Wicked Lovely (Wicked Lovely 1)

She bit down. It tasted like old cigarettes.

“Bitch.” But he didn’t remove his hand. He squeezed tighter until the inside of her cheek was pushed so tightly against her teeth that it bled.

The guy to her right laughed. “Guess she likes it a little rough, huh?”

Aislinn felt tears in her eyes. The arm around her was bruisingly tight. The hand over her mouth squeezed again, and she could taste fresh blood in her mouth. She tried to think, to remember what she knew about self-defense.

Use whatever you can. Scream. Go limp. She did, letting her weight droop.

He just shifted his hold.

Then she heard a growl.

Beside her was Deadgirl’s wolf, teeth bared. He looked like a big dog, but Aislinn knew what he was. Plainly visible to everyone and looking deceptively human, Deadgirl stood holding the wolf’s leash, letting him close enough to the three losers that it wouldn’t take much of a lunge to draw blood.

Her voice was frighteningly calm. “Remove your hands.”

The two guys who weren’t holding Aislinn backed away, but the one holding her said, “Not your business, blondie. Keep walking.”

The faery waited for a moment, and then she shrugged and let go of the leash. “So be it. Sasha, arm.”

The wolf—Sasha—ripped a gash in the guy’s wrist.

He shrieked and let go of Aislinn, clasping his bleeding arm. She dropped to the ground.

Without another word they ran, all three of them. The wolf sprinted behind them, nipping at their legs as they went.

Deadgirl crouched down. Her expression was unreadable as she asked, “Are you able to stand?”

“Why did you…” Aislinn flinched away as Deadgirl reached out toward her chin. “Thank you.”

Deadgirl winced at the words.

“I don’t know what happened.” Aislinn stared in the direction they’d run. Huntsdale wasn’t a bad city, maybe a bit rough in the late hours; maybe the lack of jobs and excess of bars made it wise to skip too many shortcuts through dark alleys late at night. Still, any sort of attack in the park…it was beyond odd. She caught the faery’s gaze and whispered, “Why?”

At first Deadgirl didn’t answer, then—avoiding the question—she reached her hand out slowly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

“Why were…” Aislinn stopped, bit her lip, and stood.

“I’m Donia.”

“Ash.” She offered a shaky smile.

“Come then, Ash.” Donia started toward the library, staying beside her, not touching, but too close for comfort.

Aislinn stopped in front of one of the columns that stood on either side of the door. “Shouldn’t you go find your, umm, dog?”

“No. Sasha will come back.” Donia offered what would be a comforting smile were she a human. Then she motioned toward the door. “Come.”

Aislinn opened the ornate wooden door, starting to calm down. The door to the library, like the columns, was at odds with the nondescript architecture that dominated Huntsdale. It was as if some city father had decided that they needed one beacon of beauty among the otherwise dingy structures.

She felt like laughing, not in amusement, but at the growing sense that the rules she’d lived by were suddenly off. It wasn’t faeries that attacked her, but humans. Rule #1: Don’t ever attract faeries’ attention. She had, though, and if she hadn’t, what would’ve happened outside?

Aislinn’s feet felt heavy; her stomach lurched.

“Do you need to sit?” Donia was gentle, steering Aislinn toward the hallway where the restrooms were. “It’s frightening, what they did.”

“I feel foolish,” Aislinn whispered. “Nothing happened, not really.”