Wicked by Jennifer L. Armentrout
"What?"
His fingers moved in a slow, torturous circle over my tip. "The sound you make when I please you."
My cheeks burned as I tried to catch my breath. His mouth left mine, trailing a path down my neck, nipping at my skin. He trailed the lacy edges of my bra, then his agile fingers made their way inside the cup, and my back arched, pressing my breast against his flesh. The skin on skin contact thrilled me and heated my blood. When he caught my nipple between his fingers, the sexiest sound I'd ever heard rumbled out of his chest.
I reached for the button on his jeans, popping it through its hole, then I tugged his zipper down. I glanced up when he caught my wrist.
His eyes were on fire. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"I . . . I just want to touch you."
Those thick lashes fluttered, then he guided my hand inside his loosened jeans. My fingers brushed the hot, hard thickness, and I gasped. "You're not wearing . . ."
The grin he gave me was mischievous as his hand moved to my other breast. "I was still in bed when you called. Left in a hurry."
"I'd say," I murmured, turned on in a ridiculous way with the knowledge that he'd been bare under his jeans the whole time.
I stilled as he slipped both hands under each cup. He tugged the bra down, baring my breasts, and he shuddered again, the act making me hot.
"Fuck," he murmured. "I am not worthy of this."
Before I could respond to such an untrue statement, he lowered his head to my breast and took one aching tip into his mouth. I cried out, my senses twisting with each hot, wet pull. My hips rotated, and using my other hand, I pulled on his jeans. He lifted his up, helping me ease them down, baring himself.
Lost in the sensations he was stirring inside me, I rested my cheek against his as he moved one hand down my stomach, inside my loose sweatpants as I wrapped my palm around the base of his hardness. He jerked, his entire body responding to my touch. A teasing bite caused me to cry out, and then I shuddered when his fingers brushed the center of my panties.
His breath was warm in my ear. "I'm going to make you come."
A tight shiver racked me, and I closed my eyes. I stroked him slowly, unsure of what to do because it had been so incredibly long since I'd last done something like this. He groaned against my neck, skimming a finger over my center. A knot tightened low in my belly.
"Am I doing this right?" I whispered.
"Fuck, Ivy. You're doing it perfect." He drew back, scorching a path of kisses along my cheek. He captured my mouth, taking me deeply. "Anything you do is going to be right. Anything."
Encouraged by that, I leaned back and looked down—and then stared, gawked at him like a total idiot, but I couldn't help it, because he wanted me and I wanted him. There was a power in that I had forgotten all about, and probably never fully understood anyway, at least not until now.
"I have a secret to admit," he said, curving his hand over mine while he continued to tease me with his other.
"You do?" I asked, breathless.
He eased my hand up his length. "I did this last night when I got home. I was so fucking turned on by you. I had to."
Oh God.
Turning my head, I found his mouth and kissed him, overwhelmed by what he'd admitted. My grip on him tightened, and he rocked against my palm. Both of us were breathing fast as he gripped the back of my neck while he slipped his fingers under my panties. My heart stuttered as he eased a finger through the wetness gathering between my thighs and then inside me.
"You're so tight," he said against my mouth. "You're not—"
I shook my head, but he'd stopped moving. Taking it on myself, I pushed down on his hand, forcing his finger in further and his palm against the bundle of nerves. "Oh God," I gasped. That was all I was capable of saying as he worked his finger in and out, in and out.
Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire. My body tingled as pleasure shot through me. We kissed deeply as I rode his hand and stroked him, our rhythms matching until the tension built to an unbearable point. I pushed against his hand frantically, and he groaned into my mouth. Wetness gathered at his tip, and I knew he was close—I was close—no, I was there. I kicked my head back, crying out as the knot quickly unraveled, spiraling pleasure throughout me. Tremors rocked my body, and then his hips thrust up, his thickness spasming against my hand.
I don't know how much time passed before either of us seemed capable of moving, of withdrawing our hands from one another's bodies, but we didn't part. He gathered me in his arms and held me tight against him as my heartbeat slowed. His breathing was deep, ragged, as he pressed a kiss against my temple.
"Stay for a little while and I'll take you home?" he asked.
