Bad Fae | romantasy | Bad Fae #1

Chapter Three

"What about him?" the fae asked lazily, rhetorically. "He is indolent and foolish. Rude. Arrogant beyond belief. A shining example of humanity." It seemed fae were as adept at sarcasm as humans. No doubt, the truth in his words were in what the fae believed to be the nature of humanity.

I scoffed humourlessly. "Because the fae are so much better."

I ran into him. Literally ran into him where he'd turned and stopped and waited for me to run into him. My body hummed at that briefest of touches and I slammed it down into the abyss where I could pretend to ignore it.

When it felt like my cheeks weren't going to burst into flame, I looked up at him.

He was waiting, expectantly, with the air of a man who had never had to wait for anything in his life. He looked about ready to kill me for that slight alone. Fae were fickle creatures. Their moods shifted with less motivation than the wind. They were pure whim. Fancy. And pleasure.

Everything was pleasure to them.

Whether in eating and drinking.

Dancing and parties.

Killing and mayhem.

Or fucking.

They lived for their own agendas, and nothing could sway them once they'd made up their minds, except a bout of changing whim on their part, something else to offer up as much or more enjoyment. And even then, that was said to be incredibly rare.

"Fae are better than humans, mortal," he snarled, his voice wrapping around me as though tightening shackles across my arms. "I need not waste my breath explaining to you all the reasons why. It is late and there are things out here that would be very happy to eat you if you linger." He gnashed his teeth, menace flickering in his eyes and I actually took a step back.

I considered taking another, but an invisible wall was suddenly behind me.

"Uh, uh," he tutted, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "No running now, mortal. I would so hate to pick up the splattered pieces of your body and have to put them back together again before we could play."

I actually gulped.

Fae in general were as terrifying as they were beautiful, but other than the most fleeting of passing interest, none had ever really bothered about me beyond the bored politeness required when my father deigned to remember to introduce me.

Save one.

Him.

He who stood before me and now held my life in his hands.

That life felt unbelievably fragile, the noose around it now seeming stalwart and immovable. Like the very roots of the tallest mountain. It – he – had been here long before my birth and would remain, cold and indifferent, until long after my death.

"Will you leave my father to believe I ran away and died?" I asked, pushing that insolence.

"Would that not be preferable?" he replied indolently.

"I did not think you were at his court long enough to know my preferences."

"I have spent enough time among courts, mortal, to be adept at reading them like a book in one glance."

"Oh, yes?" I said, feigning interest as I picked my way over long and twisting roots that seemed hell-bent on tripping me up. "My trip down memory lane probably didn't hurt either, did it?"

"I suggest you keep up, Milesian," was all he said in answer to that.

And I tried to keep up. But the forest was parting for him as easily and gladly as my legs were sorely tempted to do for him. On the other hand, it treated me the way my legs should want to treat him.