Page 59 of Cursed Shadows 3

I have seen it before, in the humans on the street, humans I pass by in my visits to this land. Yet, I’m as stricken as though it’s the first time, because I never truly understood the purpose of that thing, what it really does beyond hooking the attention of its human.

I’m not alone in my intrigue.

Aleana can’t contain her curiosity anymore. She leans over the table, staring at the fone with the same wonder I wear.

Only Dare and Daxeel seem unfazed by one of their own expertly using this strange invention. I guess it’s that they simply don’t care.

Dare just wipes napkins at his hands and mouth.

Daxeel turns in his chair to lean against the wall, a better angle to slide his fierce gaze between me and his sister.

“I’ll go to a bar,” Dare decides and draws in Daxeel’s attention. They share a silent look, words unspoken in a heavy moment before he adds, “While we can.”

That decides it.

Daxeel’s jaw tightens even more, and he looks about ready to swipe out for a throat, any throat, the closest throat to his reach. But a heartbeat passes before he loosens his tense agitation with a curt breath. His grip on the back of Aleana’s chair firms.

I devour my ice-cream.

It’s not my absolute favourite treat in the human lands, since it’s so cold, but I scarf it down all the same.

Though I find I like it better now that it’s runny and warmer, a sweet, sugary soup of sorts.

Dare is the only other to finish the treat. The rest are left abandoned as we leave the shop behind.

Eamon leads us through the growing crowds that gather on the streets of Lun-dun.

The throngs of humans thicken the longer that we walk, so I know we’re prowling closer to the centre of this town.

Ridge keeps to his side, even once we reach the iron-arch entrance of a gardens after the better part of an hour. He keeps Eamon all to himself. Under the rush of moonlight, they walk the circle of a water fountain, their voices carrying as little more than low murmurs.

Aleana shadows Dare to the stone podium etched with inscriptions. He leans his shoulder on the statue that protrudes from an engraved podium and reads the inscriptions with a muted touch of interest.

And I stand on the edge of the shade cast over the path. Arms wrapped around myself, I soothe the pebbles of my flesh; a prickle that comes with the late night cold.

Daxeel advances on me like a shadow.

The familiar scent of almonds and fresh earth tickles my nose before the warmth of his chest draws near my spine.

A soft quiet sweeps us like a breeze. His relaxed breath rustles the hair at my ear; then the gentle graze of his fingertips over my arm. He brushes the fallen strap of my dress up along my pebbled skin, then gently tucks it into place.

My lashes flutter.

“Are you cold?” The natural gravel of his voice is subdued into something of a whisper, a murmur.

It warms the shell of my ear.

He has no coat to offer me, and his sweater—I’m sure—is not layered with another. If I take it from him, he will bear his naked chest to the humans. And in this moment, with his chest pressed gently to my spine, and the way he curves over me, his mouth hot on the bow of my ear, I don’t doubt he would give me the sweater off his back.

Before I can answer, before I can melt into him and feel the lie of his embrace, the dishonesties in his kiss, the betrayal in his tender touch, a female voice calls from the street—

“That ass in those jeans!”

My gaze cuts down the path, beyond the fountain, to the arched iron entrance of the gardens, and not a moment after, a two-part whistle hikes the air.

The sound draws in all gazes from the fae prowling the path.

Dare looks over the crown of Aleana’s head to the human who struts through the entrance. His lashes flutter before his jaw tightens.

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