Page 152 of Hunted By Fae

The net stills.

Tesni’s finger remains stiff, pointed like a loaded canon at Em, but the rest of her body trembles, a frail twig in a blizzard.

I don’t know if she did the right thing. I don’t know if it’s better to be Tesni right now, or to be Emily.

I don’t know what my fate is with this dark one.

All I know is, distantly in my throbbing head, I need a way out of this. But I can hardly hold my head up from the ground, no more than an inch or so.

The dark one slides his gaze smoothly between them.

My heartbeats thump in my brain, pulsing it against the constraints of my skull. Every pulse strikes my vision, blurs it for a beat, then again and again—and I might be sick all over the ice.

Emily’s whimper comes soft, “She’s lying.”

If I had much awareness in the moment, if I had more fear to spare outside of my own selfishness, then I might cry for her.

“I would expect nothing less from a human,” comes a polished, smooth voice that prickles the hairs up the nape of my neck.

Dare.

The icy male turns at the sound of his voice. His pale eyes are blizzards in the dusky light, and he aims them at the darkness behind me.

A sluggish frown warps my face as I twist until I am flat on my back. The blur of my vision lingers as I turn my gaze to the wisps of darkness untouched by the torchlight.

Dare prowls out from that thick blackness.

The gleam of his eyes, one pale, one gold, are what I notice first. Then comes the smooth marble of his complexion.

He comes to my side—and stops.

Without a glance down at me, he looks between Emily in the net and Tesni shivering on the road. Then he settles his small smirk on the icy male.

Dare’s smirk is born of darkness and curses, and his upper lip curls, as though itching to turn into a snarl and take bites out of us all. “Tesni is indeed a liar.”

“Dare, please—” I’m cut off, harsh, as a snarl rips free from him. It is swift, curt, and aimed down at me, not unlike the serrated edge of a knife.

I flinch into the ice, my toes curled in my boots.

The icy fae speaks as though I have not been silenced, as though danger doesn’t flare in Dare’s conflicting eyes, “You missed your favourite part.”

“The general needed convincing,” Dare answers. “You may assist me—for the price of your steed.”

The ice male tenses.

I cringe back at the sensation of it, like frost creeping over him, ice forming in the air around him.

His grip tightens on the shotgun.

“You are now a foot warrior,” Dare adds, and his slight grin looks more of a grimace. “If you choose to aid me, that is.”

The steady glare of the ice fae prickles through the air. He holds that stare, fingers tight on the shotgun.

I flick my attention to Tesni.

Her gaze is on me already, face wet—and her hand resting, gentle, on the holstered handgun.

My face drains of colour.