The smart thing for me to do was to say no and skedaddle on out of here as fast as my feet would carry me because I'd accomplished what I set out to do. He wasn't sad anymore. Bonus points for both of us getting off, but I was warm in his embrace. My muscles didn't want to do the running away thing, and I felt cherished, not alone, and that was an amazing feeling I wasn't ready to give up yet.
Even knowing my head was now fully under water, I snuggled closer. "I'll stay."
~
It was late when Ren drove me back to my apartment, switching out his bike for the truck because it had started to rain, and it took me quite some time to make my way out of the cab of his truck.
Totally not my fault though.
I tried to slip out, but before my fingers even brushed the handle of the door, Ren snaked an arm around my waist and hauled me across the seat. Fat drops of rain pelted the window and coursed down in tiny rivers as he captured my wrists.
"Ren?"
With a half smile, he guided my hands to his chest, and I could feel his heart pounding under my palm. "You've got to learn something, Ivy."
I raised my brows, desperately trying to play it cool even though my pulse had picked up. "Learn what? You're grabby and touchy-feely? I already know that."
"Smartass." He chuckled, lowering his head to mine. "You don't leave without a kiss."
My breath caught. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
In that lovely truck with the windows fogged over, he held my hands to his chest as he kissed me like he was dying of thirst and I was his own personal bucket of water. He made that sound—that masculine, deep growl that rumbled out from him and caused a rush of heat to flood my senses. Our kisses burned between us, turning into touching. His hands drifted under my top and his fingers followed the length of my spine. Mine found their way under his shirt, mapping out the dips and planes of his stomach. I had no control of my fingers, especially when they became super interested in getting under the band of his jeans.
"We need to stop," he said, voice thick as he lifted his mouth from mine. In the soft yellow glow of the dome light, I could see his lips were as swollen as mine felt. "Or I have a feeling we're going to get arrested for lewd behavior."
Cheeks heated and body burning, it was hard for me to pull away, but I did and I said goodbye. We had plans to meet up after my classes to talk to Jerome. "Tomorrow?"
He swallowed hard and nodded.
I climbed out of the truck and hopped into the cold rain. My mind raced as I darted across the sidewalk and through the gate. What was I doing with him? Getting off, obviously, but it was more than that. Oh God, it was so much more than that, and instead of being completely nauseated over it, there was excitement and a burgeoning hope that I could have a taste of normal amongst all the crazy.
Did I dare to even have it? Today was the closest to normal I'd known in ages. We hung out on the couch, ordered takeout, and watched a marathon of some reality show on a cable channel. We didn't talk about our jobs—the ancients or the doorways—even though we were only three days away from the equinox and that should've been our priority. We just . . . hung out like anyone our age would, and I wouldn't change—
Heavy footsteps behind me were my only warning as I neared the stairs. I turned, ready to kung fu someone into next week, but it was Ren. I lowered my hands. "What the—?"
Ren was on me before I could finish whatever it was I was about to say. His hands landed on my hips, and he picked me up as he pushed me back against the stone. My body's reaction seemed immediate. Legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, a strangled gasp parted my lips seconds before he was kissing me again. I could feel him against the center of my legs, and in spite of the cold rain, it heated my skin.
Ren's hips pressed against mine in all the ways that were fun and naughty and totally led to lewd and lavish acts, but I wasn't thinking about possible jail time or fines as his hands cupped my face.
Lightning split the sky and thunder crashed, but all I could hear was my pounding heart. All I could feel was Ren pressed against me as our lips melded together. I was so ready to lose myself in him. Our bodies rocked and our hands became slippery. I don't know how long we kissed, but our clothes were soaked and my body was trembling by the time we came up for air. His lips skated over my cheeks, and his hands drifted to my throat, tipping my head back.
Hair plastered from the rain and rivulets running down his face, he looked like a god of the sea. "Thank you for today. You have no idea how much you being there meant to me." He kissed the tip of my nose, pulling back and gently setting me on my feet. "Tomorrow."
Then he was gone, disappearing into the rain like some kind of phantom lover.
"Jesus," I whispered. Lightning cut the sky open, quickly chased by a thunderous boom.
I ended up stumbling into my apartment half out of it and totally drenched. Tink was in the living room, and he took one long, strange look at me and said nothing, fluttering into his room. And that was fine by me. My head was in a thousand places, and I didn't have the mental fortitude required to engage with Tink.
