Trapped (Imprisoned by the Fae 1)

10

I decide that the entire time we spend in the oubliette counts as day twenty-six.

Time loses meaning in the hole. It could be a couple of hours. It could be a couple of days. A few times, light appears a few feet above our head seconds before a satchel full of faerie food rains down on top of us. I never feel any cramps so the meals are pretty regular, but when that’s the only way to gauge the passing of time, I don’t bother.

I’m kind of preoccupied with something else.

So, yeah. The touch is a done deal. Accepting Rys’s obvious attraction for me?

That takes a little longer to come to grips with.

Because that’s what it is. I’ve been working hard to ignore this crazy draw I felt toward him and all it took was one touch to cause Rys’s shields to come crashing down. He… he wanted to touch me. And he liked it. The erection I felt under my lap as I curled up against him is a clear sign of that.

Now, I’m not a complete idiot. I know that any fae male would go hard with the amount of pleasure that passed between us with the touch magic. If it affected Rys anything like it affected me, he’d have to be dead below the waist not to react to it—no matter who was touching him.

No. It’s what happens after the buzz wears off. It’s in the way that he refuses to let me move away from him, insisting on keeping me close, even leaning in to nuzzle his face against my neck in a moment of weakness.

It’s in the way he softly calls me Leannán and promises that, no matter what debts he has to call in, I’ll never see the inside of the oubliette again unless necessary.

I cling to that. Knowing that I’ll survive this punishment and never have to live through it again… it makes it more tolerable. Plus, I have Rys. I don’t ask him how many times he took my place down here because I’m afraid of the answer. When he disappears from his cell, sometimes it’s for days at a time. How did he survive the shadows on his own?

With him for company, I can deal. It’s kind of peaceful once I push past my fear. While the hole itself is probably as big as my bathroom back home, Rys refuses to let me get too far away from his reach. We could probably each sit on opposing sides of the pit and not touch but, now that I’ve opened up that can of worms, he likes to keep me close.

I can’t say I mind.

We lay curled up together, Rys’s long, lean body the world’s best heated blanket. He shares his heat with me, keeping me cozy, making me feel safe and secure for the first time since I realized Faerie was a real place and I was trapped in it.

Because the dark makes it hard to know whether it’s night or not, I doze off whenever I’m tired instead of sleeping for long stretches of time. Even if he doesn’t, Rys lets me cling to him, stroking my hair until the soothing gesture lulls me to sleep.

He does that a lot. He seems amazed by the blue strands, even lifting a palmful of faerie fire so that he can get a closer look at it.

I’m not surprised at his honest interest. I’ve caught him peering at it a few times before now and I always thought it had to do with the unnatural color. Not that that really makes much sense since I’ve seen all kinds of strange-looking people during my time in Faerie, yet everyone seems to have a problem with the teal.

Jim did, too, I remember. It… actually was the reason behind the last fight we had before I stupidly stormed off and ended up walking through the fairy circle in the park near our apartment.

Well, no. It’s easy to blame that last fight on my hair. Jim’s never been a fan of how often I would experiment with my look, but he always conceded that it’s my body and I can do what I want with it. But when two weeks past before he noticed that I did such a drastic number on my hair, I knew then that what we had was over.

Jim stopped caring a long time ago. Looking back on it, I think I did, too.

Or, at least, that’s what I tell myself as I grow closer and closer to my scarred Seelie.

And, while everything between us has changed with a single touch, one thing hasn’t. If I try to get Rys to open up even more about his past, he goes stiff beneath me—and not in the good way. He reminds me of our bargain. I have no choice but to drop it.

Instead, we eat the meals they bring us and talk to each other about stupid shit. Rys gossips about the guards, a satisfied edge coming to his voice when he tells me stories that make me hate Dusk all over again. He tells me about the Fae Queen, his time serving her in the Seelie Court, and how he’s relieved that Oberon, the Summer King, is back on the throne instead.

He talks about what Faerie is like outside of Siúcra. I didn’t see much in my few days on the outside—though I don’t ever want to go to the Faerie market again—and I like hearing about the inns the guards frequent, the small villages tucked in the Faerie forest, and the mountains where the trolls live. Then there’s the fae cities split into the two ruling factions: the Summer land, home of the Seelie Court, and the Unseelie’s Shadow Court.

I know I’ll never get out of here, but he paints such a vivid picture, I’d like to see more of this world. The regret that slips into his voice tells me he misses it but, when I quietly wonder why he doesn’t try to leave, he goes eerily quiet. Only the way he slides his hand up my back tells me that he’s not angry with me—but the message is clear.

I don’t ask again.

We don’t talk about his imprisonment or his scar, either. He also doesn’t bring up his almost mate again, though I can’t stop thinking about her. And not because I’m jealous, even though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t, but because of Jim.

As I snuggle even closer to Rys, pressing my hand over his bare chest, running my fingers along his heated skin, I have this overwhelming urge to tell him about my… boyfriend? Ex? The man I used to love, but who’s been pushed further and further in the back of my mind as I fall for my cellmate?

Shit. Is that even what’s happening here? It was so much easier when Rys was being guarded. Gruff. Keeping me out. Now that he’s letting me in even a little bit?

I’m falling like a felled tree right after the lumberjack yells, “Timber”.