war.
Lysander’s lips tightened at the sight.
The swords that Faeries yielded were made of metal found only in their realm, forged in the blood that their ancestors had sacrificed. No bullets, not even those made of silver, could cut through the sword. But was it truly enough to defend their race?
Lysander only owed loyalty to two things: himself and his race. He would sacrifice his life if that would save his kind from extinction, but Lysander knew such a sacrifice would be for naught.
A fucking bubble, Lysander thought, bitter at how helpless he felt at the sight of his race’s vulnerabilities. They were living in a glass bubble, so weak against the threat of another war that they had to depend on a human to protect them.
“Would you consider training with us?” Misty asked. The thought of Lysander being under attack had suddenly occurred to her, and she immediately feared for the beautiful gay man next to her. What if he was surrounded by vampires? What could Lysander do? Strangle them with his lace cuffs this time?
Lysander feigned a look of horror. “I am a member of the High Circle, my pretty.” He showed her his hands. “Hold it.”
She gasped when she did. “Baby soft!” She shook her head in amazement. “Even Daryl’s aren’t that soft.”
“I know,” he said complacently. It was all part of his disguise.
“But…Lysander…you have to learn how to defend yourself, even just a bit. I know right now it doesn’t seem that vampires can attack you here, but you just never know…”
He adjusted his cuffs again. “If there’s someone handsome enough, perhaps.”
Misty suppressed a sigh. She wanted to bring up his past, to remind him of how horrible vampires could be, but she also knew now wasn’t the right time to do so. As they looked back at the Faeries in training, she said slowly, “I requested for a Lyccan and Caro trainer to visit us.”
Lysander’s head turned sharply towards her. This was the first time he had heard of her request, and he was immediately suspicious. “Why is that?”
“I talked about it with Milo and he agreed.” She gave him an apologetic glance. “I didn’t get to ask you because I didn’t know you’d be my co-Ambassador then. Lyccans have been warriors all their lives and Caros have been fighting vampires from the very start. I think we can learn a lot from them.”
The ‘we’ made Lysander feel extremely good, but he didn’t want to think why it was so.
A commotion at the end of the courtyard drew his attention. A crowd was gathering, the noise increasing in volume.
“Maybe the trainers had come?” Misty hazarded a guess.
“Perhaps. Let us find out.” He offered his hand, and she took it after a moment of hesitation.
They walked hand in hand, Misty forcing herself to relax. He was gay, gay, gay. How many times did she have to remind herself of that?
“I see Magenta,” Lysander, who easily towered over other Faeries, said as they neared the foot of the crowd.
“An important visitor must have come then,” Misty decided. “Magenta doesn’t…” The crowd parted slowly, and her voice trailed off, shock rendering her speechless when she saw who that important visitor was.
Domenico.
Her body tingled at the sight of him, her throat convulsing at the way he kept his eyes on her while he kept a sedate pace next to Magenta. The aura of command around Domenico was even more tangible now, one that made Misty tremble. And his clothes! She had never seen him dressed this way, geared for battle, his soldier uniform bearing the colors of the Lyccan Council.It gave her pause. Shouldn’t he be wearing black and silver, which were the colors of the Moretti pack?
The way his tight-fitted uniform showed off the sleek, hard cuts of his muscles only served to emphasize how different he was from all the men in this realm – or anyone else in the world, any man
Lysander’s lips tightened at the sight.
The swords that Faeries yielded were made of metal found only in their realm, forged in the blood that their ancestors had sacrificed. No bullets, not even those made of silver, could cut through the sword. But was it truly enough to defend their race?
Lysander only owed loyalty to two things: himself and his race. He would sacrifice his life if that would save his kind from extinction, but Lysander knew such a sacrifice would be for naught.
A fucking bubble, Lysander thought, bitter at how helpless he felt at the sight of his race’s vulnerabilities. They were living in a glass bubble, so weak against the threat of another war that they had to depend on a human to protect them.
“Would you consider training with us?” Misty asked. The thought of Lysander being under attack had suddenly occurred to her, and she immediately feared for the beautiful gay man next to her. What if he was surrounded by vampires? What could Lysander do? Strangle them with his lace cuffs this time?
Lysander feigned a look of horror. “I am a member of the High Circle, my pretty.” He showed her his hands. “Hold it.”
She gasped when she did. “Baby soft!” She shook her head in amazement. “Even Daryl’s aren’t that soft.”
“I know,” he said complacently. It was all part of his disguise.
“But…Lysander…you have to learn how to defend yourself, even just a bit. I know right now it doesn’t seem that vampires can attack you here, but you just never know…”
He adjusted his cuffs again. “If there’s someone handsome enough, perhaps.”
Misty suppressed a sigh. She wanted to bring up his past, to remind him of how horrible vampires could be, but she also knew now wasn’t the right time to do so. As they looked back at the Faeries in training, she said slowly, “I requested for a Lyccan and Caro trainer to visit us.”
Lysander’s head turned sharply towards her. This was the first time he had heard of her request, and he was immediately suspicious. “Why is that?”
“I talked about it with Milo and he agreed.” She gave him an apologetic glance. “I didn’t get to ask you because I didn’t know you’d be my co-Ambassador then. Lyccans have been warriors all their lives and Caros have been fighting vampires from the very start. I think we can learn a lot from them.”
The ‘we’ made Lysander feel extremely good, but he didn’t want to think why it was so.
A commotion at the end of the courtyard drew his attention. A crowd was gathering, the noise increasing in volume.
“Maybe the trainers had come?” Misty hazarded a guess.
“Perhaps. Let us find out.” He offered his hand, and she took it after a moment of hesitation.
They walked hand in hand, Misty forcing herself to relax. He was gay, gay, gay. How many times did she have to remind herself of that?
“I see Magenta,” Lysander, who easily towered over other Faeries, said as they neared the foot of the crowd.
“An important visitor must have come then,” Misty decided. “Magenta doesn’t…” The crowd parted slowly, and her voice trailed off, shock rendering her speechless when she saw who that important visitor was.
Domenico.
Her body tingled at the sight of him, her throat convulsing at the way he kept his eyes on her while he kept a sedate pace next to Magenta. The aura of command around Domenico was even more tangible now, one that made Misty tremble. And his clothes! She had never seen him dressed this way, geared for battle, his soldier uniform bearing the colors of the Lyccan Council.It gave her pause. Shouldn’t he be wearing black and silver, which were the colors of the Moretti pack?
The way his tight-fitted uniform showed off the sleek, hard cuts of his muscles only served to emphasize how different he was from all the men in this realm – or anyone else in the world, any man
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