Chapter 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sniffing washcloths.

First of all, I don't know why I'm still here, snooping through a stranger's house with my phone poised and ready to get evidence of anything that might lock Pollux Strakh up for good. The place is huge, larger than looks possible from the outside, and it's spotless. No matter how hard I look, I can't find the broken windows I saw when I came up the sidewalk. All the furniture is antique and real wood. The decorations look like they've all come from eons past, but they're in near-perfect condition.

The apparent wealth is chilling.

Because where in the world did a young single father get this kind of money?

And why in the world is my brain answering with a resounding drug lab?

"Miss?"

I jump, whirling to find Alexios a foot from me in the long upstairs hall. I did not hear him approach. I cannot explain what I am doing. Not even remotely. In all honesty, I kind of forgot he was here. After Pollux and Andromeda left, the entire house went eerily quiet and still.

Like a morgue.

If a morgue had multiple cabinets dedicated to hosting liquor bottles around every corner.

Because, yes, apparently someone here is an alcoholic.

I'll just add it to my list of reasons to cry myself to sleep tonight.

Alexios's smile unfurls, disarming. "If you're looking for Pollux's room, it's the last set of double doors on the right. If your reason for wanting to be in his bedroom is because you've discovered that the door to the basement and his lab is locked, however, I might regret to inform you that no physical key for it can be found in this place."

"I… I wasn't…" What? I wasn't what? Looking for a key to the basement? I one hundred percent am now. In my defense, Pollux told me to make myself at home. Probably with severe subtext that actually meant get out of my house immediately and never come back. But it can't be held against me if I'm taking him at his word, can it?

I feel backed into a corner with him.

If he has as much money as it seems, there's very little the government will do even if I can get them to find this address. He probably has people who can buy him out of anything.

I'm grasping for straws and fleeting hope.

But that doesn't mean I'm going down without a fight.

"Helpless…" Alexios reaches a gloved hand toward me as I dissect my attention from my rampaging thoughts. He touches my chin, tilting my face up to meet his. "You feel utterly helpless. Angry. But not afraid."

"What do you think you're doing?" I try to step back, but my feet don't move.

Slowly, Alexios's smile drifts off his face. "Interesting. Do you remember ever feeling afraid?"

I swallow, temper my rage, and ignore the fact I can't seem to get my legs to work. "I'm a teacher," I hiss.

"Do elaborate."

My lungs fill, and I stay stonily put, this time of my own accord. "I am the last defense between my kids and anyone who would try to hurt them. It's not my job to be afraid. It's my job to put the very essence of fear into anyone who dares come for my littles. It is my job to make absolute certain they have nothing to fear."

"How…riveting." Interest ignites in his stormy eyes. "Might I be so bold as to ask for your soul?"

"What?"

"Your soul. I'd like to examine it."

"Are you insane?"

"Perhaps." His smile returns, laced in humor. "If I am, I wholly blame genetics."

I stare at him, disturbed.

He lets his hand fall from my face, and I find the energy to take a step back, putting some space between us. He proceeds to clarify his statement, as though his clarification makes any sense at all. "Meda's told you about our new faerie princess. I came from her, and she is, quite often, delightfully bonkers."

I scowl. "It's not wise to enable Meda's stories or use them to insult me. She needs to grow to have a better grasp on reality if she'll want to fit in."

"Fit…in?" His brows rise. "Oh my. What a turn of events."

"What are you talking about?"

He chuckles. "Oh, perhaps nothing. It's just…well…Meda is under the impression that you believe her. I did assume something was amiss, given how you're acting. Pollux is…interesting…but for anyone who can stand him, hatred is not the usual response."

My voice shakes, a horrible mixture of anger and concern getting stuck in my throat. "I'm worried about Andromeda. And I don't know how you fit into this, but if you're just hired help, please." I grab his arm, dig my fingers into his muscle, and implore, "Help me help her."