I slept like the dead Sunday night. Actually, I slept like someone who just experienced an orgasm that wasn't self-induced for the first time in years, which was totally accurate. Either way, I woke up quite refreshed, but as I did my morning run and got ready for school, something nagged at me, a shadow of a thought that lingered just at the fringes of consciousness. I couldn't quite grasp it each time I reached for it.
Before I headed to class on Monday I managed to sway Tink into baking a cake by promising to provide him with a buffet of beignets when I got home from my shift. I hoped the baked goods would warm Jerome up enough so he would be of some help. It was a long shot assuming that he knew anything, but there weren't many other options left.
Tink flitted from the small pantry to the cabinets, grabbing flour and brown sugar. "You're lucky I always demand we keep a stash of baking powder and baker's chocolate."
"That I am." I backed out of the kitchen, my thoughts tiptoeing over the recent events. I remembered something I'd forgotten while I'd been at Merle's yesterday. The first time I tried to visit her, something had been in her garden. It could've been a sparrow for all I knew, but what if it were another brownie? How long had it been here? Better yet, how in the world had Tink gotten here without us knowing something had come through the gate? It's not like I never thought about this question before, but now knowing everything that I did, the flaws in Tink's story seemed more visible.
I think he lied to me. It was difficult to believe that, but there was a lot I just discovered recently that one would think a creature from the Otherworld should know.
Not paying attention to me, Tink lugged a mixing bowl out of the cabinet as I watched him. I hesitated at the entryway to the kitchen, wincing as the metal bowl clanged off the counter when he dropped it. For some reason, I thought about how he got here—the location of the cemetery. "Tink?"
He didn't look over at me as he pulled a spatula from the drawer and buzzed around the kitchen. "You're interrupting my me time. And you know baking is my me time."
Leaning against the doorframe, I didn't rise to the bait like I typically would. My thoughts were too conflicted. Did Tink not know about the halflings? Because if he did, why hadn't he told me? And what about the gates? I glanced at the clock, seeing that I needed to leave soon so I would make it to class on time. "When I found you in the cemetery, do you remember how far away from the gate you were?"
Tink turned around, clutching the spatula close to him. "No. I told you before, I don't even remember coming through the gate. I woke up in the cemetery, my poor wing snapped, my leg broken, beaten like an orphan kid in regency England. I was a pitiful wee creature."
"Um, okay. Anyway." I straightened the strap on my bag and shifted my weight. "Did you know there were two gates in the city?"
The spatula slipped an inch between his hands as his pale eyes widened to the size of nickels. "What?"
"Remember Merle?" When he nodded, I continued. "She said there were two gates in the city—one in an old sanctuary, and the other in a place where no spirits or humans could rest."
A frown marred his face as he placed the spatula on the counter instead of dropping it. Hovering in the air, his translucent wings moved silently. "No. There have never been two gates."
"Could there just be two gates and you never knew? I know the fae only know the gate they come through, so maybe there are more cities with more than one gate."
He shook his head. "No. That can't . . . well, nothing is impossible. I mean, look at you. You spent all of Sunday with a guy, and I never thought that would happen."
I started to scowl.
"But two gates? That would be . . ." His gaze drifted to the window, his brows furrowed. "That would be very bad."
"Yeah," I said, pushing off the doorframe. I started to leave but stopped. Tink was still focused on the window, expression surprisingly serious. "Do you know about halflings?"
His head swung toward me sharply, and he didn't have to say a word. I knew that he was fully aware of halflings. It was written all over his face, in the way his jaw had dropped, and the slight flare of understanding in his big eyes.
My stomach sunk like it was full of sharp stones. Our eyes met, and I found it hard to breathe around the knot in my throat. "Why . . . why haven't you told me about them before?"
Tink stared back at me wordlessly.
"Having that kind of information would've been helpful to know because I'm assuming you're aware of what could happen if the prince or the princess gets a hold of a halfling." My voice was strangely thick. I tried to tell myself I didn't care if Tink hadn't been forthcoming with information, but I was angry. Angry because I willingly brought him into my house and I never really questioned him. I blindly accepted what little information he'd told me, and I don't even know why I had done so. Looking back, there was no simple justification as to why I never pushed Tink.
God, the answer to why was so glaring and right in my face. Ever since I'd lost my adoptive parents and Shaun, I'd closed myself off to everyone in a distressed attempt to never feel that kind of hurt again. Val had wiggled her way in, and so had Jo Ann, but that hadn't been enough. Deep down, I knew that. I'd still been so desperate to be close, to forge a bond to anything, and I still was. Look at Ren.
