Page 3 of Kingdom of the Two Moons

She knows the young man means no harm. Humans rarely do.

She snaps at him nonetheless. “You might not want to do that again.”Or I might bite off your head and call it an accident.

He quickly lets go of her and pulls his hand back, as if he could hear what she didn’t say. But it’s shame coloring his absurd cheekbones and not fear. “I—I’m sorry,” he stammers, scratching his neck. “It’s just—I don’t even know your name.”

Blair tilts her head, her long, wine-red hair gracing her hip. Then she arches a brow. “Your mom taught you to be polite, asking for a girl’s nameafteryou’ve screwed her in a bathroom?”

Sarcasm—another adorable trait all fae lack but that she’s adopted over the year she’s spent in the human world.

He frowns at her, blushing even more violently before the corner of his sensuous mouth twitches up. His eyes light up while he runs a hand through his messy, blond hair. “Nope, I guess my mom would have told me not to fuck a girl in a bathroom in the first place.”

Abyss save her, those dimples. As she’s said—weak but adorable. Her fury eases a little. It’s not their fault they are so clumsy and naïve. Not his fault she is an emotional mess. Certainly not his fault that the thought of Caryan ruined her second orgasm, and not for the first time. That this young man is all she wants to be, with his round ears and easy smile.

She pouts her full lips, crooning, “Huh, too bad. You’d have missed out on so much fun.”

“Yeah. Want a drink or something?” He gestures to the bar, hope shining in his eyes.

Hmm, maybe she should keep him for a while. But she can’t. She’s got work to do. She tells him so.

He frowns, obviously confused. “Oh wow, can I… I don’t know… at least get your number?”

That’s the thing about human lovers. It’s such fun to fuck them.

Granted, they can be a little unreliable as lovers, but there is no denying they are terribly cute when they are nervous—and they always are, even the older ones. Not afraid or arrogant, but insecure—something no fae would ever be. Especially no fae man, let alone an angel. The arrogance of a fae man is unbeatable. An angel is the very definition of that word.

Humans even fuck differently. Kind and gentle and generous. Fucking her as if she’s the answer. A revelation. Never bored. Never just out of sheer need and drive instead of real affection.

There’s never violence. No, they rather tend to freak out when her teeth come near their necks. Once, she whispered to a man that she would like to try his blood—well, that didn’t end well, and she hasn’t done that since.

She sighs. She could drag him right back to that bathroom for round two, trying to forget about Caryan and her mission and about fucking everything else.

No, she can’t, she reminds herself.

She steps up to him and gently pats his cheek, careful not to bring her sharp, silver claws anywhere close to his delicate skin. “I would love to, but I’ve really got work to do.”

He frowns, then blinks a few times before even more red starts to creep over his handsome face. Oh yes, now he’s thinking she’s a hooker. She should go. Find that wolf shifter, a creep nicknamed Fenrir, who uses this club as his hunting ground, and flay him alive—literally.

She needs to get a hold of him and torture the information she wants out of him. Others sang his name after she’d finished with them, said the guy has direct contact with Lyrian, high elf and magic harvester. Lyrian, with the girl, Melody, in tow—the actual reason the witch queen Perenilla has sent Blair to the human world in the first place. She needs to find her and bring her to the fae world. Then her mission will be accomplished. Fun over.

She nips that thought in the bud.

“My treat, sweetmeat,” Blair purrs instead, before turning on her heel and vanishing deeper into the club. Her acute sense of smell chases after the peculiar stench of wet dog among all those humans.

She smiles when she picks up the trail on the upper floor and walks straight up to the bar.

Time to play. Show him who’s the real shark in the water.

***

“Please.”

Please. That word always passes their lips in the end. Blair doubts a sadistic, murderous prick like Fenrir ever used that word before.

She leans closer to the body hanging upside down from the ceiling, held by chains she put around his ankles. He tries to wriggle away from her—and fails miserably. Blair flashes him a grin. She can’t deny that she delights in the fear that crept into his haughty face the moment he learned her name. She’s drinking it in now.

Raw fear when she dropped her glamour and revealed what lay under the magical façade she’d put on. What really lurked behind the long, blonde hair and brown deer-eyes she’d taken on just for him—Fenrir’s target group.

He let out a whimper when they arrived in his psycho-hut in the middle of nowhere—this was the cabin he used to kill all those girls in, for fuck’s sake—and she eventually dropped the act, along with her glamour. Revealed her shocking amber eyes, long, deadly, silver canines, and matching, sharp, and utterly deadly, silver nails. Oh, yes, and her red, wavy mane, flowing down her body.

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