Alexios's expression deadens as he stares at my fingers. Prying them off, he says, "Do not touch me without permission. Being touched by strangers is one of my least favorite sensory experiences." He fixes his sleeve, smoothing the wrinkles I caused. "As for Meda, she hardly needs help. The tiny monster is boundlessly loved here. Given what she is, her fortunes are many more than seem wholly fair."

My gaze slashes down, to the phone I'm still clutching like a lifeline, and I swipe inconspicuously to video before pressing record. "Does Pollux make drugs in the basement?"

"Pollux makes a grand many things in that basement of his."

"Including drugs?"

"Sure, if you want to call them that."

"And does he give them to his seven-year-old daughter?"

"He gives them to Alana, mostly. They'd hardly do anything for Meda. She shares his unique constitution."

My eyes narrow. "What does that mean?"

"Aphrodisiacs aren't so effective on creatures that deal in emotions."

Aphrodisiacs.

My mouth goes entirely dry.

Abruptly, Alexios turns his head, and his brow lowers. "Pardon me, I'm being summoned," he says, then he passes.

By the time I've had a chance to take a rationalizing breath and turn around, he's gone.

My stomach knots as I stop the recording and fight to gather my thoughts.

The system is horrible. Even videos of crimes worse than the mere mention of a drug lab in the basement can be marked off as nothing by the wrong people in power. If CPS won't get it for me, I need more proof. More proof that whatever is happening here negatively impacts someone who might care.

And if I can't get the right people in power to care, I need enough proof to convince Zahra to help me. Her social platforms for her online streaming may be able to make enough noise and reach the right people.

As long as I can get something of substance.

Locating the last set of double doors on the right, I swallow.

Then, I find myself trying one handle. It opens with a soft click, so before I can talk myself out of it, I slip inside.

?

Pollux swore the second he entered his bedroom. Of all places, why had Kassandra gone into hisbedroom while he was out hunting with Andromeda? In a moment of utter nerves, he had told his beautiful soulmate to make herself at home. It didn't matter that ever since he'd laid eyes on her, he'd been imagining this home as hers…

By stars and light, they weren't married yet.

Having her scent in his room was cruelty of the highest degree, a taunt he did not believe he deserved even if he had yet to find the courage to tell her what she was to him.

Andromeda had not mentioned anything of soulmates to her teacher. Despite having assumptions about the fear-nullifying woman, Andromeda was either a good girl, Pollux had taught her well, or she had come to respect that the business of soulmates was sacred.

Ultimately, Andromeda's lack of meddling meant Pollux had to take Kassandra aside on his own and tell her that he wanted her. Deeply. Intrinsically.

Perhaps a touch inappropriately.

Pollux swore again, closed his eyes, and remembered how it felt when she'd shoved him against the stairs earlier that evening. He could have kissed her then, wrapped her up and claimed her for all eternity.

Only Andromeda's warnings when they'd discussed this entire situation stayed his hand.

He trusted his little girl's assessment of a woman he did not know at all.

If she said that Kassandra was overly cautious and likely wouldn't take well to their less human forms, he'd keep the ink from his eyes and his teeth dull until she was ready to handle the more monstrous pieces of him.

No matter what the ache in his chest told him, forcing a woman to accept anything—physically or emotionally—was…wrong. And wrong things were not to be entertained.

He exhaled a curse, pictured Kassandra's raging eyes, her too-perfect smile, the heat of her hand. On him. Touching him. Fearless and hard despite the innocent brilliance she'd used to mask all her true emotions.

"Kassandra…" he whispered into this space that smelled like her.

Rolling his neck, he cut his fingers through his short dark hair and went to inspect the damage her perusal had caused.

As far as he could tell, the woman had touched everything. His drawers. His books. His bed. She'd gone into his bathroom. Looked through his towels. It was like she'd been searching for something.

But what?

