Page 4 of Fairies Don't Fall

“Absolutely.” Max kissed my temple. Of all the shocking, nervy, preposterous things for a warrior wolf to do in this situation… “Ruin, get back to the Juvenile Detention Center and tell everyone that they have a new friend coming soon.”

I flung my head back, trying to smash his face with my skull, but it only thunked against his pectorals. They were well-padded with muscles that could take much more beating than my head.

She sent me another apologetic look, then turned and ran back towards the entrance to Song, leaving me with the warrior wolf wrapped around me like a barnacle. Surely this wasn’t dignified warrior wolf behavior, so why was he trying to restrain me? Okay, not trying. He knew how to capture fairies. Did this happen a lot to him? What exactly did his duty entail? I stopped struggling and went stiff instead.

“Warrior wolves don’t have duty,” I said, trying to channel the frost my aunt, Lady Dawn, used when she spoke to Vervain. They were from the same court, the House of the Rising Sun, so you’d think they’d be buddies, but no. She was probably the only person in existence who didn’t constantly tell me how perfect he was.

Max rolled to his feet, still holding me, and began a brisk jog towards the owl cavern. It was an awkward position to be carried, what with my jolting against him at every step. He had so many muscles that he could use to tear things limb from limb. So many muscles from the pectorals that padded my head to the abdominals against my back, pinning my wings flat. He made me feel so small and stupid. I was small and stupid, or I wouldn’t be in that incredibly ridiculous position. I curled up my knees so my legs wouldn’t bump against his thighs at every step.

We turned a corner in the cavern, and there were the owls, hundreds and thousands of the birds circling around the enormous rock that stretched up, with a large nest on top. It was an awe-inspiring sight, but the smell of bird droppings was what had me gasping.

“No?” he rumbled against my ear. “It sounds like you’re going to have to do a lot of studying if you’re going to come up with a groundbreaking dissertation on werewolves. Warrior wolves have duty. You are my duty.”

His words wrapped around me like golden tentacles of fate.

I stiffened up. What was that feeling? It was a binding, but how could a wolf be bound to me? Or vice versa. I never should have come here. I was bound to my people, not werewolves. My people, my land, it was enough. The last time they’d carried me on a litter to heal the land, I’d been sure I was going to die, it hurt so much. That was my duty, to suffer for my people, to take the death sickness from them and hold it inside of myself. I deserved it for dodging my responsibility in the first place, but I had absolutely no room for anyone else’s suffering, certainly not a werewolf’s. I shook my head rapidly, bumping his pectorals. “Take it back! Hurry!”

He rumbled a laugh. “It’s too late for that, little fairy.”

I struggled against him, wearing myself out for absolutely no reason since I already knew that he knew exactly how to stay outof range of every weapon I had on my person. Iwasa weapon, but he avoided all my edges, from my wing blades to my claws.

“I’m not little!” I tried for one last skull smash before slumping in his arms again. “What exactly is your duty towards me?” I asked, sounding too tired to care. I cared, but I was wearing myself out when I had barely any energy in the first place. That was really stupid.

He put me down, grasping my shoulder, but allowing me the dignity of walking on my shaky legs. “I’m going to help you get well. You can’t live on Pixie dust forever. I don’t take kindly to anyone getting lit in my territory. I thought all the fairies knew that. I’m not going to hurt you; I’m going to heal you.”

I snorted. “You can’t heal me. What kind of arrogant cur thinks he can heal someone from an entirely different species who can’t heal themselves?”

He patted my head like I was a cute little idiot fairy. “The kind that could rip off your head with one hand. That kind of arrogant cur. The term ‘cur,’ by the way, is extremely hurtful to werewolves. You might not want to use it around others who may take offense at your careless words. Is it arrogance if it’s based on experience? I’ve spent decades helping pixie dust addicts find their way to being whole.”

“I’m not a pixie dust addict,” I muttered, but he was right about the way I was speaking to him, antagonizing him while I was completely in his power. Was I suicidal? Maybe. I wanted so much not to hurt anymore.

My heart fluttered wildly in my chest, proving I was still alive, when he gestured towards the massive owl rock. “Now you’re going to return the egg where it belongs.”

I swallowed hard as I looked at the circling birds. “I’m still bleeding from the last time, and you heard the girl. I didn’t take the egg.”

He rumbled low, “Do you want me to make her climb up and return the egg? True, she deserves that fate, but would you give it to her?”

I scowled over my shoulder at him. No. I wouldn’t make the cute little werewolf girl suffer. “I can’t climb while you’re holding onto me.”

He smiled and released me, gesturing towards the stone face. “After you. And just think how much gratitude you’ll earn from the owl god. You’ll have to write all about it in your dissertation.”

I frowned at him. The way he’d said that, he knew I was lying, but he’d still use it until I admitted that I was lying, and then he’d demand to know the truth. I could say I was doing Pixie-dust, whatever that was, but I was not going to claim something that wasn’t respectable or true. I already had enough of my own weaknesses he didn’t need to know about.

How was I supposed to keep the werewolves from being poisoned unless I was close enough to see the threat? That’s why I was here, to prevent another invasion. Also, it would be a pity if young girls like Ruin got slaughtered out of hand. Who would want these caverns? Did Max get regular visitors here? Were some of them scouting for a terraform?

This werewolf who could rip off my head with one hand was the perfect in to a close-knit, suspicious people who would ordinarily keep fairies at arm’s length. Teeth length. Such long teeth.

I took a deep breath that made all of my internal organs ache and smiled brightly at him.

“Perfect. I always wanted a lucky omen, particularly from an owl god. I’m a little shaky, though. I might fall to my death.”

His answering smile was as bright as mine, teeth flashing beneath the beard. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sparkles. Fairies don’t fall.”

Chapter

Three

Climbing the rock was interesting in that I had a warrior wolf breathing on my ankles the entire way. It was a threat that inspired my aching fingers to keep holding on. When I reached the top, I peered over the edge of the nest to find the enormous owl staring at me with its unblinking orange eyes.

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