Page 145 of His Retribution

I'm fae, a magical, mystical being that gave way to legends of pixies and fairies because of their powers over nature and the elements but happen to be extinct except for me? Excellent, I always knew my boho-hippy-gypsy self was different and now I know why.

My real parents were fae royalty and speak to me in dreams about my untapped power and purpose in life in order to give me confidence in said power because they were murdered and have no other way to communicate with me? Great, I'm finally getting the support I've always wanted.

So the fact that I'm sitting on the floor of a makeshift prison cell in the basement of my clan's compound about six feet away from an enormous, naked, oddly familiar demon as he slowly comes to after I knocked him out with my superpowers while my lovely mate tries to perform telepathic brain surgery on the woman this demon possessed is no skin off my teeth.

Maybe I'm crazy.

Or maybe I'm still riding high on the multiple orgasms Havok gave me just over an hour ago.

Or maybe, just maybe, I've finally realized that there are so many beautiful curiosities in this world that all I can do is accept them as well as my place amongst them.

And maybe that's what makes me crazy.

My open heart, my enlightened and free mind, those things make it easier to just accept all of this as fact but might mean I've also got a little insanity kicking in my head as well.

Regardless of what it is, of why I am no longer surprised by anything that happens to me or my loved ones, the fact is, nothing really does surprise me anymore and I'm not sure if I should be proud of that or fucking worried.

"Do you like Alice In Chains, my queen?"

My eyes shift from Havok's ring to the body across from me now struggling to sit up, the chorded muscles twitching almost unnaturally with the obvious strain.

My brow arches. "Layne Staley was a genius."

The low rumble of his laughter echoes around us, bounces off the walls and makes me smile despite our current situation. "Then you are familiar with The Man in the Box, yes?"

"'Feed my eyes' sort of resounds with me on a different level now."

He laughs again, leans heavily onto his left arm, stretches his long legs out to reveal more of those curious markings. "It seems another of the many things we share is an affinity for Mr. Staley's words." He glances over his shoulder and pins me with the most vibrant amethyst eyes. "So won't you come and save me, my queen?"

A chill wracks my body, those words repeated in that voice flashes through my mind. Different times, different places, different circumstances but those words and that voice always the same.

"Are you the man in the box, Zan?" I toss a pair of basketball shorts at him. "Buried in your shit?"

He grins then moves gingerly, carefully, and slowly pulls on the shorts while maintaining a sliver of privacy. Zan, because his full name is a fucking mouthful, turns and scoots back against the wall, and mirrors my position with a sigh.

"Yes. Buried in my shit, your shit, the shit of those above me. There's so much shit in my box I'm sure I'll never be able to get out."

Zan's eyes meet mine, hold them captive for a moment before they close and he leans his head against the brick behind him.

I'm not sure what I expected a demon to look like but Zan definitely isn't it.

He's easily as tall as any of the other males I spend time with but lean, more like a rugby player versus the linebackers in my life.

Zan's features are sharp, not pointy but the lines of his cheek bones, his nose, and jaw are all so defined they look surreal. The white blonde hair and intense amethyst eyes are offset by the golden tone of his skin, not bronze like my dragon brothers but definitely darker than myself and my love. It's actually almost a deep rose gold color and it shimmers despite all of the heavy black designs that adorn his body.

He's very good looking, beautiful even, but in a dark and sinister way, an anguished way, a way that stirs this odd feeling in my gut.

A feeling of familiarity, of recognition, of… family?

I feel like I think this evil creature is beautiful because I somehow belong to him the way I belong to Tolan and Ellida.

Which I'm sure sounds really messed up since he possessed someone just to stab me.

"You do not fear me."

I tilt my head and really look at Zan for a second.

Don't I fear him?