Page 66 of Court of Evil

The fae is right. Writ deserves it.

He died to protect his sister, and I will live to protect her in whatever way she needs.

CHAPTER 28

Ilet the woman carry me wherever she wants, all of my fight gone. The last reserves of my strength and power were used on the bastard who kidnapped Writ and me.

Writ . . . Even his name sends fresh agony coursing through me, and I bury my face into her neck, sucking in her unique, calming scent. It’s odd, we are strangers, but something about this feels right as she carries me, and as I press my face to her skin, it seems to help settle my heartache a little.

I feel safe.

My eyes close, and when I wake, I’m in a bed. I jerk upright, scrambling back, and she’s there, sitting on the edge with her hands out. “It’s okay. You’re safe,” she assures me in a soft voice.

I glance around the room, but I see no one else, and I relax.

It’s clearly a hotel, a nice one at that. I’m lying on a huge, white, fluffy bed with a canopy above me. There’s a chair and table to the right, with open curtains showing the city and darkened sky.

It’s still night.

There’s a soft glow of a lamp, just enough to see her by. She’s in a tank top that displays impressive arm muscles intersectedby scars and some loose shorts. She watches me carefully, like I’m a wild animal.

I know she is a hunter, but I cannot seem to care.

She saved me and helped me say goodbye to Writ.

Writ . . . I bend over, gasping in agony, and her hand rubs circles on my back. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she soothes, and I find myself leaning into her again, her scent wrapping around me.

We stay like this for a while, and then she moves back, taking her warmth and scent with her. “Do you want some water or something to eat? You look weak.”

I hate that she’s right. I feel it.

I drained myself while trying to save Writ and free myself.

I’m running on empty, which is a dangerous place to be. It means my powers will soon spark out and start luring anyone close to me so I can feed. It happened once, and it’s the reason I hate men.

I tell myself he couldn’t help himself, it was my power, but even after he didn’t stop. I screamed and begged, and he cried and apologised, but he didn’t stop.

I hate men’s lust, and I hate men in general, but I don’t usually have much choice. I need to feed to stay alive and to keep Writ . . . Well, to stay alive.

Anger and hatred fill me as I admit the truth. “It won’t help. I need to feed.”

Her eyes widen, but she understands what I mean and hesitates. “Okay, how do we do that?”

I look away, shame filling me. “I can feed off anyone’s lust. I can go find a club or a willing man.” Even the thought sends a shudder of horror through me, but it’s the truth. Men are strong enough to withstand my feeding, plus I don’t mind draining them even if I hate the taste. They deserve it.

I don’t know what she sees, but she frowns. “You said you hated men, right? I saw your fear of them, so it cannot be pleasant.”

“It’s not, but I don’t have much choice. If I don’t feed, it will call out to them anyway.” Horror fills me. “It’s better to be in control of it.”

“Okay . . . Maybe I can help.” I jerk upright, and she watches me then seems to decide something as she nods. “Could you feed on my lust?”

I nod, something pounding in my heart as she observes me. She’s quiet, and I hesitate. We both know what the other isn’t saying.

She could fuck me so I can feed.

She might not want that though. I have a feeling she is the type to sacrifice her own wants and needs to help others. For some reason, the idea that she could fuck me to help me without wanting me makes me want to cry.

“I can feed as you . . . fuck someone if you want. It doesn’t have to be me,” I admit.

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