Page 3 of The Pixies' Chosen

“I do not understand, Havoc. Were you not the one who said you were not interested in finding a queen?” I ask, both of my brows rising in polite inquiry, waiting for him to attempt to refute me so that I might pounce.

I am quite surprised when his mouth tightens sourly, his dark violet wings dropping as they spread in a belligerent angle at his sides. His chitin chimes in a whisper of annoyance, and I lean forward in fascination as a mulish look crosses his face. Does he really mean to go through with this?

“How can I ignore such a gift?” he demands in a soft growl that makes my cock tighten in memory of better days in our youth. “We cannot even attract a suitable number of males to our nest much less a queen, no matter how much work we put into it. It is worth the risk of tangling with fairies if it means changing things and finding a queen ofourchoosing.”

“At least you admit that gifts from the fairies are tantamount to suicide,” I mutter. “Glad to see that the Dark Forest has not stolen your sanity.”

Havoc’s snort makes my lips twitch with amusement. Somehow that alone makes me feel better about this situation. Recklessness when it comes to something he truly wants that is just within his grasp is classic Havoc, and seeing him come to life in such a way is reassuring. This Havoc is not the complacent, half-dead male I have been living with. His spark is back and I truly think that he is unconquerable now. He sees the dangers as clearly as I do, but he will steal all that he wants and will not fall to them.

Clearly the bone fairy does not know what she is getting into by making a deal with pixies of the Dark Forest colonies. I barely bite back a chuckle of delight. I am just so thrilled to see my hive brother returned to me. I could almost track down and kiss the bone fairy myself if it were not the most repugnant thing I could possibly imagine.

“I am not a juvenile,” he retorts, but a sly smile tugs unexpectedly at his lips—a smile I haven’t seen in more years than I can count.

For a moment I cannot breathe, afraid that the moment is an illusion that will pass if I dare to draw in a breath or even blink. It is the sort of feral wildness that made him practically a god of chaos among the colony regardless of our unsuitability as mates. One that would have drawn many young queens to him as a bed partner if we had been willing to abandon our hive and become castri, the infertile pleasure workers of the colony.

His wings fan slightly, his chitin trembling with a sweet note of a shiver. “I admit that I was tempted to explore some illicit mingling of magic if she were so inclined—but not without considerable caution. This, however,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers in a caressing graze along the bag, “is far more interesting. It is the promise of plucking the choicest female and keeping her for our own.”

I rub my jaw as I listen to him, my eyes narrowing with interest on the sack. “You wish to ambush and trick a female into being our mate?”

My hive brother gives me a flat look that makes me chuckle and twitch my wings in a helpless shrug.

“You are right, you are right—since when has any pixie of the Dark Forest been above such things?”

His lips curl triumphantly, his wings springing up as he steps closer to me, his hand curling possessively around my neck in a hold that makes me tremble. He leans forward, his lips brushing in a soft trail along my neck as they come level with my ear.

“I am suddenly feeling quite anxious to find the queen that will complete our hive… Are you?” he rasps, his tongue flicking out to brush my ear.

I jerk, a sharp pant rushing from me as I quickly nod. Gods, yes. I will hunt, deceive, and seduce without remorse our chosen female to finally have the missing piece of our family. And the magic of the fairy will bind her life to ours.

An eager tremor rushes through me as he nips the chitin beneath my ear with his fangs, sending a rush of sensation to sensitive flesh beneath it. If he is like this now, feeling the first blush of heat coming to life again with the promise of a queen, I can hardly wait until we have our soft little queen captured between us.

“I am ready,” I rasp, my body going weak with delight as his palm comes up and lightly pats my cheek.

I smile and lean into his touch, my pulse hammering with excitement for what is to come. Finally—a queen.

“Then let us go and hunt her out,” Havoc purrs, his smile growing into a wicked grin as he draws back away from me. “We will chase her to the ends of the earth if we must. Our little wingless zini… How sweet her surrender will be.”

