Page 12 of A Taste of Bliss

What the fuck just happened?

It’s like the fucking stone itself rejected me. I finally glance down at my hand, seeing the reddened flesh and—Oh stars, is that what muscle looks like underneath skin?

I wince in pain, looking anywhere but at my hand. Even through blurry eyes, I see the fae running the ceremony juststanding there, looking between me and the stone. Amelia and Liz force their way onto the stage.

“What just happened?” My aunt shoots the question at the water nymph. She’s now speaking in hushed voices with a few other fae that also must be members of the council. Liz pushes her way into their circle.

I look again at my hand, even though the sight of it freaks me out and makes it hurt that much worse. But it saves me from looking up at the faces of everyone else. Everyone knows now that I’m unlovable. That I have no mate. That’s what this has to mean, right? My mind spins, embarrassment warring with self-pity and a hollowness in my chest. Tears threaten to cascade down my cheeks.

“Are you okay?” Amelia asks, lifting my hand gently, forcing me to look up at her. She doesn’t seem concerned about anything else other than my hand.

I search Amelia’s face for answers, but she just takes the first aid kit someone offers her and wraps my hand. “You need to recharge your power.”

“Who with?” I ask bitterly. “Not with my mate, seeing as they don’t exist.”

“What?” She finally looks me directly in the eyes.

“The stonerejectedme. What else could that mean other than I’m mateless?”

“I don’t think that’s what it means. It’s probably just broken.”

I glance at the stone. It seems just fine to me, still ablaze with its internal fire.

But I don’t voice that. Instead, I allow her to pull me up and lead me outside, trying not to feel the thousands of eyes that are trained on me. Because I know not a single one of them has a rune meant for me.

CHAPTER FIVE

BLISS

Amelia wakesme up the next morning with a fresh hot cup of coffee. I watch the steam rise off it, though I make no move towards it. I’m bundled up under the covers in my old bedroom, and if I could manage it I would pull them up over my head. But I don’t.

Mostly because I can’t. My limbs don’t want to move and Amelia and I both know why that is. Succubi need sex.

And I haven’t gotten any in months. My magic tried its best to heal my hand, which only resulted in a slightly less burned hand and power so low, my brain might shut off completely. And part of me really doesn’t care. “I called Taser,” Amelia tells me, nudging the mug of coffee closer to me. “Drink this, and get showered. He’ll be here soon and youwilluse him to top off your reserves, okay?”

“No thanks.”

“Bliss, this isn’t a joke. You could seriously die. That stone injured you and you were already super low.”

The ache in my chest that always comes with low power gnaws at me. It’s ten times worse than being hungry.

“You’ve slept with him tons of times, what’s the problem?”

“He has a girlfriend now.”

She rips the covers off me. “I’d rather him cheat on her, than have you die.”

“I’ll find someone else.”

“No, you won’t, and even if you would, you don’t have time.”

“Get my phone. There’s a guy from work?—”

“He won’t get here in time.”

I know she’s right, but part of me just doesn’t care. If I could just fade slowly into sleep and then into death, I’d allow it. I’d slip beneath the covers and never emerge of my own accord. But dying due to power fading that low is an excruciating pain. In fact, death by power outage isn’t a very successful suicide method for fae. We usually fall into a primal energy and end up seeking out what we need. It becomes no longer our choice, but the choice of our magic.

So when my bedroom door squeaks open and Taser pokes his head inside, I grumble and finally push myself out of bed. I practically chug the coffee and it scalds going down, but I don’t mind it. I go into the bathroom and turn on the shower, pushing the knob over enough to make the water match the temperature of the coffee.