Chapter 58 Aerin
AERIN
Aerin swallows another shot after faking smiles for pictures with a group of Shifters. The alcohol burns as it goes down, but she smiles anyways, forcing laughter at a club in South Zeneith.
“If you tag me in the post I’ll put it on my story,” Aerin winks at the Shifter whose phone was used for the photos.
“Oh my Gods? Really?! That would be so cool!” She squeals.
Aerin was pictured entering the club, she posted pictures getting ready with Vyx and Quinn.
The Vipers posted bathrooms selfies and pictures of the fancy drinks they were served.
Aerin will be pictured leaving on the arm of Khortland, playing it up for the cameras.
But a few random photos of her floating online from other creatures will only bolster the story they are perpetuating.
Aerin pays for the group’s next round of drinks before excusing herself back to the dance floor.
Tonight, there is no Pixie Dust. There is no dancing against her bonded-mates, sandwiched between their large bodies.
Though Aerin’s head is still foggy, swimming with exhaustion, emotional, physical, and magical.
Add in the alcohol and the fact that she’s hardly been able to stomach food for two days—Aerin feels like shit.
On edge. Though if she falls off that edge, she isn’t certain what she’ll find, anger or sadness.
Aerin searches for Vyx and Quinn in the crowd, finding them dancing with a set of Fae who look like brothers.
The third brother is waiting for her, and Aerin lets him slide in behind her.
She fakes a few more laughs, singing along to the music as she sways her hips.
The hands feel wrong holding her hips loosely.
No one stops him. Aerin thinks maybe that is the worst part.
Not that her life is a lie or that her mother was murdered by her father, or that she is part of some Witch prophecy, or that her bond-mates could be in danger.
No, the worst part is the blood-bond sharp like a dagger in her side.
The worst part is this Fae touching her, and Malice not even paying close enough attention to notice.
It’s the way Emrys looks at her with hesitation in his eyes, like he doesn’t quite trust her.
Falling towards sadness Aerin does her best to pull away from the edge.
Finally, the song ends, and Aerin slips away again, back into the crowd to flirt with other random males or chat up more groups of Shifters for photos. To do anything she can to make it seem like this is the best night of her life as her world crashes down around her.
After another lap, Aerin wanders down a hall, past the lines for the bathrooms. She considers getting fresh air, but the last door in the hallway catches her attention as a male Fae all but crashes into her on his way out of the room.
“Sorry,” he says, hands on both of her arms to keep her upright on unsteady feet. “Are you going in?” He holds the door open. It’s an office. A Spider Shifter sits at the desk counting a stack of cash.
Curiosity piqued, Aerin only nods to the male who shuts the door, sealing her in with the Spider. He pockets the cash and looks up, eyes flashing first with shock and then intrigue.
“Princess, I heard you were in my club. What can I do for you?” Something about his voice feels slimy.
“That seems more like a question I should be asking; what can you do for me?” Aerin asks, sitting herself in the chair across from the Spider. His eyes travel over her exposed skin before coming back to her face with a smile.
“I just got something in, from the West,” he says, pulling open a drawer and dropping a white pill on the desk between them.
The recklessness inside of Aerin itches to take it. That part of her that wants away. Out of her head for just a few hours.
“What does it do?” Aerin asks him, picking up the pill and analyzing it. It has no markings, though in the light it gives off a faint shimmer, similar to Pixie Dust.
“It is compacted Pixie Dust mixed with Hannigan,” the Spider explains. Aerin nods, Hannigan is a hallucinogen isolated from Hannigan mushrooms that grow in the forest outside of Keylar. Hard to get your hands on.
Aerin knows this is a bad idea. She really, really does.
She puts the pill in her mouth anyways. She swallows.
“Put it on my tab,” she tells the Spider, standing up from the chair.
“You’d like me to charge your father for your drugs?” the Spider asks, humor in his voice.
Aerin shoots him a carefully placed smile over her shoulder. “For all I care, you can charge him double.” The Spider’s laugh echoes as she leaves his office, making her way back to the main floor of the club.
She hasn’t seen Malice and Emrys for a while, but assuming they are in VIP, she doesn’t bother. Not with the way they’ve been keeping her at an arm’s length. Instead, Aerin goes back to the bar to order another drink. A second gets served to her courtesy of some male Aerin doesn’t bother to thank.
She waits.
Someone invites her to dance, a Jaguar. Aerin agrees. She lets his hands touch her, the bare skin between her skirt and top, the curve of her hips. He purrs in her ear, telling her how sexy she is. The most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
The words echo in her ears. The lights blur, double, then blur again.
Aerin turns to face him, but his face floats between handsome and grotesque.
He’s saying something about her tits. He laughs.
She laughs. She kisses him and his tongue feels like a slug in her mouth.
She pulls away, turns around again. His hands feel like hot brands, but she doesn’t remove them.
She looks around the room as it swirls before her.
She looks and looks. For blue eyes and massive wings.
For height that towers over her and brown earnest eyes.
Fingers slide under the waistband of her skirt. Aerin can’t find her voice to stop him. She can’t find Malice. She can’t find Emrys. She is alone. The room churns, colors blurring and dancing before her eyes. Sounds are loud and quiet, coming in and out of her ears.
Aerin blinks and she thinks it takes her too long, like too much time passes while her eyes are closed. There is someone new in front of her now. Not Malice. Not Emrys.
She reaches for the blood-bond, but it feels far away. So far, she can’t find it. Can’t think.
Someone stands in front of her. Someone tall. Dark hair. Not Malice. Not Emrys. She can’t see him. No features are distinct, just a blur of broad shoulders and black hair and black clothes. Aerin reaches out for him and is almost shocked to touch him.
He feels the way a violin sounds. The touch tugs on something inside of her, but it too, feels far away. Her thoughts can’t form. She can’t tell what’s real and what’s imagination. She searches her brain, but just like the blood-bond, this feeling is out of her reach.
She brushes black hair away from his face and then all she sees is red. Red. Red. Red.
Everything fades farther from her grasp, like reality is floating away.
Aerin reaches for the blood-bond again. Reaches and reaches.
Burrows into herself, past her heart and to her ribs.
There are no words she can get out, no message to be sent.
All she can do is grasp it, grip it, dig her nails into it.
She looks up again and sees red.
She blinks again. One of those long blinks that make it feel like time sped passed her. The red is gone.
Instead, Aerin sees blue. Blue. Blue. Blue.
When Aerin wakes, she finds herself in a bed in the Royal Village. Everything hurts: her head, her legs, her feet. Most of all her chest. She feels like a hole has been punched through her.
She looks at the floor and Emrys is there, his brown eyes watching her carefully from his Wolf form.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Aerin says softly, tears pulling to her eyes. For once, she doesn’t have it in her to fight them back.
[It will all be okay, Alpha.] The honorific causes tears to form faster.
“Malice?” she whispers.
Emrys shakes his head ever so slightly before laying it back down on his paws.
The hole in her chest aches. The blood-bond in her ribs is agonizing. And there is something else, some other sense of loss, just out of reach.
Aerin rolls over and cries silent tears. She destroys everything good she touches. She isn’t worthy of her bond-mates’ attention, of their devotion, of their loyalty. She tells herself it’s just the after-effects of the drugs making her feel this way.
Over and over again.
She never quite believes it.