Fae Fiefdom - M. Sinclair Page 0,14

all, I’d known both of them my entire life. Yet, it seemed like the two of them were worse at communicating with one another than communicating with me. Maybe I would bust them on it. Force the situation.

Was it even worth the effort? You would be gone soon, Ophelia.

Pulling away from the curb, I decided that I might as well run to the library before heading home. I smiled in slight anticipation. Along the river that crawled through our town was a library that hung over one of the many jagged cliffs that lined the cavernous space. I could see the Gothic structure was rather busy today, but considering it was a Sunday and everyone had homework, it wasn’t completely surprising. The library was a social experience for some of my classmates. Not a haven, like it was for me. I loved reading and if I had to choose between going out or reading, I usually chose the latter. I parked my car, threw up my hood over my thick dark hair, and got out, keeping my gaze on the river.

They’d found three bodies in it this year alone.

I’d seen them. Unintentionally of course, but when you had important people floating in and out of your house, you came across things. Our police chief, Anderson Mae, was my stepmother's best friend and the gruesome photos had been on our coffee table in a folder. Of course, the moment the two had been out of sight, I had looked through them. As I said curious and, okay, it wasn’t unintentional, clearly.

The bloated yellowish corpses looked strangled and covered in bruises. Apparently, the victims had been ‘passing through’ but I never heard their identities, so who actually knew. I didn’t know anyone well enough in this town to be able to identify them.

I grunted as my shoulder smacked into someone. Stumbling back, I caught myself before I fell on my butt. Shaking my head, I straightened myself. My eyes snapped up as a pair of emerald green eyes, speckled with pale gold, looked over me with a mixture of heat and concern. A large amber hand wrapped around my waist as I came face to face, more like chest, with the one person I’d been avoiding like the plague the past few weeks.

Kirin Bhatt.

A devastatingly handsome transfer student that had moved here less than a year ago, from Delhi, India to live with his uncle. I’d heard the poor man, Dev was his name, I believe, was really sick. The fact that Kirin was taking care of a family member was attractive on its own.

To top it off, he had a slight southern British accent because apparently, he’d attended a boarding school, for most of his life. However, whatever mild-mannered tendencies they had taught there had been lost on him very clearly, because his energy was aggressive and lethal. Especially when you were pressed right against his deliciously muscular chest and his corded arms were wrapped around your waist.

This was bad. This moment was very, very bad. I needed to get far away from him but when I tried to step back he kept his arm around me, his angular face and dark styled hair distracting even in this gloomy weather. Fuck. He even smelled good, like myrrh or something as equally rich and intoxicating, his dark tattooed fingers digging into my skin the longer I chose not to say anything, a low rumble coming from his chest.

So you are probably wondering what the issue is, huh?

Well, this stunning 6’4 muscular…lickable…I have problems, I’m sorry. This guy. Kirin. He had been the one to um, pop my cherry as they say. It hadn’t even been planned, like some couples at my school. Yeah, I thought that was weird as well, for the record. But really, I had been in zero rush to lose my virginity at the time because I knew who I had wanted to lose it to, but unfortunately, Bard still seemed to want nothing to do with what I was serving up. His loss.

Anyway, I had been in Kansas City, trying to ‘celebrate’ my birthday on April first, despite it being a school night and knowing I would be doing it alone. At least, I had assumed I would be drinking mostly alone. Instead, I had seen him there, and considering we had worked on a few projects together, we’d started drinking and talking, realizing we were both alone.

We probably shouldn’t have drunk as much as we had that