He opened his mouth again, hopefully to lay out a ready-made rescue plan, when Sebastian came back and plopped a large round pan on the tabletop. The twins whooped and reached for the food. Sebastian whacked both of their heads and they paused, hands frozen midair. “We have a guest,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
They deflated, then looked at me expectantly. I eyed the green stuff that was smothering the accompanying cheese and red sauce. Vegetables. Nope. “Don’t stop on my account. Go right ahead.”
“He didn’t poison the food. Pinkie promise,” one of the twins said, blond eyebrows raised.
“I believe you. Nerves though—they kill my appetite.” Small lie. I glared at the vegetables. And a worthy lie at that.
Caspar shrugged his big shoulders before diving in. “No problem, tiny shifter. Nerves make me extra hungry. I’ll eat your share.”
I waved him on and watched with amusement as the twins glared daggers in his direction. The tension in my muscles had lessened, but I was still waiting for the next step. Unconsciously, I rubbed at the dragon brand.
“Where’d you get that piece of work?” one of the twins asked. Man, they were nosier than me. “The design doesn’t really jive with the rest of your look.” Several throats cleared uncomfortably as they were no doubt remembering my earlier entrance.
“No, this one wasn't my choice.” I coughed, trying to loosen the knot in my throat. I knew the twins weren’t the only curious ones though—all the Fae had taken turns eyeing my bruises, the unhealed cuts. “Mordecai has an interesting way of . . . claiming ownership. Even of people.”
A fist slammed on the table, making me jump. “That sadistic piece of—”
I looked up at Sebastian’s irate face, only then realizing how very tall he was. And how genuinely angry.
“Sit down, Sebastian,” his father ordered, turning to me apologetically. “Forgive my sons their intrusive questions, and my own. You’re an anomaly is all. Practically the right hand of Mordecai himself and yet, here you are.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” I shrugged quickly to put them at ease. “Ask your questions. I need your trust more than you need mine, especially if we stand any chance of saving Tarik.”
Elias watched me for a long moment as he fiddled with the side of his glasses, then nodded slowly. “I can see why Tarik likes you.” I stared at him, unsure what to make of his words. He lifted his shoulder, adding, “We all need someone who’s willing to fight for us, even on the bad days. Especially on the bad days.”
Rebel Leader studied his son with a touch of pride. “You’re right, Elias. Which brings me to what I must ask of you, Reagan. If we are to successfully rescue those trapped Fae, we need your . . . special talents.”
“I’ll do anything,” I said quietly. “I know the reputation I have with the Fae, but I need you to know that I’m not what I’ve been trained to be. I want to help your people, not harm them.”
He leaned back in his chair and smiled slowly. Uh oh. What had I volunteered myself for? “I’m glad to hear that, because this is what I need you to do . . .”
“All right, he’s under. Start the procedure.”
The foggy words came from down a long tunnel, distant, echoing. Ghostly. My body floated on nothing, my mind losing touch with reality. The pain washed away, replaced with sweet, calming peace. I wanted to stay here forever, escape the guilt and suffering that living etched on my soul.
At first, the tug bordered on pleasant, careful and controlled. When the incessant tingling between my shoulder blades started, I was almost distracted from my blissful peace. But I slowly adjusted to the sensation and drifted off once again. Then a loud rip, followed by splintering agony, destroyed my world.
My mind screamed, raking at my brain. Demanded I join the living and save myself.
I don’t want to. I inwardly curled into a ball and did my best to ignore the frantic shaking, the yelling, the pleas.
You’re dying! my mind whimpered. Fight back!
I shook my head. No. Living is too painful. I can’t bear it any longer. The world is better off without me.
You’re a selfish coward. What about those who need you?
I thrashed, trying to dislodge the plaguing voice in my head that never rested. “No one . . . needs me.”
“Hold him down!” a female barked.
“I’m trying! He’s fighting the anesthesia!”
Wait. Anesthesia?
My mind stilled as that word sunk in deep. Don’t move.
“Are we good to go now?” the female asked.
A pause, then, “Yes, he’s fully under now. Proceed with the wing experiment.”
A beat took up residence in my skull. A shrill whine in my ears. My wings. Gaia help me, they were not going to touch my wings. For once, my mind and I completely agreed. When I rejoined the living, I became aware of hands on my shoulders and spine—prying, digging, searching . . .
They were trying to pry out my wings.
I exploded.
With a flex of my shoulders, my wings snapped straight. The action felt like a thousand needles impaling my back. I almost went under again. But at the shrieks of surprise, my body tensed, ready for more.
You’re the master of your pain.
Fight back.
As my eyes cracked open, slowly sweeping the pristine white medical room, I whispered, “Always.” And unleashed myself.
Or at least, I tried to. The dismount from the examination table was wobbly at best. My legs felt strange as I balanced on them, like they weren’t mine. Like I was in a different body, actually. I glanced down at my still-naked form and frowned.
I didn’t used to have a six pack.
My gut roiled. Had they transplanted my head onto someone else’s body?
Pounding feet came from the hallway and several shifters barged into the room, sliding to a halt at the sight of me in all my glory. I almost struck an Alec pose but didn’t have time.