I blink at him and nod, my hand tightening around my flute as a flush rushes through me. My wings hum eagerly, my chitin trembling and dancing over my skin in my own unique song. My fires stir within me, my deep blue light leaping up and illuminating my belly in a flickering dance.

Havoc’s gaze slides over me, approval glimmering in his eyes. His dark hair falls forward, partially concealing his face as he backs away. His wings flutter once—twice—and then without any further warning, he zips up into the air with shocking speed. My tongue slides over my bottom lip as I watch him, my breath catching just a little as I see his violet light weave between the dark branches of the trees. I dart up into the air from the branch as Havoc streaks through the sky ahead of me.

CHAPTER 3

AMMAYI

Ilift my book a little higher, trying my best to return to the story that had been absorbing all my attention until my sister decided to pay me a visit. Inika looks as polished as ever, her ivory silk shirt with a pink flower bud design and perfectly matching pink slacks and pumps looking out of place in my comfortably worn and ramshackle apartment. Even her dark curls fall in a silky wave down her shoulders and back in contrast to the constant state of frizz that I seem cursed to battle. Sitting in my apartment, she’s nothing short of a flower blooming in a bed of weeds. Something which our mother never hesitates to remind me with her worried sighs over why I can’t be more like Inika—popular, fashionable Inika who graduated at the top of her undergraduate class and since then has been busy meeting successful young men in the community.

I don’t begrudge her that in the least. In fact, most times I’m of the opinion that it is far better for her to be the center of all Mummi’s focused attention. Oh, I know my turnwill be coming once my sister is married, but for now I can enjoy the diversion that allows me to lead my independent life. Our parents objected strenuously when I insisted on getting an apartment to live out on my own but had yielded for the sake of it allowing me to be closer to the campus. A campus where I’ve been halfheartedly working on the degree program that they enthusiastically insisted was the practical choice for me—administration. Because what higher aims could they possibly have for their younger daughter whose ambition never extended beyond being first in line for the newest release of one of my favorite series at the local bookstore?

I would almost feel bad about being a regular source of disappointment looming over my mother and father if they didn’t at least have Inika, who is a dutiful daughter and more than happy to excel at everything that our parents set in front of her. Of course, my relationship with my sister is complicated. On one hand, Inika being the dutiful daughter allows me more freedom so that I can skate by doing just enough to keep our parents off my back while enjoying what I want in the meantime. On the other hand, she seems so perfect sometimes that it almost makes me wish that she would randomly just chip a nail or horrifically stain one of her immaculate outfits just so that I could somehow feel a little closer to her. Instead, I feel small and plain… and like a tolerated inconvenience.

And Inika is definitely inconvenienced. I can see it in the way she is currently sitting uncomfortably on my couch with a pained expression and a forced smile on her carefully painted lips. This can only mean one thing—this is not a social call, as if that much shouldn’t be evident from the fact that my sister is incapable of just relaxing for a pleasant visit in my cluttered, shabby apartment, especially with the leftover takeout currently strewn across my beaten-up coffee table from my recent lunch. She stares at it in barely disguised distaste with a faint look ofsomeone who wants to flee. Even the cup of masala chai I went through the effort of making for her when she arrived has gone mostly untouched.

Which means only one thing—she’s here on behalf of our mother.. That also means there’s no hope of her leaving until she has accomplished whatever mission Mummi sent her on. Not with the way her jaw is locking and her smile is tightening with a determined force.

Maybe I should point out that all that tension in her face is going to give her deep lines around the mouth and eyes, but I push the thought away as quickly as it comes. Of all the things I can possibly say to my sister, that would likely be the most disastrous. I’ll just save that for my ace when I need to cut losses and get out of an impending argument with her quickly. God knows I certainly can’t win one against her otherwise.

In defeat, I lower my book and slide the bookmark in place before setting the book on the table and giving my sister my full attention.

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