down from their hangings. Nobody’s nearby, and I don’t see anyone when I glance outside. I quietly slip out and shut the door behind me, exhaling heavily when I’m finally alone and away from the ruckus of the party.
The autumn air is chilly, but it feels nice against my skin. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the glass of the balcony door, relishing in the cool breeze and the sounds of the never-sleeping city. After several minutes, I open my eyes to take in the absolutely stunning view and all the flashing lights. Alistair and I live in a cute two-bedroom in Chelsea, and while it’s super nice—way nicer than anything either of us could have ever imagined when we were growing up—it totally doesn’t compare to Rian’s fancy Upper East Side apartment.
Feeling a bit calmer now, though not any less embarrassed or pathetic, I sigh and mumble to myself. “You’re such an idiot…”
“I hope you’re not talking about me.”
I jump in surprise at the voice and whip my head up, looking frantically around the balcony until my eyes land on a guy. It’s no wonder I didn’t see him at first. He’s sitting on the railing of the balcony, off to the side where there’s not very much light, with his feet hanging over the edge.
“I’m sorry.” I clear my throat. “I didn’t realize anyone else was out here.”
“I figured as much,” he says. He has a slight accent, like he might be French or Dutch, but it’s difficult to tell. That’s usually the case with supernaturals, especially the older and more traveled they are.
He stretches his arms above his head and turns like he’s going to get down. Instead, he stands up, balancing on the railing as he takes long, dramatic strides across it until he reaches my side of the balcony. There’s more light here, and I can see his features much more clearly as he gives me this smug little smile and jumps down so he’s only a few feet in front of me.
“Fae parties are the absolute worst, right? I still can’t decide if I hate Seelie or Unseelie parties more.”
I can’t help smiling at the stranger before me. Now that I can see him better, it’s obvious he’s a witch. He’s tall and thin with messy, coppery-red hair, dark eyes, and thick eyebrows. He’s wearing a vintage black suit and jacket buttoned up haphazardly. He’s barefoot and wearing a god-awful amount of jewelry—tons of layered necklaces, stacked bracelets, rings covering his fingers, and several earrings dangling from both ears. He’s cute, and a little arrogant. Most witches I’ve met are incredibly blunt, and I always find that so refreshing.
“Unseelie are worse,” I say. “They start off all prim and proper, and slowly throughout the night, they unravel into chaos and complete fuckery. At least with Seelie, they start off acting like savages. There are less surprises that way.”
“I suppose you’re right.” The witch grins. He looks me up and down quickly, though not in a vulgar way. “So, human girl. Did you come here hoping to convince someone to turn you immortal?”
He doesn’t sound rude or judgmental, but I still bristle at the question. “I have no desire to become immortal, thank you.”
“Is that so?” His grin widens as he crosses his arms. “So what, then? Just realized how incredibly stupid and dangerous it is to hang around supernaturals? You should go back to your monotonous human life and pretend to be ignorant while you still have the chance.”
“It’s a bit late for that.” I chuckle. Something about his presence and the directness of his words makes me feel at ease. In the back of my mind, I know that’s probably not a good thing, but I still find myself relaxing and letting my guard down. “Why are you hiding out here, anyway?”
He tilts his head and holds his pinky out to me. “Secret for a secret? I’ll tell you, but only if you tell me why you’re hiding out here first.”
Even more of my usual anxiety slips away. This is how things are supposed to be done in the supernatural world, and I’m relieved this guy is following the rules. I twine my pinky with his, and a tiny jolt of electricity shoots up my arm. I honestly don’t think much of it, since he’s a witch and I always expect supernaturals to use their magic around me.
The witch drops my hand like he’s been burned and narrows his