Page 15 of Dark Sun (Wicked Lovely 6)

The truth was that these few mortals weren’t his bedmates at all. He was careful with them, and he’d learned when to depart. He knew the signs well enough. His own mother had been faery-struck. Thelma Foy might have denied it, but Urian had caught her staring into the shadows often enough. He knewwhoshe sought. He knew who was responsible for her sorrow. Then he’d seen his niece, Moira, flee to her own death when she was faery-led.

No, Urian would not torment or kill these oranymortals. His rage was saved for the real monsters. His own kind. His father. The ugly truth was that after agancanaghbedded a mortal, the mortal weakened when he left. His skin was the drug they couldn’t find again. His touch was the poison they craved until they looked like the mortals who withered from the drugs that were prevalent in the mortal world.

Urian worked rather hard not to be a killer of mortals—although he saw no need to tell Katherine that just now. Her temper was scintillating.

He leaned closer and whispered, “Was that why you wouldn’t let me touch you? Are you afraid I’ll be irresistible?”

“No.” She gave him a cold smile.

Urian tensed. Either she could lie with no ease, or he hadn’t correctly guessed why she flinched away from him. “Come closer then.”

“Over your dead body.”

He laughed. Typically, he exerted the influence his kind always did on mortals—and halflings. Urian had learned that even the fey felt his allure, so they scurried to obey. Not her, though. Not the halfling who currently stared at him as if she wasn’t sure whether flight or fight was wiser. His already consuming interest flared hotter.

“Will you run?” he asked.

A part of him that felt more feral even than the worse of the fey hoped she would.

“From some creep who has hisfriendsenthralled? No.” Katherine scoffed, adding enough fervor to her lies that a lesser man might be convinced.

“Are you certain? You look like a runner to me . . .” Urian watched her fight the urge to run, her body tense and poised for flight. The urge to fight him was a curious thing for a young woman who was clearly not as human as she pretended.

A flash of lightning inside her irises made her eyes nearly white for a moment. “I fight when I must. I don’t run.”

Urian pressed, “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost, Katherine. Do I remind you of someone? Or something?”

She didn’t reply to him at all this time, and he had to wonder if there was a limit to how often she could lie successfully. Was it causing her pain? He wasn’t as awful as his father, of course, but a part of him understood that he wasn’t playing fair.

Another part of him didn’t care. He wanted the lightning, the thrum of her hunger in her pulse, the way she parted her lips ever-so-slightly when he scored a reaction.

“Do you find me frightening for someotherreason?” he asked, staring at her with increasing interest as each moment passed.

“No.” Katherine swallowed hard at this lie.Thatwas interesting. She was mortal enough to speak an actual lie.

“You do that convincingly,” he admitted with respect. It was not a trait he shared.

“What?” She stared at him, chin tilting almost subconsciously. Whatever faery had sired her was one with shadows.

“Lie. Does it hurt?”

“Why would it?” Katherine was ready to fight. Her posture shifted slightly. She slid her left foot to the side, widening her stance as if steadying herself for an impending fight.

He saw no weapon, and a feral side of him—one that was very much Dark Court—liked the idea that she was willing to fight hand-to-hand.

“I suppose most of our kind don’t admit to you that we see you for what you are,” he said, voice pitched lower so as to keep their conversation secret. “Maybe you think we don’t notice you . . .”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Katherine swallowed hard again, but she still successfully murmured another of her lies.

“Liar.” Uri stepped up closer to her, hoping that she might strike him if provoked enough. “And you’re wondering what to do . . . do you expose our little secret to these mortals? Do you wonder if they’ll defend me?”

Almost against her will, she asked, “Would they?”

“What if I send them away? Give you the answers you so desperately need? Would that change the temper in those pretty brown eyes?” Urian reached out to brush her hair away, to touch her.

Katherine stopped him, knocking his hand away with a strike of her forearm. “Don’t touch me. No one touches me. It’s . . . not safe.”

At that, Urian suddenly had more questions than he could fathom.Not safe?What exactly caused a pretty half-faery woman to be dangerous to touch? Had she been told lies? Or was she correct? Whatever the reason, it did nothing to erase his interest in her.

---