Chapter 3 Aerin
AERIN
Sandwiched between Vyx and Quinn, Aerin slips past him with a warm greeting. The club is dark inside, decorated in greens and golds. It thrums with music and churns with bodies of residents and visitors alike.
Vyx leads them through the crowd. Her sleek, black hair is in a tight ponytail, swinging low over her bare back. Quinn holds Aerin’s hand, a step behind her. Always the slightly more approachable of the three, Quinn wears curls and a smile.
Sometimes, Aerin loves how similar the Vipers look, and how different they look compared to her.
Aerin, like all the Tolvare siblings, is gold on gold on gold.
Monotone. Whereas the Vipers are dipped in contrast, with their pale white skin, striking green eyes, and stunning black hair.
Standing between them Aerin shines brightly.
But there are some nights when Aerin doesn’t want to be bright—doesn’t want to be recognized, cooed at, respected, or feared.
Tonight is one of those nights. So instead of standing between the Vipers with golden blonde hair, tanned skin, and shimmering gold eyes, Aerin wears a different set of features.
In clothes that show more skin than they cover, Aerin appears as an amalgamation of Vyx and Quinn.
Black hair hanging halfway down her back in waves, green eyes as bright as the leaves after a rain, and a smile only half as friendly as Quinn’s.
Aerin’s magic won’t last. Her grip on it will waver with the addition of drugs and alcohol to her system, with the passage of time, but for the moment, she relishes in being someone other than herself.
Despite her magic, when they reach the bar, the bartender recognizes the three Vipers as exactly who they are: heiresses with a standing tab and publicity that makes this club the most sought-after nightlife in all of Novhelm. He pours expensive alcohol into shot glasses.
While they wait Quinn twirls Aerin’s black hair around her finger. “It’s always so fun when you play dress up,” Quinn teases.
Aerin’s magic is peculiar, though not completely unheard of.
The majority of Fae have elemental magic.
The Tolvare’s are fire-Fae, as are most Fae in Valtara.
Esalin, Aerin’s mother, hails from a supremely powerful line of fire-Fae.
The combination with the ruling Tolvare blood from Aerin’s father, Oberyn, resulted in two extremely powerful fire-Fae: Cisera and Bruin.
When Aerin’s powers manifested, her parents found few examples to reference in the Fae histories.
Most Fae with powers outside their element are considered weak.
Despite the unique ability to shift her appearance, or the appearance of anything she wishes, Aerin’s magic is no exception to that rule.
Regarded as mostly useless. A party trick.
The shots are pushed to them, and the three girls swallow down the burning liquid without hesitation.
A second bartender gives them cocktails, courtesy of a group of Cougar Shifters down the bar.
Quinn gives the Cougars a wave and flirty smile before Vyx drags the girls away from the bar.
She pushes through the throng of creatures to reach the stairs leading to the second-floor VIP balcony.
The bulky Jaguar Shifter working the rope opens it for them.
Marcus doesn’t speak all that often, but he nods as Aerin passes, aware that the middle Viper is no Viper at all.
Aerin gives him an appreciative once over and a wink that earns her a small smile.
Entering the relatively private VIP bathroom and locking the door behind them, Vyx fetches a baggie of Pixie Dust from her top.
Aerin passes her a blade she keeps in the sole of her heeled shoe.
Quinn leans against the wall, taking a sip of her drink before sighing, “It’s packed tonight.
” It’s not a complaint but a compliment.
More creatures means more fun for the three girls who often grace the club. The line to enter had been around the block, filled with creatures traveling down to Valtara for the weekend from Keylar or Zeneith. Aerin’s never stood in one of those lines, but she imagines it would be quite tedious.
Vyx hands Aerin back the knife after using it to maneuver the pale-pink, shimmering powder into three straight lines. The Viper leans down to inhale the first line of Pixie Dust through her nose.
“They must be getting sick of the cold up North,” Aerin remarks, bending down to take her own line.
When she stands again, Vyx is leaning close to the mirror, adjusting her lip liner with her sharp, painted black, pinky nail.
Despite their similar appearances, Vyx and Quinn could not be more different.
Like two sides of the same coin, it’s as if they are always trying to oppose one another.
Where Quinn is soft, Vyx is sharp. Where Quinn is dramatic, Vyx is serious.
