Heart of Stone (Rock Star Fairy Tales #1)

Chapter 48

C h apte r 48

Fae Lords

“Y ou want us to be a couple, Margot?” he asked, hope sparking in his bright eyes as he tugged h er closer.

“The thought crossed my mind,” she said. “I mean, you are beautiful—and you know it. And you’re insanely good in bed.” She reached up, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “And you’re funny, too. And charming, not to mention clever and witty.” She smiled at him. “You’re pretty amazing, Tobin.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t look so s urprised.”

“No one appreciates me like that, Margot,” he told her. “I mean, you saw Lady Drina. She knows my mother, and she still treats me like a servant.”

“Because of Rebinus?”

He nodded. “They don’t treat Rebinus with disdain. They’re all afraid of him.” Something cruel twisted his lip, and instead of being turned off, Margot felt herself drawn closer to him. Lady Drina was awful—she needed to be afraid of someone. It was good for her.

“Can’t say I’m sorry to hear that,” Margot said. “Fae society sounds terrible. I understand why you might linger here instead.”

“It is terrible,” Tobin agreed. “But it doesn’t have to be, not if you’re stron g enough.”

“Is that what this is about?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “I know. You want Ash to Claim me so I’m protected by someone strong. What if I don’t want to be Claimed by anyone?” Tobin turned aside, and she saw the same defeated look she had seen on Ash’s face when she spoke of remaining free. She caught his face between her hands. “You don’t think I c an do it?”

He sighed. “I think you can do anything you want, Margot. I want—” He paused, leaning down so his forehead met hers. “I want to tell you s omething.”

Margot pushed down the urge to tell him he didn’t have to. “Why?” she asked instead.

“Because I think you’ll understand.” Breaking free from her embrace, he rummaged through her fridge and stood, holding the bottle of ma gic wine.

“You need magic to tell me?” s he asked.

“No,” he said, pulling out the temporary cork and downing the rest of the bottle in one go, neck working as he swallowed the contents. He set the bottle down on her counter and moved back to her. “I just needed a drink before I say this.”

She smiled at him, unable to help it. Tobin was weird, and she loved it. “Let me guess,” Margot said. “You’ve never told anyone thi s before.”

“You might want to sit down,” he suggested, motioning to her seat.

“Well that sounds ominous.” She obeyed and settled into her swi vel seat.

“I—” he began, stopped, turning around to pace the few feet to her kitchen and back again. “Lord Rebinus…” He stopped himself again. “Maybe I should just show you.”

“Okay,” Margot said, not knowing what to expect. With her feet on the floor and hands braced on her knees, she prepared for a new bombshell. “Whatever yo u prefer.”

“Yeah,” Tobin said, then turned around again, his back to her. She felt the prickle of magic against her skin, and as she watched, Tobin’s form began to shift. His body filled out, growing more muscular and taller. His simple jeans and hoodie faded away, replaced by dark velvet pants that hugged his body and a silver brocade vest over a white long-sleeved shirt. His hair spilled over his back, long and white and wavy.

The man in her bus turned around slowly, and Margot took in the stranger who had been Tobin. His boots matched the ones she had found in Tobin’s closet that morning, the tight pants accentuating thick thighs, and the poet’s shirt matched other clothing she had seen in his dresser. This was definitely the man whose room they had been in. Her gaze roamed up his broad chest, the strong arms, the blunt fingers, and settled on his face. The chin was wider, the cheekbones more pronounced, everything about the face older, more mature, but the eyes were the same pale blue. The hair was longer and fuller, adding another level of majesty and glory to what was already an imposin g figure.

He looked like Tobin, only aged up and bigger, with more lines on his face. Margot stared at him, trying to understand, something deep inside already making the co nnection.

“My Lady,” the stranger said, bowing deeply, a move she had seen Tobin make. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Rebinus.”

Heat flooded Margot’s body as she stared at him. He was imposing, every inch the Lord Ash had told her to fear, but he was also handsome, and his domineering presence was doing odd things to her insides.

If all fae Lords look like that, she thought, I a m doomed.

“But…” Margot tried, shaking her head to clear it, then she swallowed hard, finding her voice. “You’ re Tobin.”

“I am,” he said, his voice deep and rich, making her toes curl. “And I am also Lord Rebinus.”

“Why…” She rallied. “Why would you pretend to be a vassal?” Her eyes widened in horror. “And what happened to the re al Tobin?”

“You’re asking the wrong question, Margot,” Lord Rebinus said, leaning down to kneel before her, that huge body folding with impossib le grace.

