5.
Heather
F
ive more minutes.
That’s all I want before I do any more wedding prep.
Visions from last night swim through my head. It can be stressful having friend groups mesh for the first time, but Rosie and Clara fit right in with everyone from Eclipsica. I wonder if they feel as wrecked as I do. When I stir, my legs glide across silk sheets, an unfamiliar texture that sends a jolt through my system as if I’d just taken a shot of espresso.
Where the hell am I?
Shaking off the blankets, I sit up. The yellow tulle party dress is wrinkled but still firmly in place, ripped at the hem, and Sprout is nowhere to be seen. Ugh, I hope that giant fuzzball is okay. Especially after he tried so hard to pull me back to safety. I squint my eyes shut, trying to remember just what happened last night.
There’s an image of a face—red flowing hair, a hand reaching through a portal, and sadness in his voice. Whoever he is pulled me away from my bachelorette party last night, but why? I piece my thoughts together while I scan the room for clues.
The idea of passing out and some stranger carrying me here and tucking me into bed makes me cringe. Running my hands down to smooth the tulle of my yellow dress, I brush against something firm in my pocket. My phone! I breathe out a sigh of relief, holding the device to my chest. For all the grief it’s given me, I’m sure glad to have it now. The battery icon is blinking red, and I open my contact list trying to think of who is most likely to answer. Mom would, but considering I haven’t exactly gotten around to telling her about the whole faerie thing…
“Come on, come on,” I whisper, dialing Rosie. I wish I could call Moth, but he doesn’t have a phone; he’s never needed one. I’m rarely gone and starting a family plan when we’re both attached to the hip has always felt like unnecessary—until now.
A deep groan from the other side of the room makes me jump. My head snaps up as I scan my surroundings for the source. A decorative sword. A letter opener at the desk. They would all be somewhat viable weapons if I knew how to fight, but given I’m me , I choose the most intimidating of the three. Creeping out of the bed, I move to explore the rest of my surroundings, and then I see him .
Hunched in a chair, which happens to be blocking the only door, there’s a man. His long red hair falls in front of a deathly pale face. This is my captor, and he’s asleep. I study him for a moment, and though some kind of familiarity tugs at my chest, I don’t think we’ve met.
Turning my attention back to my phone, I listen to the unanswered ring until Rosie’s voicemail message plays. The battery is low, which means I don’t have a whole lot of time.
“Help, I’m in some kind of—” I whisper, and again, the man with the long red hair stirs. Shit, okay, quieter… I can be quieter. “—a tower. There’s a man with red hair who pulled me through a portal, and this wasn’t a part of Holly’s game, was it? Because I’m totally freaking out.” My nerves have made me ramble. What can I tell her that’s useful? The one window in this place looks sealed shut, and if my kidnapper wasn’t blocking the door, I’m sure it’s locked. My hairpin skills may be handy for a braid crown, but I haven’t exactly added picking locks to my skillset. With the sheer number of times I’ve become live bait though, I really should. This guy must want something with Moth, right? Why else would he have brought me here? Still, that doesn’t explain why he called me his … fiancé. God, this is such a mess.
While I continue to list off facts about the room, I stand on the bed to grab one of the decorative swords off the wall. This is when the man’s eyes flutter open. They’re purple and pretty and even more shocking, he has the freaking audacity to smile at me. Smile! He raises his hands in surrender. I hold the sword in one hand while I palm my cellphone behind my back.
“It is normal to be startled, but you are safe here, I promise.” His voice isn’t as deep as Moth’s, but still rumbles through the small space.
“You pulled me through a portal!”
“Guilty, yes. Of course, you must remem—”
“At my bachelorette party !” I cut him off, refusing to let this asshole get a word in. Mustering all the skill I’ve gathered in the few lessons Holly insisted on, I point the tip of the sword directly at his throat, and oh my God, I cannot believe I’m threatening someone at sword-point right now.
“Well, waiting ’til the wedding would have been a tad dramatic—even for my taste.” His lips raise revealing his long, pointed fangs. Compared to Moth’s pointed teeth, they’re barely anything to gawk at. Still, I won’t be disarmed by his casual way of speaking.