Where Quinn is kind, Vyx is vicious, always trying to cancel each other out.
“Gods, I love our city.” Quinn laughs. “Imagine living in Zeneith.”
Vyx’s nose wrinkles in distaste at the idea as she moves to allow her cousin to take the last line.
Rubbing her nose after inhaling, Quinn continues, “I’d rather cut my arm off than party in Zeneith for more than a long weekend.”
“Everyone fun just comes down here anyways,” Aerin agrees, adjusting her black hair in the mirror.
After stuffing the baggie of Pixie Dust back into her top, Vyx wipes away any remaining evidence with a wet paper towel. Quinn bullies them into posing for a picture that she captions ‘my favorite cousins’ with a wink. Before they exit the bathroom Aerin downs the last of her drink.
As they weave back towards the dance floor, they pass Marcus again and this time Aerin reaches out to squeeze his bicep, the Pixie Dust kicking in.
Everything is better on Pixie Dust. Lights shimmer like stars. The creatures around them blur just enough to make everything soft. The music floats into her body instead of pounding against it.
Despite their minimal clothing and swaying hips, no one dares to touch them without permission. Not the Party Princess of Valtara and her Vipers. But Aerin can feel them watching her, the eyes on her skin heavy like hands, abrasive with lust or envy.
The three of them dance through multiple songs before Vyx breaks. She drags a Lion Shifter from the crowd, allowing him to drape his body behind hers and lay his hands on her narrow hips. Vyx grins, her pointed fangs glistening as her tongue roves over them.
Quinn is quick to follow suit, exchanging a few coy words with a handsome male Fae whose eyes have been eating her alive since they arrived on the dance floor. He slides in behind her, hands respectfully on her hips, lips not-so-respectfully on her neck.
Aerin, not one to be left out of the fun, does a quick scan of the room.
Though the Pixie Dust softens edges, the world isn’t blurry, and each creature comes and goes from her focus with purpose.
Most of the males are attractive enough.
Aerin has a propensity towards Predator Shifters: large, strong, possessive, and so very different from the males of her past. The rarer the creature, the more Aerin will pursue them, making a game of it in her head.
How many of the most powerful species can she bed?
Though she never truly has to do much pursuing. She’s Aerin Tolvare. Males fall at her feet.
As Aerin scans the crowd again, narrowing in on her choices, her eyes land on someone new.
He stands still in the writhing mass of bodies, too far away for Aerin to see his features in detail.
But she can see what he is. The Dragon-Fae.
The same wings she ogled at this morning are curled behind broad shoulders as he looms over the rest of the creatures in the room.
Dragon-Fae are a rare lineage of Fae. It has been hypothesized they are the result of Dragon and Fae crossbreeding, though this has never been confirmed nor denied as Dragon-Fae are a supremely secretive subspecies.
They are known to live in small groups high in the Hannan Mountains, the same territory where Dragons once roamed prior to their extinction three-thousand years ago, lending credence to this hypothesis.
Aerin read the passage just this morning, curiosity getting the better of her after spotting him at the coffee shop. And now he’s here, in Tower 77, looking right at her.
His light eyes pierce through the dark of the club, though Aerin can’t tell what color.
A strand of jaw-length dark hair hangs, the rest of his hair pulled back behind his head.
He wears an expression that appears unimpressed, if not slightly revolted, by the scene around him, but it seems to abate when he realizes Aerin’s attention is on him.
Aerin throws him a smile, her magic faltering. The black hair over her shoulder turns golden blonde in a wave. In response, his features tighten. Every muscle, from his wings, down his arms, and up to his jaw, tenses ever so slightly. The shift is minimal enough that Aerin almost misses it.
She doesn’t miss the way he turns on his heel and walks away.
The excitement inside of Aerin turns to petulance as she grabs the nearest Predator Shifter, a Cougar sporting biceps bigger than her head.
Fuck that Dragon-Fae. His loss.
The Cougar is quick to lay his hands on Aerin, pulling her body flush to his and grinding their hips together. As Aerin releases the wave of irritation stirred by the Dragon-Fae’s rejection, she allows herself to sink back down into the Pixie Dust. Into the softness.
The Cougar’s touch turns from tolerable to amazing. The music turns from background noise to a siren song. She seals herself off from any other emotions, like a ward that cannot be broken. Instead, she loses herself in the revelry.