Page 44 of The Unseelie Wish

A fourth way. That was what he needed to find. Somehow. But he didn’t even know where to start—the threads of game on top of game inside another game had become so tangled that it seemed impossible to unweave them from each other. Impossible to do one thing—love her, keep her, cherish her, without the other—death, and war, and stealing her heart.

But there had to be a fourth.

But what? And how?

First, however, there was something else he had to do. Though he dreaded it with all his might.

Exhausted, Alex lay in bed, staring at the far wall. She was burnt to a crisp. Emotionally, physically, mentally. The reality of her situation before her was sinking in, and her mind was scrambling to make sense of it all.

Either way, no matter what, Izael would win and get her soul. And even if she somehow managed to keep from making a wish in two and a half days, the fae would still get to her. And she knew deep down that whatever they’d do to her would be far, far worse.

If she won the game and kept her soul, and had the option to surrender her magic—what then? Would they still come for her? Would Valroy, angry at losing his opportunity to destroy the treaty and Earth, come and kill her anyway? Or worse?

Or would some other fae decide to come abduct her to torment Izael?

Both options were very likely.

But more likely was that the moment she “won” her game with Izael, Valroy would abduct her before Abigail could take her magic away. Then, she’d be Valroy’s personal bazooka. And that would be so much worse than losing her soul to Izael.

Izael loved her.

Valroy, not so much.

Winning was losing.

Losing was losing.

Never. Trust. The fae.

Gods above and below, she was a fucking moron. She deserved whatever happened to her. But limiting the situation to only her death seemed to be the best option before her.

She needed to find a way to contact Abigail. To tell the Seelie Queen about Izael’s betrayal and beg the queen to strip Alex of her magic. Then, once she was a useless, pointless little mortal, it wouldn’t matter what happened to her or how she died. It’d just be her misery she suffered, not everyone else’s, too.

That was what she’d have to do.

Somehow.

Maybe Puck could help her.

But how could she contact the maniac without alerting Izael? She’d have to find a way.

A quiet knock on the door broke into her thoughts. “Alex?” Izael asked from the other side. “I…can we talk?”

“Pretty sure I’m sick of talking to you today.” She shut her eyes. “Especially if you’ve come to gloat.”

The door opened. She’d locked it. Clearly, that didn’t do shit when he was involved. Fucking fae. She heard him walk across the room, steps muted on the carpeted floor, before the edge of the bed behind her depressed with his weight. He placed his hand on her side. “I want to apologize.”

That surprised her enough to get her to roll onto her back to meet his gaze. He was watching her, sadness creasing the corners of her eyes. He was serious.

“I…you are more to me than just a bauble. Just a plaything.” Reaching out, he hovered his hand over her cheek, but pulled back. “But I am who I am—what I am. I am Unseelie. I am the Duke of Bones. Asking me to treat you like I am a fellow mortal is…I fear I’m not capable of it.”

“And expecting me to think and act like a fae is just as impossible.” She sat up, the sheets falling around her waist. “I’m not capable of just dooming two worlds and shrugging it off like it’s no big deal. I’m not. I can’t just—I can’t surrender. I can’t give in. It’s not who I am.”

“And I love you for who you are, my songbird. But I am a greedy, covetous thing. The idea of losing you—” When his voice cracked, he looked away, clearly embarrassed. “I lost you once already. I cannot survive it a second time.”

Fuck.

That hit her like a ton of bricks.