Page 13 of Dark Sun (Wicked Lovely 6)

“Ouch,” Gina interjected. “Sorry.”

“Thanks . . . but Dad died, and so we move. Mom telecommutes or travels for work stuff and Aunt Ida is an old hippie, so . . .” Katherine shrugged. “Here we are.”

As Katherine had spoken, Gina started walking. Katherine had fallen in step, trying not to look at the random faeries in the desert. They watched, but not attentively. It was more of a casual notice.

And so, Katherine thought that everything was going to be fine. She’d made a friend. She was outside. It was all a refreshing change—right up to the moment when Gina stopped at a campsite.

For whatever reason, no faeries were within the light of the fire that was burning in a metal ring, chasing away the edge of the desert cold.

Around the fire were assorted people. Three girls. Five boys. All were around eighteen to twenty-five if she had to guess.

Then Katherine turned.

The problem was right there. A man, half-hidden by shadows. Dark hair. Dark skin. Shadows made flesh. Katherine had a fleeting thought that he was only visible because of the shadows. Had the fire extinguished, he would become one with the night. The shadow-made man clearly wasn’t human, but unlike every other faery she’d met, he wasn’t hidden from sight. He was flaunting his otherness like there was no threat in it.

He looked like every terrifying thing Katherine had ever wanted.

Run!

Katherine stared at him, as he watched her with the sort of focus that she’d seen from the random rattlesnakes that seemed omnipresent in the Southwest.

“Blink,” Gina whispered. Then she proceeded to introduce everyone there.

As she did so, Katherine nodded, replied, and generally tried to sound like less of weirdo than she was. And all the while, she tried not to ask whyhewas watching her—because the truth was that she already knew why he watched her.

The stranger watched because Katherine wasn’t human.

Just like him.

But she couldn’t speakthosewords.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Gina said, “And this is Urian.”

He stood then, unfolding himself from the lawn chair as if it were a velvet sofa. He wore gloves, which she only just noticed. Any hint of doubt as to what he was would have vanished even if her ability to recognize the fey was suddenly absent. Katherine had watched her own father move that way, had seen fey her whole life. No mere human could move so gracefully. Urian, as with most fey, seemed to ripple to his feet, as if every muscle movement was a conscious choice and the air was as fluid as water.

Why gloves?

He took a step forward, eyes locked on her, and Katherine needed to run.

They chase, she reminded herself.

He took another step, and the fire highlighted features too perfect for mortals.

What do they see when they look at him?she wondered.

To her, Urian was possibly the most striking faery she’d seen. He was taller than her, a mix of taut muscles and straight spine; he held himself with the grace of a street brawler. There was a rawness to him that Katherine would typically find alluring. Add to that, cheekbones that could cut and lips curled in a smile that looked like laughter. Katherine was holding back a sigh.

The fey typically used glamours to hide or alter their appearances, though, so she wasn’t sure what he looked like to regular people.

“It is an honor, Katherine.” He pulled off a black leather glove before he reached for her hand.

Katherine jerked her arm back, out of his reach. She didn’t touch people often or easily,couldn’tbecause of what she was, and she had no idea what that would do to a faery.

Could they become addicted, too? Was it slower? Faster?

“Don’t,” she whispered, even though the thought of touching him, touching another faery, made her tremble.

And he smiled, a twist of lips that was more feral than not.

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