She was part human. Regardless of whether or not Andromeda had mentioned the obvious fact fae blood ran through her veins, neither Kassandra nor Andromeda could know which kind. Kassandra was part human, new to the knowledge of fae. And Andromeda, despite the power Pollux had granted her, was too young to have any accurate speculations. Only Pollux—as her mate—could decode the notes in her soul. And, were he not her mate, he may never have known.

She was a creature that molded seamlessly into her environment, because she was a creature that could create her environment from the dust in her own lungs.

In all Pollux's years as a dream eater, he had never once met his closest, somehow more frightening, seelie kin.

The dream makers.

The sandmen.

Unlike with nightmares, dreams formed naturally in human minds without the help of a faerie. Such levels of imagination were, perhaps, one of the few magics humans could perform. The sandmen were not only facilitators capable of entering and manipulating the dream plane in any way they pleased. Their powers could warp one's perception of reality itself.

Kassandra was made of dreams. Hope. Beauty. Belief. Innocence. Seduction.

She had sandman blood. And she had access to it on some level, because it was reacting to her will, creating a bubble around her that overpowered his presence, eliminating the cloud of fear that congealed in the air around dream eaters.

She was his antithesis. His cure. His soul's mate.

And…he was sniffing a washcloth she'd touched.

So, clearly, he was painfully at her mercy even in her absence.

Lowering the cloth, he sighed and looked at himself in the mirror. "You're not a creep."

It was a very compelling pep talk. And, technically, he couldn't lie, so logic demanded the words were true as they had indeed managed to leave his mouth. Alas, he also desperately wanted to take the washcloth to bed and cuddle it, which felt like a somewhat substantial argument against him.

He had to find a way to have a decent conversation with Kassandra. Discover why she hated him. Tell her he was more than ready to go to war in order to earn her affections. He simply required her consent before he began his chase, for pursuing a woman against her will was incredibly indecent.

Unfortunately, Pollux was starkly unprepared for this…fear inside him that suggested she would not provide consent, that suggested she might turn him away completely, that suggested something he did not even know he had done would end everything before it could begin.

His brain crippled in her presence. Without the protection of the terrors that made him up, his body seemed vulnerable.

He didn't know how to cope without his overpowering shield of fear. She left him feeling naked and insecure, like she'd stolen his natural defenses and made him as helpless as a starving boogeyman the morning after the sun rose and all fear vanished.

Weakness was not a sensation he found himself familiar with often.

And the way she looked at him…

The barely restrained hatred in her deep brown eyes kind of activated his fight response.

Because he did not know what he'd done to be hated, he really wanted to grab her wrists in one fist, push her into the wall, and ask. The way she weakened him made him want to assert dominance.

Like an animal.

Like a tiny puppy barking its head off in an effort to say actually, my dear, I am big; don't let the fact I'm cowering fool you.

Yeah.

Pollux had literally no idea what to do with himself or his feelings. He was unaccustomed to experiencing them like this.

The way he wanted her was violent.

The way she didn't want him made him want her more.

And, truly, he didn't like the way that idea tasted in his brain.

Kassandra was his soulmate. She deserved respect. Unless she also expressed a clear desire to fight, he would not give in to any of his depraved wishes. Part of having a soulmate was understanding that while soulmates were impeccably crafted for one another, they also served as a means to better each other.

Assumption was selfish.

And selfishness was the opposite of love.

It was only very recently Pollux had learned that unseelie fae like him could have soulmates. Prior to when Cael had found his, both of them suspected neither would ever find the match their souls longed for.

To say Pollux knew precious little about how to behave in regular social settings would be an understatement.

Pollux was an awkward mess of a man who'd had very limited interactions with women who could withstand him. In fact, before meeting Cael's mate, Alana, Pila was the only woman he'd ever met who could stand his fear-soaked presence.

Having insufficient data for things he could not ethically test made him itchy. Being unsure and nervous turned his brain to mush.

Kassandra made logic hard.

She was beautiful. And precious. She radiated the innocence of a child and the grace of an unspeakable disaster.

