Wicked Lovely (Wicked Lovely 1)

“Definitely.” He sped up a little, and draped an arm over her shoulders.

The Summer King might have some competition.

You want to tell him that? “Oh, Keenan, love…her toy is yummy.”

Don’t be mean. The king’s good fun.

They all giggled again.

How much fun will he be with her around? You know how he gets.

I’ll volunteer to distract the mortal, so Keenan can woo her.

Mmm, me too. Look at all those rings on his face. Wonder if he has a tongue ring?

Once they were safely within the metal framework of Seth’s train, Aislinn let out a breath. The walk over had been like some medieval gauntlet with faeries watching and easing closer to them. They hadn’t touched her, not once, but Seth would have more than a few unexplained bruises the next morning. She was glad he couldn’t see them.

She hugged him, just a quick embrace before stepping away. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He uncoiled Boomer from the teakettle and lowered him into the terrarium.

“For them.” She hopped up on a counter.

Seth flicked on the switch for the power strip, turning on the warming rock and heat lamps for Boomer. “Tea?”

“Sure…Did you feel them?”

“Maybe.” He paused, swished water around in the teakettle. “At the library there was something…. Tell me about before, first—about that.” He gestured toward her bruised face.

So she told him. She told him about the guys outside the library, about Donia’s rescue and fury afterward when she talked to the bone-girl. She let her words tumble out, not holding back anything.

For several tense moments he stood there. His voice was strained when he asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Nothing happened, not really. Just scared me. I’m good.” And she was.

Seth, however, looked like he was struggling to stay calm. His jaw was clamped tightly shut; his features were tense. He’d turned away from her while he tried to relax, but she knew him too well for it to work.

/> “Seriously, I’m fine,” she assured him. “My face hurts where he grabbed me, but it wasn’t a big deal.”

Once when she was younger she’d seen a group of faeries drag a delicate-looking faery into a copse of trees in the park. The faery had screamed, awful shrieking sounds that echoed in Aislinn’s nightmares for months. Being grabbed and held against her will for a few short minutes wasn’t anywhere near what could happen.

“Donia saved me before it could turn into something bad,” she told him again.

“I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you….” He broke off, an unfamiliar panic in his eyes.

“It didn’t, though.” She wished she could erase his worry, so she changed the subject, “Now, about your faery encounters…”

He nodded, accepting her implicit need to change the topic. “How about we both write down what happened?”

“Why?”

“So I know it’s not my imagination or your suggestions.” He seemed unsure, and she couldn’t blame him. She couldn’t avoid the fey; he could. He had a choice, something she’d never had with them.

She took the pen and pad he offered and wrote: Pinched ass, library. Patted cheek, library. Licked neck, corner of Willow Ave. Poked, prodded, and tripped, Sixth Street, Joe’s Deli, crosswalk by Keelie’s house, under bridge. She looked up. Seth was staring at her growing list.

He flipped his paper over so she could see it: Pinched at the library. Shoved (?) outside the deli. Stumbled under bridge?

She let him take her—still unfinished—list.