My philosophy is pretty simple—any day nobody’s trying to kill me is a good day in my book.
I haven’t had many good days lately.
Not since the walls between Man and Faery came down.
But I’m getting ahead of myself, ahead of the story.
It began as most things begin. Not on a dark and stormy night. Not foreshadowed by ominous here-comesthe-villain music, dire warnings at the bottom of a teacup, or dread portents in the sky.
It began small and innocuously, as most catastrophes do. A butterfly flaps its wings somewhere and the wind changes, and a warm front hits a cold front off the coast of western Africa and before you know it you’ve got a hurricane closing in. By the time anyone figured out the storm was coming, it was too late to do anything but batten down the hatches and exercise damage control.
My name is MacKayla. Mac for short. I’m a sidhe-seer, a fact I accepted only recently and very reluctantly.
There were more of us out there than anyone knew. And it’s a damn good thing, too.
When you love too hard, you can lose the will to live without them. Everywhere you look is a great big sucking absence of what you once had and will never have again. And life gets weirdly flat and too sharp and painful at the same time, and nothing feels right and everything cuts.
So for those of you unfamiliar with the Fever series (READ IT) there is this caste of fae that Mac refers to as death-by-sex fae.
They’re horrifying. Basically they have the ability to make you orgasm just by looking at you, which is not as fun as you’d think, especially when you don’t consent. And sex with them makes you into a mindless addict. It pretty much fries your brain for anything but sex. You would literally starve to death because you were too busy having sex to even feel hunger. And they don’t care because humans are basically just playthings to the fae.
Therefore, when Mac tells V'lane to go fuck himself because she’s not going to do it for him, I always give a cheer. High five girl.
“Yes, I have loved, Ms. Lane, and although it’s none of your business, I have lost. Many things. And no, I am not like any other player in this game and I will never be like V'lane, and I get a hard-on a great deal more often than occasionally.”
He leaned fully against me and I gasped.
“Sometimes it’s over a spoiled little girl, not a woman at all. And yes, I trashed the bookstore when I couldn’t find you. You’ll have to choose a new bedroom, too. And I’m sorry your pretty little world got all screwed up, but everybody’s does, and you go on. It’s how you go on that defines you.”
His hand relaxed on my throat.
“And I am going to tattoo you, Ms. Lane, however and wherever I please.”