“I don’t need saving.”
“No, you don’t. You’re perfectly safe here.” He comes closer and sniffs the air. He’s just a foot or so away from me. I try to back up farther, but I’m already against the wall. He smiles but there is sadness in it. “As safe as any of us can be when we aren’t in control, when we aren’t in power.”
“Did you have to mess up Betty’s house?” I ask.
He laughs. “That wasn’t us. That was the king. He has a temper, you know, kind of like you. It runs in the blood, no matter how hard you try to keep it down, and I think you have quite the temper simmering under the surface, boiling to get out.”
“So he’s changed tactics. Made you kidnap me.”
“No. He has nothing to do with this. This is all me.” He pushes his hand through his hair ultra-casual, and then pulls a Swiss Army knife out of his pants pocket. He takes a pick out of it and starts cleaning his nails.
“Nice intimidation tactic,” I say. “Very textbook. I’d expect something more original from pixies.”
He doesn’t respond, but he blinks. His jaw gets all rigid. After a couple seconds, he puts the pick back in place.
“You are so sweet, Zara, and so innocent and likeable. But no one can ever save someone else, you know? We can only save ourselves. You know that, don’t you?”
He reaches out and his fingertips graze my cheek, tracing the line of my jaw bone.
I refuse to move. “Did you need to be saved once, Ian?”
His fingers stop. His eyes bore into mine and he whispers, “Maybe.”
“You weren’t always a pixie. They turned you.” I swallow and his eyes flash with the truth. I keep talking. “You aren’t the pixie who has been chasing me in the woods. I know that. You feel different somehow.”
His fingers move again, slowly. I turn my head, but his fingers keep moving.
“No,” he says. “That wasn’t me.”
I make myself look at him then, his pale skin. His too-deep eyes that aren’t human, not really. How come I never noticed that? I was too busy being sad, too busy noticing Nick, too busy being flattered that somebody liked me, I guess.
“Who was it?”
“The king. He wants you. And believe me, you do not want him to have you. It’s much better for everyone if you go with us. He’s gotten weak and we’re having a turf war, really, and you’re the key to ending it all.” He shakes his head. “Who would know, that someone so short and so sad would be the one we were waiting for. We all want you or hate you.”
“Why?”
“It’s destiny. You’re the one. Zara. Princess. Didn’t you ever wonder about what your name means?”
I don’t get it. “My mother named me.”
“Exactly.”
“What do you mean, exactly?”
“You’re the continuation of the blood line. Whoever claims you claims the kingdom.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“No it’s not.”
He grabs my face with his cold hands. “Do you know what it is to be pixie kissed, Zara?”
I know.
“It turns you,” he continues. “It’s painful, but if done correctly, the human doesn’t die, but she grows. She becomes like us. Some humans, humans like you, already have pixie in your blood. I did.”
“Right.” It’s hard not to be sarcastic. Sarcastic is so much better than scared, anyway. And the thought of having pixie genes terrifies me, God. Is my mom a pixie?
“It makes you more powerful when you turn, and more desirable throughout.” Ian’s fingers tighten on my chin.
“And you’re the one who is supposed to turn me?” I ask, trying not to shudder.
“I had to fight Megan for it.” He shrugs. “I didn’t think she’d let you survive.”
I freeze.
“That’s right, Megan’s a pixie too, and she has her eyes set on the kingdom. You’re the only thing in her way, at least, that’s what she thinks.”
“And the man in the forest . . . ,” I whisper.
“He wants to turn you, of course. He must. He’s the one who found you, but it’s not all finders keepers all the time, is it?”
I swallow hard. “Is he my father?” He can’t be my father. My father is some random guy my mom hooked up with in a “foolish moment.” My father is not a pixie because that would mean . . .
Ian laughs. “No one’s told you anything, have they? Wolves’ cognitive processing is a bit slow. Eagles and tigers aren’t that much better.”
“But you guys go to school. You . . . how can you be a pixie? Is everyone in this town inhuman?”
“No. There are plenty of humans here. And there are the weres of course, unfortunately. But we hide our pixieness with a glamour. That’s just how it is.”
“Are there more of you? In other places?”
“Of course. Shhh . . .” His other hand cups the back of my head. I can’t move. It’s like my body just gave up. I try to lift my hands to push Ian away, but they won’t go.
“You are such a jerk.”
He leans in closer. His mouth is just an inch, the tiniest inch, away from my mouth.
“I love the way you smell.” His sentence touches my skin with his breath, and the wound on my hand tingles and I snap out of it somehow. Somehow I can move again. My hands shove him away hard. His face registers his shock. I bash past him and run for the door, throwing myself against it and yanking at it.
“Megan! Let me out! Megan!”
The door won’t budge and Ian is next to me in an instant. He throws me across the room and I smash against the wall. A sickening sound echoes throughout the space as something in my arm breaks.
The lower part of my arm dangles at a funky angle. It doesn’t hurt. Shock does that for a second so the body can try to save itself, try to run and fight. I power myself back up and dive for the opening door. I yank off my bracelet and throw it at him. It hits his chest and burns through his shirt.
Megan opens the door, smiling. “You having a hard time, Ian?”
He ignores her.
I plead with my eyes.
She ignores me.
“Zara,” he says, his voice higher. “Don’t make this hard. Now you’re hurt. That lowers your chances of surviving. You need to survive.”