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mobbed, charged with criminal damage, and locked up before I could mutter the word
lawsuit
.” He spread his hands apart. “Rock Star Fae’s Grand Entrance Ends in FA Arrest.” He paused, waiting for me to return a counterargument. Eyes cold. “Yeah, how about we don’t mention the window, huh?” A car pulled up some feet from us and a couple climbed out. Reign seemed to remember we were out in the open, on display, and he was a fae-at-large. He stalked around me and propped his graceful figure against a wall, but kept his head down. “What did the construct say?” he asked without looking up.
    “What’s a construct?”
    “An avatar, a puppet …” he snarled impatiently. “What did it say?”
    “Reign, what the hell is going on? This time yesterday I was stuck at my desk typing up reports, and now I’ve got the police on my doorstep and I’m trying to avoid getting eaten by organized spiders.” I closed my eyes and allowed the city sounds to soak into my thoughts, soothing and grounding me. “Was it magic?” I asked. “I saw it … The draíocht vapor. I felt it.” Shivers trickled down my spine. “How is that even possible?” An unkind slither of a smile danced across his lips, before the tip of his tongue darted out and moistened it away. How dare he smile, like this was a game. “You better tell me what the hell is going on, Reign, or I’ll give you up to the FA.”
    “Alina.” His voice gained a sharper edge. He spoke my name as though wielding it like a weapon. Lifting his head, he narrowed his eyes, squaring his gaze on me. “It is very important you stop avoiding my question and tell me what it said to you.”
    I blew my hair out of my face and planted a hand on a hip. “I’m not avoiding your question.”
    “Then answer it,” he said quietly. His words contracted, sharpened to points, like the small canine teeth revealed as he spoke.
    “It said something about the queen.”
    His eyed widened, and his lips parted. He shoved off the wall and invaded my space, driving me back. I straightened, jerked my chin up, and glared. “Do you bully your groupies to get what you want? That’s a side of sexy-Sovereign we don’t see in the press. I know your kind were once brutal to the point of being vicious. Are you?”
    He flinched and turned his head away. The twitch in his cheek betrayed how he’d gritted his teeth behind pinched lips. I’d wounded him. Good. Carefully, he met my glare. “What did it say about the queen, Alina?”
    There, my name said like that on his lips had a thrill of nerves fluttering low in my abdomen. “I, er …” He stood too close, so that I could easily plant my hands on his chest, but that was the point. I wanted to touch him. Damn. He was getting to me. Maybe the first touch had done more damage than I’d realized. I couldn’t dwell on those thoughts. “Back off and I’ll talk to you reasonably. Get all up in my face like this again, and I’ll scream
unwilling bespellment
and have your roaming rights revoked.”
    “Too late; remember, I’ve already broken fae law.” The corners of his mouth turned downward. “If I wanted to bespell you, American Girl, you’d let me.” His tongue flicked across his lower lip, emptying my thoughts of reason. He leaned in closer, tilting his head, as though meaning to kiss me. For a few seconds, panic spooked my heart into flight. But he stopped, face inches from mine, so damn close I braced my arms between us to hold him back. He pushed against my palms. He was warm and hard beneath my touch. He had to be trying to scare me, but the look in his eyes wasn’t aggression. His breathing, steady, controlled, made a mockery of my sharp gasps. If this
was
a scare tactic, it was working, but not for the reason he wanted. I’d seen lovers stand farther apart than we stood, as they’d touched, kissed. His hand lifted, brushing my shoulder, my hair. If he dared touch my cheek, I’d scream. He let his fingers hover beside my