I position myself the way Holly taught me. It’s been months since the last time she convinced me sparring would be a fun way to bond, and now I’m just hoping that maybe—maybe—I remember enough.
“Come now, as much as I enjoy a beautiful woman threatening me…” He catches the blade with his bare hands. It’s not blunted. A small droplet of blood spills from his palm, but his expression—that flirty, tantalizing gaze—doesn’t waver.
“You can drop the act, my love.” A smile on his lips. “Your so-called friends are too far to hear your cries of displeasure, and I’d rather you throw yourself into my arms.”
What is he talking about?
“No doubt you’ve thought about this day since our last meeting. I hope you know I would have never let you marry that brute.” The man pushes my sword further away from his neck while rising from the chair he had been sleeping in.
“Excuse me?” I ask, my mouth hanging open. This has got to be some kind of mistake, right? He’s confused me for someone else—messed up a spell. I don’t even know this guy; there’s no possible way he could think I’m … in love with him? I wonder if the voicemail is picking any of this up. If it is, maybe there’s some breadcrumb in his words that will lead Moth to me.
“I told you I would come for you when the time was right.” He leans close so that his body brushes against mine. “I’m just sorry it took so long.”
“I think you’re confused.”
“Sweet Heather, I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”
“I don’t know who you are.”
“Then he has … corrupted the memory of our meeting.” The man gasps clutching a hand to his chest. “Does the moth prince truly have such power?”
“Maybe you’re just not that memorable,” I huff before reminding myself I need to get information from him, not banter.
“Impossible.”
“Try me,” I say, dropping the sword so my thumbs can work the keypad of my phone behind my back. I’ve had the thought that I could use social media with my eyes closed. Let’s hope I can send a text.
“Magnus,” he says, more desperate than irritated. It still doesn’t ring a bell, and the question between us hangs in the air. I blink.
Magnus …
Considering the way his fanged mouth is gaping at me the longer it takes me to puzzle this together, I guess we must know each other somehow. And though there’s a vague stirring in my memory when I look at him, I can’t figure out where we’ve met.
“King Magnus … of the vampire’s domain.”
Ohhhhhh. That guy! God, I vaguely remember him now. The last time we saw each other, he was getting harassed by a few gold-digging suitors. Sure, I helped him out, but it’s not like there was any kind of flirting or … maybe that’s not it at all. Maybe this is all some kind of ploy to get to Moth. It’s happened once, and I’m not exactly keen on being live bait again. I do my best to type out a message behind my back relaying any information I can, but for all I know my thumb is sending cat GIF after cat GIF and I’m so screwed.
“You really haven’t thought this through, have you?” I grumble, trying to mask my shaking limbs by looking horribly inconvenienced instead of terrified—and I am. I have no idea what I’m up against here, and the best I can do is try to bide enough time to figure it out.
“Oh, but I have.”He nods. “You do not have to worry.”
“No, no, because when Moth gets here, he’s going to snap you in half. So whatever this is about, just drop it. You’re not going to win.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, my lady. I have taken every measure—”
“He will come for me.” I take a step back. “I hate to admit it, but this isn’t my first rodeo.”
“But it will be your last.” He reaches out to comb the strands of my hair with extended claws, and I shrink away.
“Whatever you want from him—”
“Want from him? Again, you are the one who is mistaken.” He steps into the light of the window, tilting his head as if confused by my reaction to all of this. “I care very little of what that brooding creature wants. It is your desires that are in my best interest.”
“No, dude. No way, not interested,” I say, continuing to slide my thumbs across my keyboard.
“You … what ?”
“We met literally once!”
“ Twice .”
“Okay and?” Does he seriously not see how problematic all of this is?
“I do not understand.”
“Clearly!” I huff. “Look, I know things are different here than in the human realm but come on !”
“You are safe now, Heather.” He reaches out as if to stroke my hair, and I back further away.
“Says my literal kidnapper.”
