Page 18 of The Pixies' Chosen

“Ammayi,” Trysts calls sweetly, and my eyes turn absently back to him.

“Hmm?”

The male chuckles softly but there is no mockery in his eyes, only warmth and affection. It’s because of that I feel confident in confiding in him without worrying about being laughed at. Havoc is another matter, but I don’t think he will laugh openly with Tryst sitting between us and I really don’t care if he busts something laughing outside and out of hearing range.

I shrug and gesture to the remote lying on the table with a wry smile. “I can’t get the stupid television on. The buttons are too hard for me to press.”

“Really?” Tryst murmurs as he stands and circles the remote. He tries stepping on the power I indicated but it doesn’t do more than tremble beneath his weight. He gives it a curious glance and turns his head so that his eyes fall on me speculatively. “I may have an idea, but?—”

“But what? Look, I’ll do anything if you can at least give me TV,” I promise.

He chuckles again and shakes his head. “We will savethatconversation for later. As I was saying, it all depends on how much you trust me.”

My head tilts curiously but I’m intrigued by the sincerity coming from him. “Trust you for what?”

Less than three minutes later, I’m hovering about three feet in the air over the button as Tryst lines us up. Havoc is reclined below, his eyes following us and shimmering with an amusement that matches the mocking smile playing over his lips.

“Get ready,” Tryst calls down to me. “My aim is excellent, so just drop straight down and land firmly with all of your weight centered.”

I nod nervously, but I’m proud that I don’t shriek when he suddenly releases me so that my feet compress the button with enough force that the TV screen flicks on seconds before I topple over on the table. I lie there for a minute, staring at the TV screen, excitement rushing through me. It worked!

Springing to my feet I excitedly reach up for Tryst, waiting for him to scoop me back off my feet.

“Okay, let’s try that again, but this time aim me for Vidflicks,” I shout as he plucks me from the ground. “And then later we can try Horrorbox. You guys are going to love this!”

I wiggle in his grip as he draws me back into the air, teasing his body with mine as we hover once more over the remote. I could just turn around and kiss him for giving some kind of enjoyment back to me, but I decide to do that later in our bed where I can properly show my appreciation.

A flush heats my cheeks, and Tryst’s laughter rumbles above me knowingly so that I giggle helplessly. Of course he knows. There’s no hiding it from him. Damn pheromones.

CHAPTER 15

HAVOC

Iscowl as I fly among the trees, the occasional caw of a crow following after me. The birds are a collective nuisance. First it was just one or two, but now six linger among the trees forcing me to time my hunts for the earlier hours when the light is dim. That is fine with me—this is my preferred time to hunt. The days are too hot and too bright in this world to enjoy the activity without the shelter of the thick growth of trees that always sheltered us in the Dark Forest. At least the chilly breeze as if ghostly fingertips are walking over one’s own skin is a familiar one, and the long shadows of the pale light of the early hour can be deceptively close to the glades in the kinder parts of the forest.

I would take a moment to find a place to bask and soak in the early light, but the issue of the crows bothers me for some reason I cannot put a finger on, and because of that I do not wish to be so far away for too long should something happen. In any case, I have to hunt to provide for my nest brother and a hungry queen.

My lip curls slightly in a sneer at the thought, but it is a halfhearted effort. The nest I had helped build now smells strongly of their mating and because it appeals to me far too much for my comfort, I spend hours far from it scouting and hunting even as it makes my heart grow heavy with longing. I am an outsider in the nest, and I feel that keenly, but I battle still against the instinct that insists to draw close and sink my pricks into the heat that would join me once more to my hive. I can’t even sleep in the same nest now without being plagued by dreams. It has gotten so bad that I have taken to sleeping on an uncomfortable mound of cloth thrown haphazardly on her couch while their scents rise tantalizingly from where they curl up together in the nest.

And it is worse now after days of their rutting. Tryst’s scent has mingled so thoroughly with hers, and the sweetness of her own scent has ripened to such a degree that it now invades my dreams, and his pleasure in mating disturbs my days through the hive bond. It has gotten to the point that I am now fantasizing of piercing her soft body with my cocks and drowning its depths with stream upon stream of my seed. And then I would pierce Tryst’s body and plow them both together as his cocks rock in and out of her with my every thrust into the tight clasp of his ass.

