Page 8 of By the Fae

“So, what is it?” I said, deciding on the spot I wouldn’t leave without some answers. “Why does everyone treat me like I’m invisible? Why do you hate me so much?”

He didn’t refute my question, he simply held out his hand as though demonstrating towards the entirety of me.

“What are you pointing at? My dungarees? Or my humanness?”

The briefest smile crossed Goldie’s features. “Me personally? Both. Can’t stand either. All the other fae in the building? It’ll be the latter.”

“I like my dungarees,” I said into my lap, choosing to ignore the blatant speciesism. “They’re comfy and practical.”

He watched me for a moment. Probably deciding what fae ‘truth’ he could get away with stretching. “I can’t really speak for everyone, but I have no interest in working with . . . a human. Even if it is only for two months.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve heard all aboutyourinterests,” I countered.

To my surprise, Goldie’s face split into a wide grin. He tucked his golden hair back over his pointed ears. “I’m sure you have.” He leaned closer to me, pushing his citrus-cologne scent down my throat. Oh no, it was a good scent. Oranges and neroli, but masculine. I tried not to breathe it in too deeply.

“You could learn a little from me,” he whispered.

I slid backwards on the sofa, putting as much distance between us as I could. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“All I’m saying,” he said, in that smoky, suggestive tone. “Is that maybe you could loosen up a little, let off some steam. You seem very tightly wound, and I am merely concerned that perhaps you’re not fulfilling your needs properly. Do you catch my drift? Maybe you ought to take a trip down to sixth and find a willing participant. Someone to help you work out some of that frustration.”

No. I mean, Goldie couldn’t have suggested what I thought he was suggesting. Right?

“I’m sorry—You can’t—What?”

“You know, the guys down there would probably fight each other for the novelty of finger banging a human in the stationary cupboard.”

“Gods!” I got to my feet, heat blazing up my neck and face.

I didn’t know what I was more affronted by. The finger-banging comment — which was undoubtedly sexual harassment, was it not? — or the novelty comment.

Had he actually called me a novelty? A novelty! I couldn’t stay there any longer.

“Aw no, are you leaving already?”

I realised in that moment, perhaps he had only said it to outrage me. Ensure I never wanted to speak with him again, let alone choose him to shadow. Well, if that was the case, it had worked.

I pointed to the1409print. “I built that game, by the way.”

“I know,” he whispered, possibly to himself, before hooking his feet up over the armrest once again, and closing his venomous eyes.

I yanked the door open and turned in just enough time to see Goldie’s blonde head hitting the arm of the sofa, right on top of my cardigan.

Oh no, my favourite cardigan.

I’d have to leave it, a casualty to the war. There was no way I was going back in there.

Ever.

Chapter 4.

Goldie

Gah. Technically, I wasn’t allowed to nap at work, and now I couldn’t even do that properly. I tossed around on that impossibly tiny sofa, realising my head was on top of her bloody fluffy pink jumper. It smelled like raspberries and those pill-sized purple sweets. I lobbed it across the room.

“Stupid soft human clothes!”

I got to my feet. Paced. Drank the rest of my coffee. Paced. Made another coffee.

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