Page 1 of Fairy’s Forbidden Touch (Wings & Whispers #2)
I was about ninety percent sure I was hallucinating when the tiny woman with dragonfly wings flitting around my head offered me a job.
Then again, I was on day three of the worst hangover of my life, crashing on my cousin Maya’s too-small couch, and desperately in need of employment after my last spectacular life failure.
“You’ll do perfectly,” the winged woman—Pix, she’d said her name was—declared, circling me one more time. “You’ve got the right energy. Humans who can see us clearly are rare, and we need someone who won’t freak out when the customers get… eccentric.”
“I once worked at a theme restaurant where I had to dress as a medieval executioner and serve drinks called ‘Bloody Beheadings,’” I offered. “I’ve made peace with eccentric.”
Pix grinned, revealing teeth that were just a bit too pointed. “Moonlight Brews opens at dusk. Don’t be late, Jesse Parker.”
And that’s how I found myself standing behind the counter of the strangest café I’d ever seen, trying not to stare at what appeared to be a small troll eating seven croissants stacked in a tower.
“These are the house rules,” Fern, the elderly barista with skin like tree bark, handed me a handwritten list. She’d been explaining the various drink preparations for the past hour—apparently fae have very specific preferences about moon- blessed water and the precise temperature for steeping midnight bloom tea.
I scanned the list:
No iron on the premises
Never accept gifts without offering something in return
Don’t promise anything you can’t deliver (LITERALLY)
Names have power—use them wisely
DON’T TOUCH THE PRINCE
That last one was underlined three times in red ink.
“The prince?” I asked.
Fern’s ancient eyes narrowed. “Prince Thalen. He comes in occasionally. Royal family, very powerful, very dangerous to touch. His skin contains concentrated wild magic that burns anyone who makes contact. Three servers have ended up with permanent scars before we implemented the rule.”
“Got it. No touching royalty. Seems like solid life advice in general.”
Fern didn’t laugh. “I’m serious, boy. He’s not like the courtly fae who come in here playing at being mysterious. He’s old magic. Dangerous. Beautiful, but in the way venomous creatures are beautiful—as a warning.”
“Message received. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
Of course, that’s when the café door swung open, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Every customer went silent, their attention fixed on the entrance.
Holy shit.
If I hadn’t already been warned about his identity, I would have known he was royalty just by looking at him.
He moved with impossible grace, each step silent against the wooden floor.
His tailored suit was midnight blue with silver embroidery that seemed to shift like constellations when he moved.
But it was his face that made my breath catch—sharp cheekbones that could cut glass, full lips set in a permanent slight frown, and eyes like amethysts that surveyed the room with cool detachment.
His hair was the color of moonlight, falling past his shoulders in an intricate pattern of braids and loose strands, adorned with tiny silver beads that clinked softly when he moved. Pointed ears peeked through the silvery curtain, decorated with delicate silver cuffs.
Don’t stare don’t stare don’t stare…
I was definitely staring.
“That’s him,” Fern whispered unnecessarily. “Remember rule number five.”
The prince took a seat at the far end of the counter, as far from other customers as possible. Everyone gave him a wide berth, some even relocating to more distant tables. He placed long, elegant fingers on the countertop and waited, his face impassive.
Fern nudged me. “Go take his order. Just don’t touch him.”
Great. First day and I’m already waiting on deadly royalty.
I approached cautiously, keeping a respectful distance. “Good evening. Welcome to Moonlight Brews. What can I get for you?”
Those violet eyes flicked up to mine, and I felt a jolt like static electricity. He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable.
“You’re new,” he stated, his voice unexpectedly melodic with an accent I couldn’t place.
“First day,” I confirmed, trying for a casual smile that probably looked more like a grimace.
“Nightshade tea. One drop of honey, not stirred.” He continued to stare at me with unsettling intensity.
“Coming right up… Your Highness?” I ventured, unsure of the proper protocol.
One pale eyebrow arched slightly. “Thalen is sufficient.”
I nodded and retreated to prepare his tea, feeling those strange eyes following my movements. As I carefully measured the deep purple leaves, Fern appeared at my elbow.
“He never speaks to servers,” she whispered. “Just orders with gestures or writes it down.”
“Lucky me,” I muttered, carefully transferring the steaming tea to a silver cup. “So what’s his deal? Besides the whole ‘touch me and die’ thing?”
Fern shrugged. “No one knows much. The royal family keeps to themselves. He started coming here about a year ago, always alone, always after midnight. Never causes trouble, never speaks more than necessary.”
I returned with the tea, setting it down with exaggerated care to avoid any chance of contact. “Your nightshade tea… Thalen.”
Those strange eyes studied me again, then dropped to the tea. He nodded once in acknowledgment and wrapped long fingers around the cup.
For the rest of the night, I felt his gaze tracking me as I served other customers. Whenever I glanced his way, he was watching—not with any particular expression, just… observing. He stayed until closing, nursing that single cup of tea for hours, and left without another word.
“Well, you survived your first encounter with Prince Charming,” Pix chirped as we cleaned up. “Impressed he actually spoke to you. Usually he just broods silently until we’re all uncomfortable.”
I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “Maybe he was curious about the new guy.”
Or maybe I’m just that irresistibly fascinating, I thought sarcastically.
I had no idea then how true that would turn out to be.