Pollux was much too aware she could reject him in favor of her human life. And he would have to respect that.

Already, he found himself consumed by the mere concept of her. The level of adoration he held for her existence alone could be nothing short of the first buds of love. So if there were things in humanity that he might steal her from, things in humanity that she loved more than she may ever be willing to love him, he would have to come to terms with accepting that.

Still, unlike some, he would not submit himself to uncertainty without first making himself as clear as he could.

Kassandra was part human, raised human.

He would propose to her in the human way to show his earnest intentions, and he would absolutely, completely, and entirely not bite her, grab her, or press her into anything until after she agreed to either court or marry him.

Whispering a curse, he forced himself to fold the washcloth and put it away, then he marched to the liquor cabinet he kept in the corner of his bedroom.

After opening the ornate door, his lungs filled and released as he swore again. Every bottle smelled like her. She'd touched them. And he put his mouth in the places where her delicate fingers had perused.

Mercy.

He knew going through the motions to chase a numbness he couldn't, as a dream eater, find with things like alcohol wasn't healthy, but that didn't mean he was prepared to quit at this exact moment.

"Daddy?"

Pollux cussed and turned on his heel, finding his little girl soaking up the shadows behind him. "Meda." His heart was on the ceiling. Just a red, oozing glob. "What's wrong, dear one?"

Andromeda's big blue eyes stared at him as she inched across his black carpet, cautious. "Did I…scare you?"

"At the very least, you startled me. I was thinking inappropriate things about Kassandra and was sorely unprepared for a minor to appear behind me."

"Oooooh." Andromeda's beautiful shining eyes sparked as she planted a hand in front of her curling lips. "Tell me everything."

"Absolutely I will not." He coughed. "You're not old enough to comprehend these matters." He popped a cap on a random bottle and took a drag. Whiskey. Something Willow had brought him. Being around Willow with Kassandra present to remove the fear he caused in the part-human, part-dryad, part-pixie amalgamation that was Willow would be…interesting.

Frightening, maybe.

Willow was…

All the words Pollux could come up with lagged, slogging through his brain like slugs.

…Willow.

Willow was Willow. Nothing else adequately described her. The woman visited him, by herself, for funsies.

"You're really lost in your thoughts, aren't you, Daddy?" Andromeda murmured.

"Yup."

"R-rated?"

"No." Thankfully.

"What's it like having a soulmate?"

"You'll find out when you're five hundred. Minimum." Striding to his bed, he sat on the slick, silk comforter and leaned back against the pillows, doing his best to ignore the way everything still smelled like Kassandra, Kassandra, Kassandra.

Andromeda bounced onto his chest after about negative three seconds.

Unburdened by the fully human guise they both presented in front of Kassandra, her wide blue eyes rested in pools of black that matched his. It wasn't their true natural form, but the sharp teeth and disconcerting sclerae were how they generally appeared in front of their fae friends. After all, claws were inconvenient in daily life.

Andromeda grinned daggers at him.

A smile of his own tugged on one corner of his mouth. "What?"

"You're such a daddy."

He grunted, rolled his eyes, and took another sip of the whiskey. The burn as it soared down his throat and into his chest drew some attention away from the ache that rarely left. Even though it was liquor, if he'd not trained himself to find something akin to comfort in the taste of fire, it would do nothing to a dream eater's system at a cognitive state.

Effectively, it was his placebo.

Some people didn't know how physical loneliness was. Andromeda helped. So much. But centuries without her had created a lesion on his soul. If left undisturbed, the sensation of emptiness kept him wondering why, why, why he was alive.

The least he could do was send fire down to keep his misery company.

Maybe Kassandra would heal him.

Maybe Kassandra would make his addiction obsolete.

Maybe Kassandra would take the deepest, ink-black parts of the darkness out of his chest so he wouldn't have to picture burning it up anymore… Maybe she'd play with his pain and paint him nightmares of his very own so he could finally, finally process everything he'd endured throughout the ages, get over all of it, and understand at a foundational level all the things he could put into words but never feelings.

