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I’ve become a side character in my own life, and right now, I just want to escape.
If it wasn’t built on top of the fucking hellmouth, I’d probably want to live right next door.
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“Jesus,” I breathe. “Where’d you learn to talk like that?” “Prison,” he deadpans. He’s joking, right? He must be. Do I even care right now?
Like any self-respecting child of the 2000s, I’ve read my share of fantasy books. I’ve seen movies with aliens and monsters, with special effects so good they almost feel real. But there’s a big difference between watching a CGI creature on a screen and staring into the enormous, bug-like eyes of a very real humanoid goblin.
This has to be a dream—some really fucked up, roofie-induced nightmare because there’s no way I really fell straight into one of my fantasy books.
Would you rather that your one night stand kidnapped you and took you to a castle full of monsters, or that you’re really hallucinating in a mental hospital amidst a divorce-induced psychotic break?
I’m soaked, freezing, and about to throw up, which kind of rules out the possibility that this is a dream. That means that I’m actually standing outside a castle filled with goblins. I actually almost got eaten by a wolf. And the guy I picked up at a bar can actually fly. I’m not in fucking Kansas anymore.
Nana’s books are real, and somehow, I’m in one.
I guess it’s true what they say: things could be worse. As in, it sucks that your husband is a prick, but it could be worse. You could get kidnapped by your one-night stand. I’m this close to being the punchline in a sad standup routine.
Putting aside the very real possibility that this is some kind of Buffy season 6 fiasco and I’m really in a hospital somewhere, there are just so many ways the plan could go wrong.
He’s just so inhumanly handsome, even while glaring at me like I’m the cause of all his problems. It feels unreal. And worse, somehow he looks better today than I remember from last night. Maybe my brain superimposed an uglier face onto him so I could process the fact that I’d been abducted, coerced, and thrown into a possibly fatal bargain with a supposedly fictional character. Too bad my brain couldn’t do me the solid of holding on to that delusion.
“Hey! I have over $200,000 in student loans that says otherwise, buddy. I am almost unnecessarily educated.”
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“I liked you better when you were just some guy in a bar.”
“So did I, Peaches.”
“Can you just let me have this one? Hello, it’s a faerie train. This whole place is giving Hogwarts Express.”
“First, Ellender is real, now you think I’m part Fae? What in the Wattpad is going on here?”
Without thinking or taking a single moment to figure out what’s going on, I throw myself at Alix, shielding her with my entire body.
This asshole used his weird Fae powers to break into my Nana’s house! I guess that’s the least of my problems right now, but still. The audacity of this man.
I rub my fingers where he’d been holding them, suddenly feeling far more anxious than I was mere moments before.
“Hate to interrupt, but I don’t think we’re at the sexually charged banter portion of the show!” Jett yells.
He reaches for my chin and forces my eyes back up to his, literally holding my attention.
“I told you, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. As long as I’m breathing, no one will touch you.” I blink, sure for a second I must have misheard. God! Who says things like that?
He sounds unhinged, and…hot? I don’t like when guys have too much alpha male energy, and I definitely don’t go for roided-out psychopaths. So why am I suddenly warm all over?
“Shhh,” Dessa says, almost desperately. “Belle doesn’t swear.”
“Um, yes, she does. Whose fault do you think it was when I called my kindergarten teacher a cun—”
“You keep saying things that sound like you…I don’t know…care about me?” “I do,” he says flatly. My heart picks up a beat, pounding against my chest. “Without you, there’s no way to save my friends from Dyaspora. There’s not even a shred of a chance of breaking the curse. Of course I fucking care what happens to you.” He swallows thickly and takes another large step back. “You’re going to be late for dinner.”
I’ve never been more aware of how addicted to technology I am, until suddenly I’m living in basically 1750 and housework is starting to look like a fun and exciting alternative to staring at the walls.
I am calm. Healed. Not at all toxic.
Definitely not calm, healed, or rational.
point up at the sky as we begin our descent down the long stairs. “I wonder if these are the same stars that are on Earth or different ones.” Daemon tilts his head back and pushes his hair out of his eyes to better see what I’m talking about. After a second, he lets out a harsh breath. “I never thought about it.” “Maybe they’re the same, but in a different timeline.” “What?” “You know, like a string theory thing. What if all the worlds are next to each other. Or maybe this world is inside the other one. Ooh, if I walk through a bookcase, do you think I’ll see Matthew McConaughey?” Daemon is
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“But be careful what you call me, Peaches. Next time you say something like that, I’m going to take it as an invitation to spank you.”
As long as he’s around, I don’t need to be afraid of the curse or the Fae or even creeps like Foulo. Daemon won’t let anyone hurt me—physically, anyway. But emotionally is another story. I’m pretty sure I’m already doomed to get hurt—destroyed, even. My feelings are bound to crash and burn like our train car, and this time, there’s no jumping off.
Her gigantic gray cat is sticking halfway out of the shopping bag and I can see strands of tangled yarn sticking to his fur.
The craziest thing is, I can always tell when he’s outside versus when one of the guys is. Even with the door closed, it’s like I can feel his presence like a prickle on the back of my neck. Once I think I sense him leaving, and I rush to the door to find Kastian sitting outside in his place.
It was just a coincidence. I obviously can’t really feel Daemon’s presence…I’m clearly starting to lose it.
“Most conversations are just to fill silence. Silence has never really bothered me.” “That’s so Zen of you. Very Yoda.”
Odessa walks down to the breakfast parlor with me while Fox trails silently behind us, providing our scary dog privilege.
I don’t want to make her go into detail if she doesn’t want to, but there’s still a question that I can’t help asking. “So…sorry if this is rude, but why do you have legs?” In my head, Gretchen Weiner’s voice screams, Oh my God, Alix. You can’t just ask people why they have legs!
“I told you, I will always protect you. I warned him that the next time he touched you would be the last. You should have always known this is who I am.”
“Which is what—a psychopath?”
“Maybe. But only when it comes to you.”
“You feel like yourself, Ashwater?” Jett calls. “What’s my name?” “Fuck off,” Daemon growls. Jett grins. “That’s exactly right. He’s fine.”
