He began to circle me, looking me up and down like an exotic in a zoo. “And you thought I was the king. That’s why you tried to drag me through it with you. You just can’t get enough of killing me, can you? What’s the last thing you said to me?” He mocked in falsetto: “What’s the worst that can happen? I lead you into some trap and you die for however long it is you go away?”

I said nothing. I saw little point in trying to justify myself anymore.

“I imagine it got all your little romantic notions atwitter again, didn’t it?”

“Is ‘atwitter’ even a word?”

“Did you think we were star-crossed lovers, Ms, Lane? Did you need that excuse?”

He gave me that wolf smile and I thought, Right, star-crossed lovers with a double-edged sword. Because that’s what this man was. Sharp, edgy, dangerous. With no safe side. And, yes, actually, I had thought we were star-crossed lovers. But I wasn’t about to tell him that.

I turned to circle with him, meeting that dark, hostile gaze. “I thought we resolved this in the mansion, Jericho. It’s Mac.”

“It’s Mac when I’m fucking you. The rest of the time, it’s Ms. Lane. Get used to it.”

“Boundaries, Barrons?”

“Precisely. Where’s the king, Ms. Lane?”

“You think he calls me to check in? Says, Honey, I’ll be home for dinner tonight at seven? How the hell should I know?” Which was technically the truth. Even Christian would have had a hard time with that one. I didn’t know where all his parts were.

The concubine made a faint sound and we turned to look at her.

His eyes narrowed. “I’ve got to get her out of here. I won’t have the entire Fae race trying to get past my wards. I suppose we’ll have to protect her.” His distaste couldn’t have been more evident. If given a choice between having a razor-blade enema and protecting a Fae—had it been any other Fae than the all-powerful queen—Barrons would have willingly died a few times from internal bleeding.

But she was the one Fae he wasn’t willing to sacrifice—yet.

I was definitely up for moving her somewhere else; the farther from me, the better. I’d been worried that he might try to keep her at the bookstore and had been prepared to argue that, no matter how formidable his wards were, with the two of us coming and going constantly, she’d be left alone too much to guarantee her safety. “What do you have in mind?” I said.

Half a Dani Daily flapped on a streetlamp in the chilly night breeze. I plucked it off, scanned it for the date AWC, and did some hasty calculations. If it had been posted today—which it probably hadn’t, considering its condition—the date was March 23. Maybe a week later.

I read it and smiled faintly. She’d taken the bull by the horns while I was gone. The kidfeared nothing.

The Dani Daily

147 Days AWC

Dudes—Listen Up if You Wanna Survive!

A few simple rules and regs will keep you alive!

1. Skintight clothes or nothing at all! Don’t be bashful, don’t be shy. Don’t leave no place for a book to hide. The fecker’s on the rampage, has been for weeks! Need to be seeing with your own eyeballs ain’t nothing hiding on your peeps.

2. No splitting up! Do NOT go anywhere alone. That’s when it gets you! If you see a book, DON’T PICK IT UP!!!!!

3. Don’t leave your hidey-holes at night! Don’t know why, but it likes the dark. Yes, I’m talking about the SINSAR DUBH. I said it, you heard me. You dudes who ain’t been seeing my rags, it’s a book of dark magic created by the Unseelie King almost a million years ago. Past time you know the truth. If you pick it up, it will make you KILL EVERYBODY AROUND YOU, starting with the peeps you love. Start following the rules! No deviations, no stupid fecking

The bottom half had been torn off, but I didn’t need to see any more. I’d really just wanted to know the date. I’d missed her birthday. Chocolate on chocolate, she’d said. I’d planned to make her a cake myself. I’d throw a belated party for her, even if it was just the two of us.

Hardly something the Unseelie King would think about: birthday parties for humans.

“You might have all night, but some of us don’t,” Barrons growled over his shoulder.

I stuffed the paper in my pocket and hurried to catch up. We’d parked the Viper a block away. The queen wore a hooded cloak and was wrapped in blankets.

“You have all night tonight and tomorrow night and all eternity for that matter. So how long were you dead this time?” I asked, needling him.

The rattle moved in his throat.

I took a perverse pleasure in irritating him. “A day? Three? Five? What does it depend on? How badly you’re injured?”

“If I were you, Ms. Lane, I’d never bring that up again. You think you’re suddenly a major player because you went through that Silver—”

“I left Christian at the mirror. I found him in the prison,” I cut him off.

His mouth snapped shut, then, “Why the fuck does it always take you so long to tell me the important things?”

“Because there are always so many important things,” I said defensively. “Her hair’s dragging again.”

“Pick it up. My hands are full.”

“I’m not touching her.”

He shot me a look. “Issues much, Ms. Concubine?”

“She’s not even the real queen,” I said irritably. “Not the one that ruined the concubine’s life. I just don’t like Fae. I’m a sidhe-seer, remember?”