Wicked Lovely

CHAPTER 20

When Aislinn woke—the clock's red numbers proclaiming it past 9:00—the evening's events came crashing down on her. The weird drinks, dancing, telling Keenan she knew what he was as they watched the sunrise, him kissing her. That was the last thing she remembered. What else happened? How did I get home? When? She bolted out of bed, barely making it to the bathroom before she threw up. Oh my God.

She sat with her face against the cold porcelain until she was sure she could stand without vomiting again. Her whole body trembled, like she had the flu, but it wasn't the flu making her feel so awful. It was terror. He knows I see them. He knows. They'll come for me, and Grams…The thought of her Grams fighting faeries almost made her sick again. I need to get out of here.

After brushing her teeth and washing her face, Aislinn hurriedly slipped on jeans and a shirt, shoved her feet into boots, and grabbed her bag.

Grams was in the kitchen, staring at the coffeepot, a bit less observant before her morning jolt.

Aislinn pointed at her ear.

Grams turned on her hearing aid and asked, "Everything okay?"

"Just running late, Grams. Overslept." Aislinn gave her a quick hug and turned to leave.

"But breakfast…"

"Sorry. I need to, umm, meet Seth. I thought I told you? We were to have a breakfast thing, date…" She tried to keep her voice steady.

Don't let her see how worried I am.

Grams was already too fearful after their talk the other night; adding to that would be selfish.

"You know you aren't fooling me, Aislinn, dodging me so I don't ask about that issue. We're going to talk about it." Grams scowled. "It isn't any better, is it?"

Aislinn paused. "Just a few more days, Grams. Please?"

For a minute Grams looked like she was going to balk: she pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips. Then she sighed. "Not a few days. Tomorrow we'll talk. You understand?"

"Promise." Aislinn kissed her good-bye, grateful to put it off even one day more. She wasn't sure she could handle that conversation, not now.

I need Seth. I didn't even call him last night.

"I can't believe I did that." Aislinn put her head between her knees and concentrated on not vomiting on her feet. "I told him I knew they were faeries."

Seth sat on the floor beside her feet. He was patting her back, making small soothing circles. "It's okay. Come on. Breathe. Just breathe."

"It's not okay, Seth." Her voice was muffled by her decidedly uncomfortable posture. She lifted her head enough to scowl at him. "They used to kill people, gouge out their eyes for knowing what they were."

The nausea rose again. She closed her eyes.

"Shh." He moved closer, comforting her the way he'd always done when she fell apart. "Come on."

"What if they blind me? What if…"

"Stop. We'll figure it out." He pulled her into his lap, cradling her like a child.

Just like Keenan did last night.

She tried to stand up, feeling guilty, like she'd betrayed Seth even though all she did was dance—she hoped.

What if I, Keenan, we…She started to sob again.

"Shush." Seth rocked her, murmuring reassuring words.

And she let him—until she started to think about faeries again and dancing with Keenan and kissing him and not knowing what else might have happened.

She pulled away and stood.

Seth stayed on the floor. He propped his head up on one hand, his elbow on the seat of the chair where she'd been sitting.

She ducked her head, unable to look at him. "So what do we do about it?"

He came to stand beside her. "We improvise. He promised you a favor. If the books are right, vows are like laws."

She nodded.

He stepped in front of her and leaned forward until the longer strands of his hair fell like a web over her face. "The rest we'll deal with too."

Then he kissed her—softly, tenderly, lovingly—and said, "We'll get this figured out. Together. I'm here with you, Ash, even after you tell me what else happened."

"What do you mean?" Aislinn felt the world swim again.

"You drank something that messed you up, danced until dawn, and woke up in your bed sick." He cradled her face in his hands. "What else happened?"

"I don't know." She shivered.

"Okay, how did you get home?"

"I don't know." She remembered the taste of sunshine, the feel of sunbeams falling onto her as she stared up at Keenan's face, as he leaned toward her. What happened?

"Did you go anywhere else?"

She whispered, "I don't know."

"Sleep with him?" He looked straight at her as he asked it, the question she'd been trying—and failing—to answer.

"I don't know." She looked away, feeling sicker with the words hanging there like something awful. I'd know, right? That's something I'd remember. Right?"

He pulled her into his arms, tucking her under his chin, as if he could keep her safe from all the bad things by keeping her close enough. "I don't know. Are there any flashes of memories? Anything?"

"I remember dancing, drinking, sitting on some strange chair, and then the carnival was gone. He kissed me." She shivered again. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault." He stroked his hand over her hair.

She tried to pull away.

He didn't force her to stay, but he kept his hands on her arms. He looked so serious, so adamant. "Listen to me. If something happened, it wasn't your fault. He gave you some drug, some faery booze. You were drunk, high, whatever, and what happened afterward isn't your fault."

"I remember laughing, having fun." She looked down at her hands, clenched tightly so they didn't shake. "I was having fun, Seth. What if I did do something? What if I said yes?"

"Doesn't matter. If you're fucked up, you can't consent. It's that simple. He shouldn't have done anything, Ash. If he did, he's the one who's wrong. Not you." He sounded angry, but he didn't tell her that he had been right, that she shouldn't have gone. He didn't say anything awful to her. Instead he tucked her hair behind her ear and let his hand rest on her face, gently tilting her head so she looked at him. "And we don't know that anything did happen."

"I just wanted the first time to be with someone special, and if I, if we, it's just wrong." She felt half foolish for worrying about it—exposed to the wrath of a faery king and she worried about her virginity. He could take her life; he could take her eyes. Her virginity shouldn't matter so much.

But it does.

She walked away, going over to curl up in the comfort of Seth's sofa. "I'm sorry. You were right, and I—"

He interrupted, "There's nothing for you to be sorry for. You're not wrong. I'm not upset with you. It's him—" He stopped. He didn't move, just stood there in the middle of the room, watching her. "You're what matters."

"Hold me? If you still want to, I mean." She looked away.

"Every day" — then he was there, lifting her into his arms, holding her like she was fragile and precious—"I want to hold you every day. Nothing will ever change that."