Groaning, I drop down in a relaxed crouch onto a tree branch and swipe a hand down my face as I thrust the fantasy away yet again for the dozenth time since rising. My hand drops wearily at my side, and I scan the dimly lit streets unenthusiastically, waiting for… something.

I prop my jaw on my fist and allow my gaze to wander aimlessly as my wings lie lax against my back and the wind ruffles my hair. From various windows, I see haunting silhouettes of decorations that bring a reluctant smile to my lips. I have to admit that Tryst is right about one thing. With all theeerily colored flickering lights for the seasonal festivities, there is a little something here reminiscent of the Dark Forest as the humans seem to relish the same frightening things that would hunt them in the night. Even the monsters dwelling here among the humans have gotten into the spirit, but none of them seem to enjoy it with the same bloodthirsty zeal as Ammayi who has, with Tryst’s help, managed to operate her magic box she calls a television to watch her little nightmare stories. Her Halloween marathon, she calls it.

My lips tip as my thoughts return to the female under my care and I shake my head with reluctant amusement. For all her love of such gruesome things, she certainly is squeamish. Tryst has long forbidden me to tell her what I hunt for our meat, since apparently the idea of eating songbirds and small rodents is distressing to her, as is roasting locusts and beetles. I shake my head in amusement because I do not understand what she would imagine that we would eat, as small as we are. There are seeds too, which supplement our meal, but all it took was Ammayi refusing to eat a mouse once for my nest brother to draw me aside to discuss strategy for how to feed “our fussy mate.”

It is ridiculous and I am certain that sooner or later Tryst will get tired of this game. But how much time will he waste in the meantime, motivated by his overwhelming sense of responsibility for something that is neither of our faults, is the question. Truthfully, it is simply bad luck, or the will of the gods, or even a freak accident—however one wished to look at it and should be treated accordingly. That Tryst remains glued to her side is impractical at best. What sort of life will she have with pixies if she cannot adapt to something as simple as our nutrition? How can we possibly make her happy, especially when she clings so much to her human comforts? This was something I had not considered beforehand and now it seems to be a glaring problem that will just repeatedly present itself.

I groan quietly in frustration, my wings buzzing in an attempt to relieve my stress. I do not know why I am making myself crazy with this. She is not even really our responsibility. Any effort I make to get her to face reality and help her adjust is subverted by Tryst’s insistence on coddling her. It is teaching her nothing of how to survive in her new world. Yet he has somehow talked himself into believing that this is what is best for all of us when this was never the plan.

We were never going to stay in the human world. We have our own lives to get back to after this ill-fated venture, and the nest we toiled over for years waiting for us to return. And it is a life that is not suited to a female who would never be able to survive in our world. The fact that Tryst is entertaining this game is absurd. What does he plan to do—spend the next few centuries sneaking food in while she is unaware and try to tend to her oversized nest? Doubly ridiculous!

There is nothing we can do but leave her with those who can properly care for her until we are able to help her return to her true size. There must be someone who knows. When we return home, I will tirelessly search them out. Fate or not, she does not deserve this. And Tryst—I know my beloved is trying to hold onto a piece of happiness he has been looking for and that I selfishly denied him for so long.

I was the one who withdrew bitterly when no queen would accept us. I was the one who refused to participate in any more chases despite my hive brother’s feelings. It is no wonder he thinks I am so heartless. But it is just the opposite. I feel as if old wounds are being cut open afresh as I watch another attempt to mate fail. Tryst may think I am being a cold bastard for not playing his game, but as each day passes, I also despair seeing how ill-suited she is to adapting to our life and how, ultimately, it is my fault she is even having to suffer it. But let Tryst thinkI am a cold and unfeeling asshole. I do this to spare us all the heartache.

I sigh heavily, my wings drooping though I try to ignore the pang in my heart as my chest constricts. I rub a hand over the ache but frown as my gaze settles on something sliding through the shadows near the building that we’ve claimed as our temporary territory while we are nesting there. My wings snap up curiously as my eyes attempt to follow the shadow, but it moves too quickly, blending into the shadows in a way that even many fae cannot quite accomplish. A gauzy blur of fabric whirls around them with every movement that obscures their visibility further, and I sigh with frustration when they finally disappear altogether.

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