Page 1 of Kisses at the Crossroads

Chapter 1

Lark

There is exactly one strip club in Hex, Indiana, and I’m the headliner. Not of my own free will, mind you. If it were up to me, I’d be home in the Fae realm. Probably entertaining or sleeping with whatever noble Fae wanted a courtesan in his bed for the night. But no. I’m scantily dressed in a pair of glittery white booty shorts and go-go boots for a crowd of people, not all human.

My long pink hair cascades down my back and I’m thankful every day my captor doesn’t force me to cut it. It takes everything in me not to scratch at the layer of body glitter making my skin itch. Not that my blunt nails are much help to begin with.

Every night, the group of witches that show up sip on mugs of spells. Who knows what they conjure as they look upon me? I sure as shit don’t. The stench of sulfur sometimes gets so bad we have to evacuate the club. Apparently not tonight, though. I can’t smell it backstage at all. And we can’t always attribute the sulfur to the witches. Sometimes it’s the various demons. Or even just a problem in one of the bathrooms.

My wings flitter in their freedom from the dreaded binder. I roll my shoulders and stretch. Music thumps on the main stage beyond the silvery curtain I stand behind.

Do you know how sacred the job of courtesan is in the Winter Court of the Fae? Very. I was trained from the age of three until the day I fell through the stupid veil between worlds. I could play seven different instruments, speak five Fae languages, talk confidently on politics, and engage in at least twelve games of entertainment all before the age of fifteen. But now I’m reduced to barely dressing and entertaining with my body rather than my wits.

“Trick, baby, you never get enough glitter on.” Ava, Drake’s other captive, turns me to face her. I never gave my true name to anyone in the human realm, so everyone calls me Trick. As in tricksy Fae.

“That’s because it itches.” I reach back to scratch a shoulder blade.

“But Drake likes you sparkly.” Ava dusts glitter powder along my cheeks and nose while she scrunches her brows in concentration. Then she dusts my hair from mid-length to the ends that stop right at the swell of my ass. “Perfect.”

Ava’s green eyes sparkle with silver eyeliner. Her cropped brunette hair has more glitter than mine. Her smile reveals small fangs. Ava’s a cursed werewolf rather than a born one. Drake captured her during a full moon before I was stolen and promised to help her. Ava doesn’t dance, but she helps the other performers and cleans up the place.

“Don’t look so sad, Tricksy.” She squeezes my arm with her own sadness coming through loud and clear. “No one wants a sad performer. Get out there, do your thing, and remember to…” Ava waits for me to finish.

“Smile.” I give her a big fake grin. We both laugh out of the ridiculousness.

Ava sighs as she pets my shoulder. “I hope they don’t want to see your light tonight.” She spins me back around again and I press my hands to the wall so she can examine my wings. “Drake hasn’t let you have enough sun.”

“It’s my big mouth. I can’t keep it shut lately.” I shake my head and glitter rains into my lashes.

“Yes, but he knows you need it. You’re a cute little houseplant. You require food, water, and sunlight.”

I snort. “I rather not be compared to a plant.”

She’s grinning when I face her again. She cups my cheeks in her hands. They’re rough and I always wonder if in the past they were soft. My mother had—has—soft hands. She was the beloved courtesan of the Autumn Court until she had my older brother and me, then she moved us all to the Winter Court.

She always wore a jasmine and rose perfume that smelled divine. Sometimes I get a whiff of one scent or the other and my heart aches for the home I barely remember now. I long for marble columns and elaborate tapestries, not stale air stenching of old magic. I wish for the silk bedsheets promised to me. I miss my mother’s voice when she sang for court. Or the music when my brother and I danced for the Winter king. Not this type of dance. Something akin to the human’s ballet. Elegant. Beautiful.

“You’re lost in the past again. Come back. This is your life. Drake has us both good and stuck.” Ava’s words sting and I have to push away the desire to snap back. But Ava’s my one true friend. The one person who knows what it’s like to be Drake’s pet. The other dancers look down their noses at me. I may have been a brat when I was forced to start dancing here, but over the years, I’ve tried to apologize.

I take in a breath and nod. I know Ava is right, but I’ll never give up hope that I can go home one day.

The jingle of twinkling bells marks my time for the stage. I bounce on my toes and drop my wings. I have to tease their reveal.

“Break a leg, Trick.” Ava boops my nose, our little good luck charm, and I walk through the curtain to my crowd.

My boots clip on the dazzling floor of the stage. There are faint lights along the edges, so I know where to step.

It’s always the scent of magic that hits me first. Something like the mix of ozone and citrus. The lights are dim, which means one thing: Drake wants me to share my light. My stomach twists. Maybe I can stall everyone with a raunchy performance. While I don’t strip naked, I’m still required to dance, and when I can, use Fae illusions.

I saunter to the pole in the middle of the stage. It’s gold clashing with the silver of the rest of the decor, but Drake doesn’t care as long as my performance satisfies him and his guests. I undulate against the pole, making sure every witness sees the definition of my cock as I rub against it. The scent of arousal fills the air and I thank the powers that be that Drake never thought to sell me to the highest bidder. Sure, my career had I stayed in the Fae realm would have been a courtesan, but it’s nothing like what people in the human realm do to each other. It’s a respected profession.

The music speeds up, and I continue on with my dance. A few in the crowd murmur that they want to see my wings. Want to see my light.

My heart pounds. Light is impossible when I haven’t been in the sun for the last week. Another few days and I won’t be mobile. Sweat slicks my palms and I slide down the pole, causing the crowd to turn on me.

“Either get naked or show us your wings!” someone calls out.

“I want to see him light up!” Another yells.

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