And as Tink continued to stare back at me helplessly, I knew—dammit, I knew he wasn't being upfront with me.
He lowered his gaze and heaved a great sigh. Floating down to the edge of the counter, he sat, his wings drooping on either side of his bent back. "You would not understand, Ivy."
Closing my eyes, I took a second before I reopened them and responded. "Why don't you try me, Tink? For once?"
His face flinched. "I haven't lied to you. Not really." As I cocked my head to the side, he pressed his hands together under his chin. "I just haven't been entirely communicative."
"Do not try to act cute right now," I warned him, letting my backpack slip off my arm and land against the door.
"I'm not. I swear." He lowered his hands to his lap, his shoulders slumping. "I had one job. And I failed."
"You're not an Internet meme."
He shook his head. "My job was to destroy the gate in New Orleans."
I stiffened. "What?"
Tink lifted his chin. "Your guardians basically only guard those gates—their positions are virtually useless except for the fact that they hold knowledge of the location, and that makes them only valuable to the fae. One does not simply walk to a gateway and open it."
All I could do was stare at him.
"If the blood of an ancient is shed on the doorway from inside the Otherworld, it destroys the door. If the blood of an ancient is shed on the outside, it opens the door," he explained. "We knew what the fae would do if the ancients ever crossed over to this world en masse. They would destroy it like they've been destroying the Otherworld. You see, our world . . . it's dying, because of what they're doing. They need to get out, but we . . ." He balled up a fist, pressing it to his chest. "My kind have done everything in our power to stop them, and two and a half years ago we believed we had succeeded in destroying the gates from the inside. It's a suicide mission to do so, but one we gladly take."
"Wait. Are you saying all the gates have been rendered useless?"
Tink lifted his wings and stood. "We found all of them in the Otherworld, and we destroyed them by luring ancients to the gates and killing them. Or being killed. A lot of us have died that way, and we would have to send another." He frowned as his arms hung limply at his sides. "I should've died that day. I wasn't lying when I told you I don't even remember coming through the gate. I
His fingers moved in a slow, torturous circle over my tip. "The sound you make when I please you."
My cheeks burned as I tried to catch my breath. His mouth left mine, trailing a path down my neck, nipping at my skin. He trailed the lacy edges of my bra, then his agile fingers made their way inside the cup, and my back arched, pressing my breast against his flesh. The skin on skin contact thrilled me and heated my blood. When he caught my nipple between his fingers, the sexiest sound I'd ever heard rumbled out of his chest.
I reached for the button on his jeans, popping it through its hole, then I tugged his zipper down. I glanced up when he caught my wrist.
His eyes were on fire. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"I . . . I just want to touch you."
Those thick lashes fluttered, then he guided my hand inside his loosened jeans. My fingers brushed the hot, hard thickness, and I gasped. "You're not wearing . . ."
The grin he gave me was mischievous as his hand moved to my other breast. "I was still in bed when you called. Left in a hurry."
"I'd say," I murmured, turned on in a ridiculous way with the knowledge that he'd been bare under his jeans the whole time.
I stilled as he slipped both hands under each cup. He tugged the bra down, baring my breasts, and he shuddered again, the act making me hot.
"Fuck," he murmured. "I am not worthy of this."
Before I could respond to such an untrue statement, he lowered his head to my breast and took one aching tip into his mouth. I cried out, my senses twisting with each hot, wet pull. My hips rotated, and using my other hand, I pulled on his jeans. He lifted his up, helping me ease them down, baring himself.
Lost in the sensations he was stirring inside me, I rested my cheek against his as he moved one hand down my stomach, inside my loose sweatpants as I wrapped my palm around the base of his hardness. He jerked, his entire body responding to my touch. A teasing bite caused me to cry out, and then I shuddered when his fingers brushed the center of my panties.
His breath was warm in my ear. "I'm going to make you come."
A tight shiver racked me, and I closed my eyes. I stroked him slowly, unsure of what to do because it had been so incredibly long since I'd last done something like this. He groaned against my neck, skimming a finger over my center. A knot tightened low in my belly.
"Am I doing this right?" I whispered.
