ABBY
The man's smile grows, his full lips spreading to reveal a set of perfect teeth. He's still holding his keys, and he shoves them into his pocket before clasping his hands behind his back.
I spare a glance at the door he just emerged from. The front is almost all glass, but, like all the others, I can't see inside. Is this where he lives? I thought these buildings were businesses, but maybe they're apartments.
Most likely, they're a mixture of the two.
The man turns, following my gaze, and my cheeks redden as I realize I've been caught. Ignoring my warm face, I give him my full attention once more.
"How can I help you?" he asks.
I half expected his voice to sound light and airy, something otherworldly to match the rest of his complexion, but it's surprisingly normal. It's deep and masculine, pretty much what I expect a human man of his size to sound like.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, hoping he can't sense my nerves.
"I'm hoping you can give me directions," I say. How good are his ears? Can he hear how loud my heart is beating in my chest? I fiddle with my fingers as I continue. "I'm trying to get to Elora."
I'd like to know about the Delysum tea, but I'm afraid asking about it will raise suspicion. If it's genuinely as rare as Lill says, I'm sure there aren't many people looking for it. I also don't know what people drink it for, so I don't have a good excuse for why I want to purchase some.
What if the faeries consider it some sort of drug—like what steroids are to humans? Or what if it's outlawed?
I'll wait until I have a better idea of how things work here before prying.
The man raises a brow and pushes a strand of hair out of his face. His purple eyes are piercing, the color so much more vibrant than Lill's have ever been. They were similar to this color when we were children but were never quite this magnetic.
It takes everything I have not to gawk.
"Elora?" he asks. "How are you planning on getting in?"
What is that supposed to mean? I intended to waltz on in just as I did here, but I'm very quickly getting the hint that that's not a reasonable expectation. Is the city guarded off or something? Maybe they don't allow humans inside?
That's going to put a damper on my plans.
Not wanting to look confused, I plaster a broad smile on my face and let out a short laugh.
"I have my ways," I joke.
"Is that so?" the man says, playing along. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, but it's not a nervous gesture. He exudes confidence, which I suppose is easy to do when you're in his position. He's got the power right now, and I'm sure he knows it.
His gaze travels to my backpack straps, and I nervously grab hold of them. Do they not have backpacks here? Maybe he's thinking about robbing me. I need everything in this bag—it's all I have to my name, and I'm not letting somebody take it without a fight.
I'm not above biting.
"And how do you intend to get to Elora?" the man continues, finally looking away from my backpack. "I sure hope you're not intending to walk."
I shrug, not giving a verbal answer. It's none of his business, and I just need him to point me in the right direction.
"It's a day's drive from here," he finally says.
Well, fuck. Assuming their vehicles work as ours do, each day of driving has got to be at least a month of walking. I don't have time for that, which means I have no option but to find a ride. I doubt they have taxis here.
The man cocks his head to the side, and I have the feeling he's trying to read me just as much as I'm trying to read him. Can he tell something is off about me? Is it peculiar that I don't know where Elora is? It's the capital, but I'm sure I'm not the first person here to have a lousy sense of direction.
I lick my lips, faintly aware that I'm beginning to sweat.
This isn't as easy as I thought it would be.
The man clears his throat. "Prince Kieran will be in Janta next week for Praxis, so I imagine several transportation vehicles to and from Elora will be available," he says.
That sentence makes absolutely no sense to me.
Despite my attempts to remain calm, my panicked confusion must show as the man furrows his brows. He looks confused by my confusion, which is never a good thing when you're trying to remain inconspicuous.
"Where are you from?" he asks.
I tighten my grip on my backpack straps.
"I'm from the human realm, as I'm sure you can tell," I say, trying to keep the conversation light as I gesture to myself. "My family came here when I was young, but we never settled in one place for long."
I'm straying slightly from my rehearsed lie, but I'm getting the feeling that if I try to say I'm from a small city down south, he will pry. I'll have to make up a city name, and that won't turn out well.
The man glances at his hands, drawing attention to them. I stare at his biceps for a moment longer than necessary before shifting my attention to his hands, and my confusion spikes when I realize he's wearing gloves.
They're flesh-colored and thin, and they're so discreet I wouldn't have noticed he had them on if he hadn't looked at them.
"You're a poor liar," he eventually says.
I'm already painfully aware of that. Still, I remain silent, waiting for him to continue speaking. I'm not trying to dig myself into a deeper hole by trying to explain myself.
I haven't done anything wrong, and I don't have to answer to this man.
"You're not wearing gloves," he points out.
Immediately, I clasp my hands behind my back, hiding them from his view. I would've brought a pair if I knew it was part of their culture, and I mentally curse Lill for the hundredth time today. She left out much more than I realized, and I'm wholly unprepared.
What a bitch.
The man meets my eye before slowly removing his right glove, revealing a clean, well-manicured hand. He then removes his left, his movements painfully slow. What's he doing?
Does he need his hands free in order to cast some magical spell on me? The magic swirling in the air between us doesn't react to his exposed skin, so I don't think he's doing anything with it, but I'm very quickly learning this world isn't anything like I thought it would be.
It's not the most comforting realization to make.
