Desert Tales by Melissa Marr Page A

him to safety.
    The second faery grabbed Rika’s hair. He was much bigger than her, so much so that his palm cupped the back of her skull like he was cradling a ball.
    She glared and yanked back, tilting her head so her chin was pointing upward and her head was at an angle. “You really don’t want to do this.”
    The faery tilted his head downward and tugged her so he was mouth-to-forehead with her. “Yeah. I do.”
    She darted a glance at Jayce. He was staring at the faery that had grabbed him.
    â€œI’m still stronger than any of you out here,” Rika whispered to the faery in front of her. Then, she headbutted him.
    Surprised, he reached up to touch his face. Until now, Rika had avoided fighting with faeries. When they would act out, she always extricated herself. Tonight, though, she was tired of avoiding conflict. She kicked the faery, the heel of her foot slamming into his lower ribs, and he stumbled.
    The mortals who were nearby started to back away.
    Jayce glanced at her and, seeing that she was in a fight, looked worried. Almost in perfect synchronicity, they both took a swing at their attackers. The faery facing her winced at the impact, but the faery in front of Jayce laughed.
    â€œWhat’s your problem?” Jayce snarled at the faery, simultaneously trying to pull Rika behind him.
    She was touched by the gesture, but mortals weren’t strong enough to defeat faeries. She, however, was a faery fierce enough to defeat most anyone who stood against her. Such was the consequence of having been a Winter Girl. Choosing not to fight all of these years didn’t mean she was unable; it merely meant that she’d been making a different choice. Tonight, she’d revised her plan.
    The mortals around them watched the growing conflict. Rika stood beside Jayce, staring at the faeries who’d come here looking for trouble. “This is a bad idea,” she told them.
    The growing comprehension in their expressions said that they knew she was right, but they didn’t retreat. Neither did she—or Jayce, for that matter. He had no idea of how capable she was. She looked tiny next to him, but it was her that the faeries were watching. Rika had avoided the desert quarrels and dominance disputes, so the faeries she faced weren’t used to her fighting. They had no sense of her technique to rely on to help them. Even more, they were obviously shocked by her uncharacteristic behavior; they watched her warily, neither advancing nor retreating.
    â€œLet’s go.” Rika started to back away, not looking away from them.
    â€œOr not,” Maili said as she joined them—finally visible to humans now. She held a knife that looked like a carved horn, sharp and primitive.
    Rika didn’t hesitate: she punched Maili, knocking her back hard enough that she landed on her backside on the club floor.
    Maili’s face twisted in an angry snarl.
    Rika pointed at the knife. “ That doesn’t make you equal to fighting me.”
    For a moment, Jayce stood stunned beside her; then he grabbed her hand and pulled her with him deeper into the sea of bodies.
    â€œWhat was that ?” Jayce glanced over his shoulder at her as they moved away from the faeries.
    Rika pretended not to hear him. There was no answer Rika could give without using lies or misdirection. All that mattered was getting Jayce away from danger. Later, she’d find a solution, but right now she needed to get him away from Maili. The faeries weren’t going after the mortals in the club, but they were pursuing her.
    Then—standing so near she almost ran into him—Sionnach was in front of her like a savior in a crisis. If she were the hugging sort, she would wrap her arms around him. Instead she tugged Jayce the rest of the way toward the fox faery.
    â€œThey’re not making sense, Shy,” she half yelled as she reached his side, and then promptly blushed as she realized that she