Who was always there for
me? Praising me when I did well, and showing his disappointment when I failed him?
Who was the only one who cared for me? Who did it all because I needed to know the truth about the fae if, as the Shadow, I had any chance of surviving until I came of age?
I might have ended up a damaged, wary halfling in the human world who has massive panic attacks when anyone tries to touch me, but I’m still freaking alive.
And I owe it all to Nine.
Is it any wonder why I spent my whole childhood and awkward teenage years crushing on him? He was my Shadow Man, my knight in a long, dark coat, the only person who was there for me. I always loved him, even when I hated him for leaving me after Madelaine died, and those same complicated emotions returned almost immediately after Nine reappeared in my life for the first time in six years.
After that night in the sewer, when I let him touch me and then I all but begged him to do it again, those feelings have only gotten more twisted and confusing.
I love him. I want to see him again.
I want him to touch me.
And, most of all, I wish I didn’t.
It’s like an addiction. Once I got past Nine actually physically touching me, all I remember is how good it felt. Instead of making me feel like I’m out of control, that I have no choice, his magic calmed me, soothed me, made me feel special.
It made me feel loved.
That’s pretty heady to someone who’s been abandoned, left behind, and tossed around her entire life. When I was a kid, Nine was the only one I could count on. The only one who was always there for me.
Now?
Now I want more from him. I want more than he’s willing to give me and that… that is the main reason why I force myself to keep from calling for him. When I promised Carolina that first night that I wouldn’t invite Nine in, I knew right away that it was a lie. I couldn’t go that long without seeing him.
I just needed the sting of his rejection to fade a little before I went back for seconds. His touch will wipe away the soul-crushing loneliness, the pressure of not knowing what my next move is gonna be, and the cocktail of fear and paranoia that, the moment I walk out of the Wilkes House again, the Fae Queen will appear and try to murder me before I get the chance to end her.
I miss Nine. I miss the way he calls me Shadow, and how he turns every conversation into a lecture because he’s convinced my ignorance when it comes to Faerie is going to get me killed. My Shadow Man, my first and best teacher… I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it, but he does—and I miss it.
I miss the way his brilliant silver eyes light up when he sees me. How he looks at me like I matter. How, now that I’m coming into my own power as the Shadow, now that I’m older, the power dynamic has shifted enough that—whether he meant to or not—he allowed me to pick up on our mutual attraction.
I made the mistake of telling Carolina about that once. Once. She was quick to remind me that the touch of a fae can do a lot to a human, depending on what the fae was after when they got their taste.
If I’m addicted to the way his touch made me feel, the fae crave it. Touch magic is like a drug. It makes the Faerie races believe they’re invincible—which, considering they only have a couple of weaknesses, that’s saying something. To get me to agree to let him touch me again, any fae could’ve used their magic to make me think that there’s something between us. If I thought Nine might be into me—and I let myself believe I still loved him, and in a totally different way than I did when I was a kid—then I’d be willing to give him permission to touch me as much as he wanted.
And maybe that’s true. Could be. I sure acted like a moron every time Rys came around after he branded me.
But this is different. I know it is. And for one important reason, too.
Rys touched me. He told me he’s in love with me. The Light Fae did whatever he wanted to show me that he wants the two of us to be mated.
I don’t love him, though. Even after he touched me, I never once felt a spark toward him. Sure, I wasn’t as afraid of him as I was right after he charmed Madelaine right to her death. I know that meant he charmed me, too, especially when he kept calling me Zella and compelling me to do things I never would’ve, but I don’t love him.
I love Nine.
I’m too fucked up to know what kind of love it is. We’ve got too much history, and I sure as hell have too much baggage. Romantic love? Platonic love? Brotherly? Something. I can’t put a label on it when I’m not even sure I’m going to see twenty-two at this point.
But, still, I definitely miss my Shadow Man. Carolina’s been a treasure trove of information these last few days, plus a huge help. No denying she has an ulterior motive, though. She’s eager for me to plot how I’m going to rise up against the Fae Queen.
Nine has more answers. I know he does.
He knew my mother. I’m willing to bet, if I confront him with my new pointy ears, that he knew I was also half-fae.
What else is he keeping from me?