"Fuck, Ivy. You're doing it perfect." He drew back, scorching a path of kisses along my cheek. He captured my mouth, taking me deeply. "Anything you do is going to be right. Anything."
Encouraged by that, I leaned back and looked down—and then stared, gawked at him like a total idiot, but I couldn't help it, because he wanted me and I wanted him. There was a power in that I had forgotten all about, and probably never fully understood anyway, at least not until now.
"I have a secret to admit," he said, curving his hand over mine while he continued to tease me with his other.
"You do?" I asked, breathless.
He eased my hand up his length. "I did this last night when I got home. I was so fucking turned on by you. I had to."
Oh God.
Turning my head, I found his mouth and kissed him, overwhelmed by what he'd admitted. My grip on him tightened, and he rocked against my palm. Both of us were breathing fast as he gripped the back of my neck while he slipped his fingers under my panties. My heart stuttered as he eased a finger through the wetness gathering between my thighs and then inside me.
"You're so tight," he said against my mouth. "You're not—"
I shook my head, but he'd stopped moving. Taking it on myself, I pushed down on his hand, forcing his finger in further and his palm against the bundle of nerves. "Oh God," I gasped. That was all I was capable of saying as he worked his finger in and out, in and out.
Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire. My body tingled as pleasure shot through me. We kissed deeply as I rode his hand and stroked him, our rhythms matching until the tension built to an unbearable point. I pushed against his hand frantically, and he groaned into my mouth. Wetness gathered at his tip, and I knew he was close—I was close—no, I was there. I kicked my head back, crying out as the knot quickly unraveled, spiraling pleasure throughout me. Tremors rocked my body, and then his hips thrust up, his thickness spasming against my hand.
I don't know how much time passed before either of us seemed capable of moving, of withdrawing our hands from one another's bodies, but we didn't part. He gathered me in his arms and held me tight against him as my heartbeat slowed. His breathing was deep, ragged, as he pressed a kiss against my temple.
"Stay for a little while and I'll take you home?" he asked.
The smart thing for me to do was to say no and skedaddle on out of here as fast as my feet would carry me because I'd accomplished what I set out to do. He wasn't sad anymore. Bonus points for both of us getting off, but I was warm in his embrace. My muscles didn't want to do the running away thing, and I felt cherished, not alone, and that was an amazing feeling I wasn't ready to give up yet.
Even knowing my head was now fully under water, I snuggled closer. "I'll stay."
~
It was late when Ren drove me back to my apartment, switching out his bike for the truck because it had started to rain, and it took me quite some time to make my way out of the cab of his truck.
Totally not my fault though.
I tried to slip out, but before my fingers even brushed the handle of the door, Ren snaked an arm around my waist and hauled me across the seat. Fat drops of rain pelted the window and coursed down in tiny rivers as he captured my wrists.
"Ren?"
With a half smile, he guided my hands to his chest, and I could feel his heart pounding under my palm. "You've got to learn something, Ivy."
I raised my brows, desperately trying to play it cool even though my pulse had picked up. "Learn what? You're grabby and touchy-feely? I already know that."
"Smartass." He chuckled, lowering his head to mine. "You don't leave without a kiss."
My breath caught. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
In that lovely truck with the windows fogged over, he held my hands to his chest as he kissed me like he was dying of thirst and I was his own personal bucket of water. He made that sound—that masculine, deep growl that rumbled out from him and caused a rush of heat to flood my senses. Our kisses burned between us, turning into touching. His hands drifted under my top and his fingers followed the length of my spine. Mine found their way under his shirt, mapping out the dips and planes of his stomach. I had no control of my fingers, especially when they became super interested in getting under the band of his jeans.
"We need to stop," he said, voice thick as he lifted his mouth from mine. In the soft yellow glow of the dome light, I could see his lips were as swollen as mine felt. "Or I have a feeling we're going to get arrested for lewd behavior."
Cheeks heated and body burning, it was hard for me to pull away, but I did and I said goodbye. We had plans to meet up after my classes to talk to Jerome. "Tomorrow?"
He swallowed hard and nodded.
I climbed out of the truck and hopped into the cold rain. My mind raced as I darted across the sidewalk and through the gate. What was I doing with him? Getting off, obviously, but it was more than that. Oh God, it was so much more than that, and instead of being completely nauseated over it, there was excitement and a burgeoning hope that I could have a taste of normal amongst all the crazy.
