Page 20 of Hell on Wheels

The damn thing was barely held together with duct tape and super glue as it was.

When I’m able to grieve properly, I know all of this will fade to rage. The Dark Unseelie inside of me will break loose from its chains and I’ll be a terror on skates and behind the wheel. It’s happened before, for worse reasons, but letting the blackness I keep leashed is never a good thing. My thirst for blood and vengeance will make me more reckless, strip my empathic humanity, and send me on quest after quest to quench its hunger.

It might be a good thing that my wings need time to fully heal.

Distractions like the upcoming match against the Drop Kick Mollies from Mounty Cove or the big vehicle triathlon Roadrunner is sponsoring will keep me busy, too. I’ll have to train like hell for both—the Mollies are owned by some human gangster group headed by a badass chick married to a bunch of guys. Unusual for their species, but her team is ruthless and they move like they're used to ducking bullets rather than elbows. And the trike… Rebel and I will need to brush up on air and sea, but no one else has to be around for that.

Speed boats and helicopters and human assassins should be enough danger to keep the pit sated, right?

Sighing, I ease my way off of the massive bed. My arm hurts a lot less and I should probably look at it when I get dressed to face my failure. I can’t sit up here and wallow in my room forever or they’ll eventually come get me. I’d prefer my humiliation to be on my own terms, so I need to suck it up.

“Okay, Rogue. You can do this. Put on your fucking crown and make those boys bow.”

Especially that cowardly little demon that left you like a thief in the night.

I open the drawers, pulling out the tiniest, most badass set of lingerie I own. No one’s going toseeit, but my sexuality is part of my disguise and I need to own it. The black and purple straps stand out against my pale skin and the tattoos like restraints—fitting, I think. I’m trapped in a cage of my own construction.

The mesh crop top and well-worn denim of my shortest cutoffs barely cover anything, but that’s the point. Padding into the bathroom, I brush my teeth and the tangles out of my hair. I decide to put it up in space buns before adding my signature pinup cat eyeliner and pink gloss. Piercings and tatts sparkle in the mirror's light as I stare at my reflection.

Sufficiently badass and hot simultaneously—this’ll do, pig.

I pat my rounded tummy as a memory of the first time I said that in front of Mina flashes in my mind. She thought I was dissing my curves, and I laughed. Fae don’t have the same hang ups many of the supes have. My body is made by the Goddess for me and it’s served me well in all my pursuits.

I’m solid enough to slam a bitch in the derby and strong enough to hold my own in a fair fight, even without magic. Men, women, and everything in between think I’m hot. What the fuck do I care if some raggedy humans decided beauty was defined by looking as if I’ve been starved by a sadist?

It’s a goddamn miracle they’ve survived the many plagues and extinctions the ancients have thrown at them over a millennium.

Not that theyknowthat, nor is any supe allowed to tell them. The Society keeps us all under wraps except at the highest levels of their leaders because we’d terrify their simple minds. I’ddisagree, but shit like the Salem Trials or genocides of their own people say it’s the right thing to do.

“Now that I’ve wandered all over history in an effort to avoid this confrontation, it’s time to Fae up and go downstairs,” I mutter under my breath.

I turn off the lights and pad out the door of the bedroom, listening for their voices. It sounds like they’re in the kitchen and the smells wafting in the air confirm it. My stomach rumbles as I hurry down, letting go of my fear in favor of getting fed.

When I step into the room, they’re all at the table, laughing as they put down various plates of food. Rebel looks worried, probably because I took my arm out of the brace. Archie beams and waves, while Javi continues filling the table with food. He doesn’t look at me, but Angelo and Damon are making up for that by staring at me with flames in their eyes.

Are they that angry at me for ruining our friendship?

Before I lose confidence and run, my stomach growls loudly, and I turn bright red.

“Guys, we better feed Wheels before she eats us,” Archie snorts, leaning back in his chair. “That growl sounded like a starving cub.”

Damon’s olive skin pales and he chokes on the bite he was taking. His twin claps him on the back, lips twisting in a smirk. The fire in his eyes jumps and I swallow hard as I feel the heat like it’s pushing at my skin. Finally, Javi breaks our standoff when he walks in front of me to put the last platter on the table.

“Sit, you fools. Dragonfly is hungry, and I’ll be damned if she's not going to eat, so she keeps healing.”

That kind of command isn’t like the easygoing phoenix, but it’s kind of hot.

Smirking, I drop into the chair at the head of the table, ignoring Rebel’s protests as I salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”

Every eye in the room lands on me as I sip the drink in front of me and I grin behind the glass.

That’s more like it. Never let them see you bleed, Rogue.

Do I Wanna Know?

“No fucking way, Rogue! You’re not this stupid!”

Burying my hands in my hair, I struggle not to tear it out. She flounced out of her room this morning with barely a word to anyone. Once breakfast was over, she helped clean up and headed for the game room, locking the door behind her.

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