Fae daggers and short swords; blades as lethal as their wielders. Only the elite Fae Authority were permitted to carry blades in public. Well, wasn’t this a night full of surprises. They spotted Sovereign and surged toward our car.
“Friends of yours?” I asked.
Sovereign turned and spat a vivid curse. The faces of the FA darkened with intent. One Authority warrior pointed and barked an order, but our train jerked into motion and pulled out, plunging into the tunnel and away from Reign’s pursuers. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was in trouble. Standing by the closed doors, I ran my gaze over him once more. Usually preened and styled to rugged perfection on TV, his polished persona had tarnished. Dirt, and what looked suspiciously like splashes of blood, stained his clothes.
Look, but don’t touch.
Not to be trusted, self-centered, manipulative, only after one thing; the touch. That was the fae.
“What’s your name?” he asked, opening his eyes and fixing them once more on me.
“Alina.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alina. I’m Sovereign.” He said it as though expecting applause.
I arched an eyebrow. “I know.”
A broad self-important smile cruised across his lips. “Reign to my friends.” And he made it sound like an honor to speak his name.
“You have friends?”
“Ooh.” He clenched a hand over his chest and exaggerated a wince. “Sticks and stones.”
A wild little smile curled my lips before I could shoo it away.
“You’re American?” he asked.
“Yeah …” I hesitated. I’d lived in London almost a year, and at first I worried my accent might mark me as foreign, but London, with her web of ancient streets and forgotten avenues, embraces lost souls. I was just another anonymous face among thousands.
“American, huh …” Reign remarked, holding my gaze as if he could stare me into telling him more. I certainly had no intention of telling him anything I didn’t have to, especially considering he’d
touched
me and broken the law. He’d obviously been weak, and a weak fae is a dangerous thing.
“Relax,” he drawled, noting my scowl. “I just took a little of your
draíocht
. It won’t have any lasting effects.” When my scowl pinched into a glare, he frowned. “I didn’t have a choice.” He paused, giving his next words gravitas. “I am in your debt.”
My
draíocht
; the aura of energy all living things exuded. He pronounced it as
dree-ocht
, and curled something of an accent into the word, lending it an exotic flavor. The fae needed it to live. It just so happened we had enough for them to tap into, and could replenish our reserves. I shifted from foot to foot. One single touch wouldn’t be enough to cause any lasting damage, if the leaflets and public service announcements were anything to go by, but I still felt peculiar; exposed. A tingling numbness skittered beneath the palm of my hand. Perhaps I could treat this experience like research. I’d written my fair share of fae-victim stories. Well, now I had a little firsthand knowledge. I’d been in the midst of a fae bespellment story when I’d been let go from my internship, and while I had no desire to be this fae’s victim, I wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to get closer to him.
“Someone else might not have been so forgiving …” I trailed off as he planted both boots on the floor and leaned forward.