Did I dare to even have it? Today was the closest to normal I'd known in ages. We hung out on the couch, ordered takeout, and watched a marathon of some reality show on a cable channel. We didn't talk about our jobs—the ancients or the doorways—even though we were only three days away from the equinox and that should've been our priority. We just . . . hung out like anyone our age would, and I wouldn't change—
Heavy footsteps behind me were my only warning as I neared the stairs. I turned, ready to kung fu someone into next week, but it was Ren. I lowered my hands. "What the—?"
Ren was on me before I could finish whatever it was I was about to say. His hands landed on my hips, and he picked me up as he pushed me back against the stone. My body's reaction seemed immediate. Legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, a strangled gasp parted my lips seconds before he was kissing me again. I could feel him against the center of my legs, and in spite of the cold rain, it heated my skin.
Ren's hips pressed against mine in all the ways that were fun and naughty and totally led to lewd and lavish acts, but I wasn't thinking about possible jail time or fines as his hands cupped my face.
Lightning split the sky and thunder crashed, but all I could hear was my pounding heart. All I could feel was Ren pressed against me as our lips melded together. I was so ready to lose myself in him. Our bodies rocked and our hands became slippery. I don't know how long we kissed, but our clothes were soaked and my body was trembling by the time we came up for air. His lips skated over my cheeks, and his hands drifted to my throat, tipping my head back.
Hair plastered from the rain and rivulets running down his face, he looked like a god of the sea. "Thank you for today. You have no idea how much you being there meant to me." He kissed the tip of my nose, pulling back and gently setting me on my feet. "Tomorrow."
Then he was gone, disappearing into the rain like some kind of phantom lover.
"Jesus," I whispered. Lightning cut the sky open, quickly chased by a thunderous boom.
I ended up stumbling into my apartment half out of it and totally drenched. Tink was in the living room, and he took one long, strange look at me and said nothing, fluttering into his room. And that was fine by me. My head was in a thousand places, and I didn't have the mental fortitude required to engage with Tink.
I slept like the dead Sunday night. Actually, I slept like someone who just experienced an orgasm that wasn't self-induced for the first time in years, which was totally accurate. Either way, I woke up quite refreshed, but as I did my morning run and got ready for school, something nagged at me, a shadow of a thought that lingered just at the fringes of consciousness. I couldn't quite grasp it each time I reached for it.
Before I headed to class on Monday I managed to sway Tink into baking a cake by promising to provide him with a buffet of beignets when I got home from my shift. I hoped the baked goods would warm Jerome up enough so he would be of some help. It was a long shot assuming that he knew anything, but there weren't many other options left.
Tink flitted from the small pantry to the cabinets, grabbing flour and brown sugar. "You're lucky I always demand we keep a stash of baking powder and baker's chocolate."
"That I am." I backed out of the kitchen, my thoughts tiptoeing over the recent events. I remembered something I'd forgotten while I'd been at Merle's yesterday. The first time I tried to visit her, something had been in her garden. It could've been a sparrow for all I knew, but what if it were another brownie? How long had it been here? Better yet, how in the world had Tink gotten here without us knowing something had come through the gate? It's not like I never thought about this question before, but now knowing everything that I did, the flaws in Tink's story seemed more visible.
I think he lied to me. It was difficult to believe that, but there was a lot I just discovered recently that one would think a creature from the Otherworld should know.
Not paying attention to me, Tink lugged a mixing bowl out of the cabinet as I watched him. I hesitated at the entryway to the kitchen, wincing as the metal bowl clanged off the counter when he dropped it. For some reason, I thought about how he got here—the location of the cemetery. "Tink?"
He didn't look over at me as he pulled a spatula from the drawer and buzzed around the kitchen. "You're interrupting my me time. And you know baking is my me time."
Leaning against the doorframe, I didn't rise to the bait like I typically would. My thoughts were too conflicted. Did Tink not know about the halflings? Because if he did, why hadn't he told me? And what about the gates? I glanced at the clock, seeing that I needed to leave soon so I would make it to class on time. "When I found you in the cemetery, do you remember how far away from the gate you were?"
Tink turned around, clutching the spatula close to him. "No. I told you before, I don't even remember coming through the gate. I woke up in the cemetery, my poor wing snapped, my leg broken, beaten like an orphan kid in regency England. I was a pitiful wee creature."