He knew there was a point to his existence.

He knew his suffering wasn't meant to be in vain.

Knowing was different than believing.

"May I please take Ms. Role's soul?" Andromeda asked.

Pollux blinked and drew his mind from his wandering thoughts once again. "Why would you ask something like that, dear one?"

"I don't trust her with it. There's a holiday of some kind coming up where kids go around and ask for candy from strangers. There's a lot of thanking."

Pollux sighed. "Right. It's that time of year again. With all the…celebrations."

Andromeda's eyes widened further. "You know about Halloween?"

"I watched it come into being and mutate, just like all the rest."

She bit his arm, sinking her sharp teeth into his flesh.

He muttered into his bottle, "Why?"

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" she squeaked.

He arched a brow at her, his daughter, the small monster who had not told him she was in school.

"Because. Most human holidays are based in concerning rituals that honor dark things. Halloween, especially, has become somewhat disturbing. It welcomes far too many bad unseelie into human spaces."

"The kids at school say it's all about dressing up and eating candy."

"Like most things, there is good and bad, innocent and…less so. Celebrating holidays that have been stolen, rewritten, mashed together, and thread through with lies isn't exactly faerie behavior."

"Right. We have other celebrations. That make sense."

"Correct."

"Because we don't need an excuse to have fun."

"Mm."

"Can I dress up as a moth faerie?"

Pollux's gaze dragged to his sweet little girl. "What? Do you actually have self-esteem issues? I thought we discussed this and came to a conclusion that your teacher was just too human to understand us right now."

"I really like Lana, but I like me, too. I just want to go to a party, and you have to dress up for a Halloween party."

"A Halloween party…at your…school?"

Her head shook. "No, someone's house."

"A Halloween party at someone's house, for children?"

Her head shook again. "I don't think so."

"No."

"What?" Her voice pitched. "Why not?"

"Adult parties with humans have alcohol that actually works on their systems, which leads to behavior I don't want you around until your frontal lobe has had more time to develop." He poked her in the forehead. "This reasoning part of your brain needs to be able to comprehend and make smart decisions. Also, you're a little dream eater strong enough to drop her glamour. I don't need you messing with a bunch of humans on their fear holiday."

"But Ms. Role is going with Zahr-Zahr."

Pollux swallowed, hard. "And one of them invited you?"

"No."

"You were eavesdropping?"

"I was eating a sandwich Ms. Role gave me."

He mumbled, "And eavesdropping."

"It was strawberry and peanut butter. It had crust. The sides were open, so it wasn't even a pocket, and my hands were at risk of getting messy. I wasn't really hungry, but I didn't want to hurt her feelings."

He sighed. "I don't think Kassandra would want you at an adult party with her."

Andromeda flopped, pitifully, against his chest. "Because she hates me?"

"I think she adores you." Which made sense, of course. What wasn't there to adore about Andromeda? Pollux combed her curls away from his chin and soaked in the sensation of her warmth. The fear of his fear. His daughter.

His…imp. Who did not at all know when to quit.

"Does she not want me there because she'll be flirting with all the men?" she chimed.

"What?" Pollux growled.

"And probably thanking everyone. What if Castor is there? What if she thanks him?"

Pollux's heart hit the ceiling again as his stomach ripped itself in two. "Meda. Are you being devious?"

"Entirely."

"It is not kind."

"I'm sorry. It's just that it's been weeks since you met now, but you haven't made a move. You tend to overthink and overplan everything. I am hypothesizing that you need some motivation."

He probably did. Still. What gave his small child the right?

"She's human, Daddy…"

"Part human," he grumbled.

"Part is enough to make her vulnerable. And part is enough to make her unaware that she has a mate. If it's not proper for me to tell her, what are you waiting for?"

What was he waiting for?

Simple.

"A good time to propose."