“ Kidnap— when we spoke at the ball, I asked for your hand.” He says the words slowly, working through the puzzle out loud. “I knew the prince would not let you go so easily, so I have spent the last year planning, learning everything about my future bride while I bided my time.”
I did what now?
No, no, no … he asked for a hand ! I’m sure of it—like a favor or something. Not to literally marry him. I would have never agreed to that. I strain to remember the details of our interaction at the ball, but everything from that night is a hazy blur of brain fog and stress.There’s no way I agreed to be whisked away like this.
He paces the length of the room. It’s smaller than Queen Plume’s tower, with dark stone and things like swords, instruments, and painting supplies stashed in the corner. It’s strange. Why would he keep weapons inside a jail cell?
“No? You asked if I could give you a hand. Like, when a friend asks for a ride to the airport or help moving a couch.” Not to get married.
“Ah, then … will you help me move this … chair?” He pulls an ornate wooden chair across the room.
“And then you’ll take me back?”I ask, walking to the chair in question. It’s a tufted red velvet seat he could easily lift on his own. Carefully, I slide my phone up my sleeve before lifting the chair just a little.
“And then we’ll be good?” I clarify.
“And then we will get married.” He smirks, and oh my God … I can already tell this is going to be impossible.
“I’m not helping you do shit!” I shout. Doing the only reasonable thing I can think of with the chair, I throw it at him.
“I mean, technically-speaking, you did move it,”he says, lightly kicking the wooden legs with the toe of his boot. “And vulgarity suits you.”
I didn’t think I could hate anyone more than my first kidnapper, Chris. But this guy is proving to be even more annoying.
“What do you want?” I ask, throwing my arms in the air.
“ You , Heather. I think I have made that clear.”
“What … with threats, blackmail, and torture?”
“Again, this was meant to be a rescue .” His eyes comb the length of my body, landing on the “Bride to Be” sash that hangs across my chest. He grimaces, as if realizing for the first time that it’s what I’ve been wearing for the duration of this…rescue. “I will send for something more suitable for you to wear.”
“You will send me back.” I put my hands on my hips, and note the way my claws extend, making tiny slashes into the tulle of my skirt. “Like you just said: it was a misunderstanding. Why would you keep me here if I don’t want to marry you?”
“I’m afraid that will be impossible.”
Why do these paranormal folks have to be so damn dramatic?
“You get how this works, right? You kidnap me, Moth finds me, and you get brutally murdered, ‘kay? Save yourself the trouble and find someone else, preferably someone you don’t have to steal.”
He crosses his arms, staring at the sealed window of the tower, his strong jaw set as he taps a finger on his bicep.
“And what if, this time, your prince does not come looking?” There’s genuine curiosity in his voice. “This is not the first time you’ve disappeared now, is it?”
I flush. How does he know about that?“It’s the week of our wedding.”
“Your last chance to run,” he counters with a click of his tongue. “People talk, sweet Heather.”
“ Stop calling me that.” Only one person gets to call me cutesy nicknames, and if it’s not Moth’s deep voice growling “my flame,” I don’t want it.
“My apologies.” He blinks. “But you are prone to running away when things get too hard, aren’t you? I would make life so easy. You would never want to run again.”
“It’s not like that anymore.” I say,I have a life I’m happy with—friends, a partner, a dog! People with that kind of stability don’t just run… do they?
“And does your prince know that?”
“Yes,” I answer, but there’s no hiding the quake of uncertainty in my voice.
“How many days until your wedding?” he asks.
“Three,”I huff. “So, the sooner you send me back the sooner—”
But he doesn’t let me finish the thought, much less the sentence, before his eyes spark and he raises his chin with defiance.
“Then that is how long I have to win you over,” he says in a way that makes me wonder if he’s talking to me—or himself.
“That doesn’t work for me!” I argue. As if I don’t have a giant list of stuff to do before the wedding!
But the vampire king ignores my protest before glancing back from the doorway, his lips spread in a cocky fang-filled smile. “I don’t typically lose.”