Page 83 of Flirting with Darkness

They go to the human world?

"Do you know a way to get there?" I ask, forgetting to sign.

Lurette can either hear or read my lips, because she replies,We cannot show you. The master would not abide it. We would be punished.

Hope dies in my core. I'm not about to ask them to incur his wrath, even for my freedom.

But there is a way to get back home...

The maids escort me once they're satisfied with my appearance—and my hygiene. We walk through the rows of tents, getting closer and closer to the magnificent castle. I can barely look away from it.

At long last, we reach a field where one single, hectare wide white canopy floats, without any pole—that I can see.

Candles gently dance near the top of the shading, providing a dim light. Underneath, hundreds, if not thousands of people dance, and sing, and drink to the rhythm of deep beats I feel under my bare feet, and in my core. This is the outdoor party to kill every rave, every garden wedding, every concert.

I want to join them. I need to join them.

To my bafflement, I don't stand out. Oh, some ladies are dressed in respectable gowns, covered from neck to toe, but there are others like me, and worse. One blue-haired, tall beauty with a deep tan seems to have fabric everywhere except where propriety recommends: silk covers her arms and shoulders, her midriff and thighs, but her pierced nipples and her hairless pussy are completely bare.

I laugh and grin. Catching my eye, she winks at me, before returning to her conversation with a handful of men and women, all almost as daringly clad.

One of her companions, a tall man with golden blond hair brushed back and eyes made of molten amber, turns to me, and stares. It makes no difference that the gorgeous, model-like fairy woman at his side is for all intents and purposes, naked.

I've never seen a man such as him. If the first fae I saw had been him rather than Cissa, Eochan, and the other Night Hall dwellers, I would have suspected that he wasn’t human, clueless though I was. At the very least, I would have guessed he had a lot of work done to be that symmetric, glowing, and airbrushed.

His face is perfection: a strong jawline and a full mouth made to be kissed over and over again. His defined lean muscles are on display, as he wears a dark skirt low on his hips and falling to his feet.Despite his choice of accoutrement, there’s nothing effeminate about that man—not with the abs, cut in the marble of his hard torso, the cleave on either side of his hips leading down to his narrow waist, and his wide, strong shoulders. He's Adonis made flesh.

When he raises his glass high, saluting me from a distance, I flush and wave awkwardly, sheer, giddy delight fluttering inside me.

At least until my escorts lead me to Jaynus, and escape after a deep bow.

Only then do I remember all the reasons why I want to be anywhere but here.

I’m not a guest at this party. I’m a piece of meat on display, as surely as the roasts and cuts on the buffet.

“Ah, here she is.” Jaynus shows all his teeth as he lifts his head and announces proudly, “My new acquisition, freshly plucked from the mortal realm.”

I hate him so much I could plunge a knife between his shoulder blades and sleep like a baby.

10

DARINA

I’ve dealt with my share of jerks.

I have strawberry-blond hair, for one, and that seems to give everyone the authorization to be as leery, creepy, and disrespectful as they like. I used to dye my hair as a teen, but the color never lasted long, leaking off my hair by the third wash, and spending hundreds of dollars for a week or two is ridiculous.

I also happen to appear athletic, though I certainly don’t exercise nearly enough to deserve it. Growing up, I gravitated toward unpopular sports like archery and fencing. I haven’t had the chance to keep up with either hobby since I started college. My parents offered to pay for my lessons, but between my classes, my research, and the conservatory, I simply don’t have the time. If I sweat, these days, it’s because I’m dancing—or, occasionally, fucking. To the assholes of my world, having a slimmer body is yet another invitation to ogle and harass me to their heart’s content.

Scarlett, with her auburn locks and soft curves, doesn’t get pestered nearly as much as I. Oh, many men and women do a double take when she walks past. She’s stunning, though no one can convince her of it. But while many look, it is rare for anyone to approach her with the clear conviction that her body is meant for their entertainment. She gets the shy looks, the clever lines, the drinks sent from the other side of the bar. I get the gropers, the men sliding behind me on the dance floor and rubbing their bodies against my back without asking, the bastards forcing a kiss, or more.

She’s often said she envies the attention I attract. I envy the peace she can savor.

In a life of attracting that kind of animal, Jaynus takes the cake. He’s a hundred times worse than the man I had to knee in the groin when I was fifteen after he cornered me in an alley, and the football player who snuck into my room during his study session with Scarlett, though that moron only dropped his pants while I was wearing a face mask and painting my toenails.

Jaynus announced his ownership of me loud and proud, and most of the friends in his immediate circle don’t seem to care, though a couple frowned and twitched uncomfortably.

My eyes return to the beautiful, bare-chested man, wondering if he heard.

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