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eyebrow, waiting for me to do the same.
    I hesitated, contemplating how bad an idea it was to even have one drink with this man, then tipped the glass back and downed the alcohol in one hit. Fire hit my mouth and burned down my throat. It took every ounce of self control I had not to cough and gag. But, the sweet warmth that followed was a welcome relief from my pain. The loss and heartache and sadness. I should have been tossing back this poison a hell of a lot sooner.
    Avery watched me intently, then just refilled the glasses from the bottle.
    “Do you know what has been happening in the world since you departed from it, Ms. Monk?” he asked casually, leaving the filled glasses where they were on the table next to the bottle.
    I didn't really. I'd not kept in touch with anyone. Just Citysider , or Arthur as he's known to his mates, my London based Nosferatin friend. And that was only when I first came here. I needed some help setting up the false trails. He put me on to some old army buddies of his. Whether or not Arthur had ever been in the army, I didn't know. He's old. Maybe as old as Nero had been and that was close to five hundred years. But, I could also picture Arthur Pencarrow in the military. He just has that look about him.
    Since then, I've avoided all contact for fear of being discovered. I'm sure Samson and my other two vampires in my line, Sergei and Nataliya, would have been missing me. But, I couldn't allow myself the luxury of checking. It was too risky. So no, I hadn't known what was happening elsewhere. For at least the past seven weeks anyway.
    I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. I had the feeling I was about to be chastised, I don't take kindly to that.
    Avery's lips twitched at the edges as he took in my defensive stance. “The portals have widened. More of the Fey have arrived in our realm.”
    I just looked at him. Did I really care? I couldn't find it in me to show concern. I certainly couldn't find it in me to feel it either.
    “This means nothing to you?” He cocked his head at me, his hazel eyes boring into mine. “More fey means more human deaths.” And vampires, I thought, but kept that to myself. “More fey means more hunting you.” Well, that was hard to not respond to. I shifted slightly in my seat. “Ah,” Avery said, “you are not immune to caring then.”
    I am a mœðr , apparently, which means mother or mate in fey. I am one of very few human women who are capable of conceiving fey off-spring. As such, I am a potential hot commodity to those fey seeking to father an heir. Fairies have a notoriously low conception rate amongst themselves. Fertility is a huge issue for their kind. It's basically what has fuelled them from the start. Made them venture into out world in search of potential mates. If I bumped into a horny fey, he'd want a little something more than a candle lit dinner and conversation from me, that was for sure.
    Then, on top of that, if any fey found me, they would soon provide that information to Lutin, Prince of Ljósálfar . Not only am I a mœðr , I am also, according to him, his elska . Or one true love. A fairy only has one elska in their lives. When they find them, they don't give them up easily. Lutin was no doubt hunting me as Avery had been. Hell, I was just one coveted little piece of arse, wasn't I?
    Avery started laughing then and I remembered, belatedly, that he could read my mind. Or at the very least, pluck thoughts at random from it. I wasn't sure how extensive his talents came when dealing with me, but he had the annoying habit of trespassing on my thoughts unannounced.
    He pushed a full glass across to me and said, still trying to rein in his laughter, “I think you need this one.”
    I didn't argue and just tossed the drink back, relishing the burn this time. And the distraction from his knowing smile.
    He tossed his own glass back, still keeping his eyes on me, and then refilled the glasses. That was not a good sign. He