"Um, okay. Anyway." I straightened the strap on my bag and shifted my weight. "Did you know there were two gates in the city?"
The spatula slipped an inch between his hands as his pale eyes widened to the size of nickels. "What?"
"Remember Merle?" When he nodded, I continued. "She said there were two gates in the city—one in an old sanctuary, and the other in a place where no spirits or humans could rest."
A frown marred his face as he placed the spatula on the counter instead of dropping it. Hovering in the air, his translucent wings moved silently. "No. There have never been two gates."
"Could there just be two gates and you never knew? I know the fae only know the gate they come through, so maybe there are more cities with more than one gate."
He shook his head. "No. That can't . . . well, nothing is impossible. I mean, look at you. You spent all of Sunday with a guy, and I never thought that would happen."
I started to scowl.
"But two gates? That would be . . ." His gaze drifted to the window, his brows furrowed. "That would be very bad."
"Yeah," I said, pushing off the doorframe. I started to leave but stopped. Tink was still focused on the window, expression surprisingly serious. "Do you know about halflings?"
His head swung toward me sharply, and he didn't have to say a word. I knew that he was fully aware of halflings. It was written all over his face, in the way his jaw had dropped, and the slight flare of understanding in his big eyes.
My stomach sunk like it was full of sharp stones. Our eyes met, and I found it hard to breathe around the knot in my throat. "Why . . . why haven't you told me about them before?"
Tink stared back at me wordlessly.
"Having that kind of information would've been helpful to know because I'm assuming you're aware of what could happen if the prince or the princess gets a hold of a halfling." My voice was strangely thick. I tried to tell myself I didn't care if Tink hadn't been forthcoming with information, but I was angry. Angry because I willingly brought him into my house and I never really questioned him. I blindly accepted what little information he'd told me, and I don't even know why I had done so. Looking back, there was no simple justification as to why I never pushed Tink.
God, the answer to why was so glaring and right in my face. Ever since I'd lost my adoptive parents and Shaun, I'd closed myself off to everyone in a distressed attempt to never feel that kind of hurt again. Val had wiggled her way in, and so had Jo Ann, but that hadn't been enough. Deep down, I knew that. I'd still been so desperate to be close, to forge a bond to anything, and I still was. Look at Ren.
And as Tink continued to stare back at me helplessly, I knew—dammit, I knew he wasn't being upfront with me.
He lowered his gaze and heaved a great sigh. Floating down to the edge of the counter, he sat, his wings drooping on either side of his bent back. "You would not understand, Ivy."
Closing my eyes, I took a second before I reopened them and responded. "Why don't you try me, Tink? For once?"
His face flinched. "I haven't lied to you. Not really." As I cocked my head to the side, he pressed his hands together under his chin. "I just haven't been entirely communicative."
"Do not try to act cute right now," I warned him, letting my backpack slip off my arm and land against the door.
"I'm not. I swear." He lowered his hands to his lap, his shoulders slumping. "I had one job. And I failed."
"You're not an Internet meme."
He shook his head. "My job was to destroy the gate in New Orleans."
I stiffened. "What?"
Tink lifted his chin. "Your guardians basically only guard those gates—their positions are virtually useless except for the fact that they hold knowledge of the location, and that makes them only valuable to the fae. One does not simply walk to a gateway and open it."
All I could do was stare at him.
"If the blood of an ancient is shed on the doorway from inside the Otherworld, it destroys the door. If the blood of an ancient is shed on the outside, it opens the door," he explained. "We knew what the fae would do if the ancients ever crossed over to this world en masse. They would destroy it like they've been destroying the Otherworld. You see, our world . . . it's dying, because of what they're doing. They need to get out, but we . . ." He balled up a fist, pressing it to his chest. "My kind have done everything in our power to stop them, and two and a half years ago we believed we had succeeded in destroying the gates from the inside. It's a suicide mission to do so, but one we gladly take."
"Wait. Are you saying all the gates have been rendered useless?"
Tink lifted his wings and stood. "We found all of them in the Otherworld, and we destroyed them by luring ancients to the gates and killing them. Or being killed. A lot of us have died that way, and we would have to send another." He frowned as his arms hung limply at his sides. "I should've died that day. I wasn't lying when I told you I don't even remember coming through the gate. I