She stared at him, running through everything she knew—Ash’s comments about Rebinus, the obvious connection between the brothers despite their differences, Tobin’s casual freedom, the bedroom of a Lord, and finally, Tobin’s words: He lives a life separate fro m my own.

“You’re Tobin,” she whispered. “Where is the real Rebinus?”

“I killed him,” Tobin replied. “Seven y ears ago.”

“You live as both?” she asked, trying to wrap her head around the logistics. “You play Lord Rebinus back in Lorellon?”

He stood, shrugging, the massive body moving with ease. Margot had never felt that her bus was small, but with Lord Rebinus inside, she suddenly understood what the guys had been tel ling her.

“It’s not a game,” he said, then paused and laughed, the sound rich and deep in his chest. Margot’s toes curled despite herself. “Though I suppose maybe it is. Politics often can be a game of strategy and cunning.”

“If you’re him, or he’s you,” Margot struggled with her words, “then why are you here? Is this still part of some plan to use me to get to Ash? To Cl aim him?”

“That was the original plan, yes,” he admitted, reaching out to touch her face with his big hand.

“But what?” she prompted, skin shivering at the touch despite herself.

“Then I met you,” he said, “and I couldn’t do it.” She reached up to hold his hand against her face, studying his features. “You are more than a pawn , Margot.”

“Why do you look so much like Tobin, though? Are you related?”

He nodded. “Lord Rebinus is—was my uncle.”

“Oh,” Margot said, pieces falling into place. “Your uncle stole you from your father, and you killed him. Tobin, you have a really fucked u p family.”

He laughed again, the sound changing as he shifted, Tobin’s lean features emerging from the mature mask. “Truth,” he agreed, the clothes hanging on his slimm er frame.

She reached out to touch the material of the vest. “I think I prefer your face,” she said.

“Your body says otherwise, Margot.” Tobin arched an eyebrow. “You want me to chan ge back?”

His face began to shift, and she shook her head. “No,” she insisted. “He’s a bit … intimidating.” To her relief, Tobin remained Tobin. “Your clothes,” she prompted. “You’re leav ing them?”

He frowned, still peering at her. “Ah,” he said awkwardl y. “That.”

“Gods,” Margot said. “There’s more? Please tell me this new thing doesn’t trump the fact that you are fucking Lord Rebinus!” She paused. “Oh god. I’m fucking Lord Rebinus!”

Tobin grinned. “Margot, I already told you: I am not fucking Lord Rebinus.”

“Only when you jerk off, I suppose,” she muttered. “So how does this work with Claiming? I mean, are you U nclaimed?”

“When I’m Lord Rebinus, I am. When I am Tobin, I am Claimed.”

“But your Claimer, or whatever, is dead! I thought that broke the deal.”

“Claims don’t fade like that, Margot,” he explained. “If they did, everyone would try to kill t he Lords.”

“I got the impression that they do that , anyway.”

He frowned. “Well, yes, they try, but the Claim simply passes to the next strongest member of th e family.”

“That would be you—since you managed to kill Lord Rebinus. That’s why no one noticed a shift. But how do they not know it’s a glamour? Ash made it seem like fae can tell if someone is g lamoured.”

“It’s not a glamour, Margot,” Ash told her. “I am Lord Rebinus. One of my abilities is to sh apeshift.”

“You can change your physical body?” she asked, recalling the feel of her hair while seeing the short blonde spikes in the mirror. “That’s so cool!” She paused, thinking. “Wait, so can you just be Rebinus, or can you b e anyone?”

“I can be anyone,” he said, face shifting to Nik’s, silvery hair darkening to brown. “Is there someone you want to see, Margot?” Nik’s face shifted to Ash’s, eyes lightening to the honey she knew a nd loved.

“Stop it,” she said quickly, touching his cheek . “Don’t.”

“You don’t want to see me, Go?” Ash’s voice asked her. “I can be him, if that’s what you want.”

Margot dropped her hand. Something dark and ugly welled up inside her, and she fought it down fiercely, forcing herself not to speak.

“It’s okay,” not-Ash whispered, leaning close. “He doesn’t have to know what you truly wish. We can pretend, and he’ll nev er know.”

Margot reached out and fisted his vest, yanking him to ward her.

“I’m tired of pretending,” she growled at him. “I want you—whoever you are.” She reached for the Connection, surprised again to find it missing. “Where are you?” she demanded, shaking him a little bit. “Why can’t I feel you anymore?”

Ash’s face dissolved back into Tobin’s familiar features. “I broke a thing,” he sai d meekly.

“Tobin Fetch,” she snarled his name, “what have you done?”