grew up thinking were fables were our reality, the fae having shown themselves when the barrier fell. But Warwick Farkas was one we still put in the Santa Claus or zombie category. No one rose back from death as if nothing happened and was neither fae nor human. Necromancers and Druids were said to do it, but it was black magic…wrong…and it came with bad consequences. The person was not right. Hollow, soulless, and angry, they were slivers of their former self, forced to live but not actually alive, their bodies cold and awkward.
Warwick was not any of those, his blood ran hot, his presence so full of life it choked you.
I was sure the part of him about being brought back to life was highly exaggerated; the man was real. So real, he caused everything in me to vibrate violently. I felt lost and found at the same time. He was everything I imagined a legend would be: overwhelming and on another plane, high above us mortals.
“85230,” a familiar voice yelled out for Aron. Boyd’s figure moved toward us. My stomach twisted at the sight of him. Boyd’s eyes dipped to me, a sneer curling up his lip. “Awww, little fishy, I see you already found another fishy friend. How adorable.” To Aron he said, “You are in the laundry room.”
Aron’s shoulders rolled back, his nose wrinkling with disgust at the fae guard.
These two were so much alike—a very bad thing for Aron.
“Just hold her hand, and she will show you.” Boyd puffed up, getting into my face. “Isn’t that right, smelly little fish? You know how it is here. Who’s in charge.” He nudged me, making sure I felt his threat pressing into my hip. “Though I still need to break you in, put you on your knees.” His insinuation spread smugly over his face.
“Be careful,” I replied coolly. “Piranhas have sharp teeth and are known to bite…hard.”
“You do, fucking bitch, and you’ll know how it feels to have your intestines pulled out and stuffed down your throat.”
Aron lurched for Boyd, but I quickly moved in front of him, his chest smacking into my shoulder. Boyd’s gaze tracked our movements, his head tipping back in laughter.
“You are dumb as fuck.” He snickered at Aron. “Not a surprise with you humans. You better stick with her. She seems a bit smarter than you.” He stepped back. “Better hurry, you don’t want to be late on your first day.” He motioned for us to move. “After you.”
Taking a deep breath, I strode past him, catching sight of Lynx watching me from the door before stepping inside. I could never tell what she was thinking. Her gaze was always intense but neutral. I sensed many layers beneath it.
I went directly to my table, pulling out my pile of mending, not looking at either Lynx or Tess on either side of me, while Boyd heaved Aron over to Hexxus.
“85230,” Hexxus snarled at the new human, his gaze roaming over Aron like he was putrid food. “Station behind the other fish.” He pointed to a recently empty spot behind me, a victim in last week’s Games.
“What are those? Sewing machines?” Aron snorted. “Isn’t that women’s work?”
Holy fuck. Holy fuck. My teeth clenched together, my lids squeezing briefly at the silence following his statement.
The Aron I knew was back, his ego shoving common sense and everything I told him out of the way. He had never been truly opposed in his life and was the epitome of entitled—praised, coddled, and rich and only getting reprimanded with a stern voice or his back to a mat. All things he could walk away from and nothing really threatening. He had no common sense in the real world.
“I mean, isn’t there something more useful for me to do?” He glanced around, as though his comment was perfectly reasonable. “Build shit. I don’t sew.”
Hexxus watched him, expressionless, tension growing as Aron seemed to realize the shocked silence was pointed at him. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his gaze fluttered to me.
Then Hexxus’s head tipped back, and he released a howl, the kind of laughter that set my teeth on edge. Not one of us moved or breathed. Hexxus’s hand slapped down on Aron’s shoulders, shaking his head with humor. A smile twitched on Aron’s face, and he joined in a little on Hexxus’s laughter.
“Right?” Aron motioned toward the machines, chuckling with Hexxus. “I’d be better doing something physical. Us guys don’t have a clue how to use those.”