Touch (Touched by the Fae 3)

I shrug.

“How old do you think I am?”

Weird question. And, shit, I don’t know.

“Thirty-five?” I guess.

“Three hundred and six.”

My jaw drops.

He goes on as if he hasn’t just shocked the hell out of me.

“The fae are immortal. They can die, of course. Anything can die. It takes a lot to kill a creature from Faerie. So long as someone like us crosses the veil into Faerie from time to time, we can live just as long as a full-blooded fae.”

Add that to something else I didn’t know. Not only the earth-shattering revelation that, as a halfling, I could be immortal like Nine—but that he’s telling me all of this for his own reasons.

I need to know what they are.

“Why are you doing this? Why me?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but halflings aren’t really welcomed in Faerie. The fae think of humans as disposable. Pets. Even if fate says something different, most fae would rather take a consort than mate with a human. Even then, they never have children and, if they do, they rarely survive. We’re unique, you and me.”

“There’s gotta be more halflings floating around.”

Gillespie shakes his head. “In my three centuries, you’re the fourth one I met. And,” he adds, “the only female.”

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.

I huddle in the corner, slinking beneath my oversized black hoodie as the man lets his gaze roam openly over me, head to toe. I’ve seen that look before on men even older than Gillespie—well, not really, but they looked older than he appears. This time, it’s so much worse.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you,” he says again, his nasal voice dropping in pitch. He’s almost gargling on the words. “Make no mistake. You’ll be my bride.”

I almost throw up in my mouth.

“I won’t let a human woman dilute my bloodline.” His expression darkens suddenly, turning violent in a heartbeat as he spits out, “No fae female will have someone like me. My only choice is another halfling. It has to be you.”

No it fucking doesn’t.

“The fact that you’re the Shadow makes it even better,” he adds, the flash of darkness disappearing as he sits back in his seat, his unblinking blue eyes watching me closely from behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “I’ve heard some of the prophecy tied to your name. You’re supposed to take care of the Fae Queen. When you become my bride and take her throne, I’ll be the new king of Faerie. You will give me a son, start our legacy. The whole realm will have to bow down to me then.”

Lord help me, my psychologist is insane.

First off, no way am I killing Melisandre. I told Nine that. Told Rys that. Made sure my mom and dad knew… shit, I even told the queen that herself. And even if, somehow, me being the Shadow leads to her being demoted or something, that doesn’t mean I’m angling to be the new Fae Queen.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I’m not about to marry Gillespie, either. Kids? Uh-uh. Not even counting the fact that I already have a mate, but this guy?

Ah, hell no.

If he notices that I’m shocked—and totally disgusted—into silence, he doesn’t act like it. He keeps on talking, either oblivious or just plain not caring that I’m looking at him like he belongs in one of the asylum’s rooms.

“The fae watching over you hid you away before I could track you down. You were a child. I bided my time, waiting for you to get older. Once I finally discovered you were here, I had no choice but to get to you any way that I could.” He waves his hand up and down, gesturing to the fancy sweater, the pleated pants, the sensible shoes. “Aidan didn’t have a prayer, but Dr. Gillespie did.”

Wait a second. Is he saying—

I finally find my voice. “You came to work here… to get to me?”