The man tucks his gloves into the same pocket he put his keys earlier.
"Does this mean you're open to being touched?" he asks.
I recoil, my reaction involuntary. What the fuck are my lack of gloves signaling to the people here? If I don't get myself murdered or thrown into jail, I'm going to fucking kill Lill.
My chest feels heavy, and I nervously glance around. There's nobody else on the street, not one fucking faerie to be found in any direction. I should have never captured this man's attention, and if I were smart, I'd have done more lurking before trying to approach anybody.
This man clearly has some sort of agenda, and being alone with him makes me nauseous. If he tries anything, I'll scream.
I'll be damned if I go down without a fight. I'll kick and scream and bite, and if he tries to rape me, I'll soil myself. I doubt he'll want to deal with that mess.
There's a knife in my bag, and if I make it out of this interaction alive, I will be shoving it into the waistband of my leggings. I should have done that before stepping foot into this town, but there's no way I'll be able to grab it now.
It's buried at the bottom, underneath my sweatshirt and all my food.
The man abruptly steps back, his eyes growing wide. He looks nervous, which isn't a reaction I'm expecting. I'm so confused I could cry.
"Are you not searching for a mate?" he asks.
A mate? That term is popular in the romance books I enjoy reading, but there's no way he means it in the way they use it. Lill's listened to me talk and complain about my books hundreds of thousands of times, and there's no way she wouldn't have mentioned faeries having mates.
That would be an absurd thing never to bring up, especially when we've had conversations about them a million times.
The man runs a hand through his hair, still looking confused.
"You're not wearing gloves," he points out again.
If this is the reaction my bare hands will get, I need to find a pair of gloves as soon as possible. I'm not against seducing a man if it'll help me get to Elora and find that damned plant, but I don't want to be walking around signaling to the faerie realm that I'm a prostitute.
No wonder he was asking how I'd get into Elora. I bet the capital is where all the royals and wealthy people live, and they probably don't want women openly soliciting themselves on the street.
"Have dinner with me?" the man abruptly asks, changing the subject. "I'll answer your questions, and I'll give you a pair of gloves."
I scrunch my brows, having trouble believing and trusting him. I've known him for two minutes and he's already asking to touch me. That's unhinged behavior.
The man sighs quietly before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his gloves.
"I'm Samuel," he introduces himself. "And I didn't mean to frighten you. Unmated faerie males always wear gloves, and it's tradition to remove them when encountering a woman with bare hands. It signals she's open to finding her mate."
His voice grows quiet, and he looks mildly uncomfortable as he rubs the back of his neck.
"You'll need to wear gloves if you don't want men to think you're flirting with them," he explains. "And you should know that faeries don't care what kind of trouble you got into in the human realm. Being honest that you're here to escape punishment will be better received than your half-concocted, transparent lies."
I press my lips together, unsure what to say. Samuel has no problem filling the silence for me.
"Only the elders are strong enough to open the portals, anyway, and it's practically treason to question their judgment," he continues. "Nobody will pry into how or why you're here."
My mind is racing a million miles a minute. So this guy thinks I'm on the run from the humans and was brought here by an elder? Neither of which could be further from the truth, but I'm sure not going to tell him that.
He just gave me the perfect alibi.
It does make me wonder what the hell is up with Lill, though. She's definitely not an elder, but I'm not going to expose her by asking who else can open the portals. Watch her be some long-lost princess or something.
I'd shit myself. And then I'd kill her for keeping it a secret for so long.
"How about that dinner?" Samuel repeats his earlier invitation.
I hesitate, still not liking the way he asked to touch me earlier. It may be a common question amongst the faeries, and I may have accidentally provoked it by not wearing gloves, but it was still unnerving.
"Where do you want to touch me?" I ask.
He knows I'm new here, so there's no point in pretending to know anything about their customs. Besides, I'm not going to agree to a damn thing until I'm sure he isn't going to try and shove his hands down my pants the second we finish eating.
I'm sure I can get my questions answered by somebody else, and I'll find a store and steal a damn pair of gloves if I need to.
Samuel gestures to my hands.
"Mate bonds are triggered by touch," he says. "Traditionally, it's an intimate one, a caress of a cheek or a kiss, but I will know by feeling your hand."
I suck my cheeks into my mouth, mulling over his answer. He buys me food, answers my questions, and gives me a pair of gloves, and all I have to do is let him touch my hand? That sounds too good to be true.
"Touch my hand with what?" I pry.
Samuel's cheeks turn a light shade of red as he realizes what I'm asking. If he tries telling me I've got to put my hand on his dick, I'm out of here.
"With my hand," he clarifies. "Are humans usually this crass?"
I shrug. "Some of us are."
I'm okay being crass if it prevents me from being taken advantage of. It's a small price to pay.
Samuel shakes his head, still waiting for my response, and I think it over before giving a curt nod. I'm not in a position to turn down food and answers, and the gloves will be helpful if they prevent this conversation from happening with anybody else in the future.
"I can do dinner," I say. "But I can't stay for long."
Samuel grins, looking awfully pleased with himself, before stepping to the side and gesturing for me to walk alongside him.
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I love Samuel
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