The Pixies’ Chosen (Mated to the Monster: Season 2)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

AMMAYI

T he gods have a sense of humor. That’s the only thing I can think of as I slowly fight to consciousness with the enormous bodies of family and friends towering over me like mountains. One moment I was chatting with my sister and her fiancé and going through all the social motions, and the next moment I am waking up no more than a handful of inches tall, lying in grass that rises like tall spears all around me.

I stare at the blades in bewilderment, unable to comprehend exactly what happened to me. I know that much of it is shock, but for a long moment I can’t even move or do anything but stare up at my new world looming terrifyingly above me. I only just barely come to my senses in time to evade a shoe that steps far too close for my comfort. It is only at that moment that it occurs to me that no one even realizes I’m there.

No one except for the giant crow staring down at me from where it’s perched on the fence. Its head is angled to the side as it watches me with one dark eye. The feathers on its neck puff out and flatten in a manner that almost seems contemplative—as if it is considering what kind of meal I might make.

I scurry back, crab walking as I scoot my butt across the ground—unwilling to take my eyes from it as the horrifying realization dawns on me that, somehow, I had shrunk! Rolling to my belly, I shove up to my feet, not even bothering to grab for my odhni as it falls from around my shoulders to the ground, and blindly run, dodging the feet of relatives as I had for the safety of the nearest tree. The house would be preferable, but at this point that crow is stationed directly between me and it and I strongly suspect that I don’t have a chance at making it past the cunning scavenger.

For a moment I consider trying to wave down either my mother or sister, but as small as I am there isn’t much of a chance of being able to get their attention from the ground. Not even the bright orange, silk kurti I’m wearing seems to be enough to catch anyone’s eye. I just don’t get it, though. What happened to me?

Also… why do my parents have to be so vigilant at keeping the yard clean? There are next to no fallen leaves to use for cover while I make my way across the yard. Even the grass is freshly manicured rather than providing me so much as the smallest amount of shelter. I grumble to myself as I quicken my pace and pant, all the while weaving back and forth hoping that it will discourage the crow from coming after me. Last I heard it works for gators, so why not crows? Right?

At last, the craggy root of the oak rises before me, and I could kiss the stupid thing as I make a beeline for it. Of course, it seems to come at me at a slow pace because, even though I’m huffing and panting as I run with all my might, my tiny legs aren’t carrying me very far. I curse the stupid tree being so far away.

Quick glances back over my shoulder confirm that the stupid bird has hopped from the fence to a table. And then to the ground. The bird rotates its head slightly as if working to track my weaving path. It isn’t getting any closer at the moment, but I curse myself for never taking cardio seriously—or exercise at all really—and am carrying more than a scant few extra pounds on my curvy frame.

That’s it! If I survive this, I really need to get in shape.

Not that going to the gym is going to be an option if I can’t find a way to reverse this bizarre nightmare. Whoever heard of spontaneous shrinking being a real-world problem? Even with fae beings moving into our world and cohabiting with us, I’ve never heard of anyone just randomly shrinking. That I’m the one to draw this particularly shitty straw is not entirely shocking. I just can’t seem to win, and it strikes me as I’m literally running for my life that I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of this situation.

My head swivels to glance back over my shoulder again, but a pulsing glow moving in front of me that I catch out of the corner of my eye has me looking straight ahead again. And with my dumb luck, it’s just in time to get a very good impression of a pewter-colored chiseled chest looming in front of me, shimmering with a hint of a violet glow seconds before I run smack into it.

And it’s no light landing. Usually a chest, even a muscular one, will have the tiniest amount of give, of flesh impacting flesh, but running into this chest feels like running into a wall… or the campus statue I just tripped on and fell into. I slam into it and immediately begin to crumple in shock before a pair of hands stop my fall—and not the hands belonging to the chest of steel because a pair of powerful-looking arms are crossing over that chest. My eyes trail up to a beautiful face scowling disdainfully down at me.

His face is sharp and angular, almost elven if not for plating like ridges on his brow—in fact, on second glance, his flesh appears more chitinous than anything else—and the twitching antennae peeking out from his tousled hair. I stare at that hair for a moment because although it is straight and thick, it stands out around his face in a manner that isn’t really achieved naturally. I have cosplay friends and have known them to spend hours styling wigs to get that same effect. It falls in fluffed out spikes around two large, long, and pointed ears that are more prominent than anything I’ve seen on any other fae being. Of course, my experience isn’t substantial, but it stands out enough to be remarkable to me. As are the blistering cold black eyes and the perfectly carved mouth that is currently thinning at me.

Okay, this is definitely not the sort of guy to hold me tenderly judging by his pissy expression. I’m not entirely sure what his problem is and why he’s making me the butt of it. All I know is that it’s a pity that something so pretty can look like a complete ass. This begs the question, however, if he is not holding me… then who is?

My head slowly cranes back, and I peer over my shoulder at another pretty pewter man standing behind me. This one, however, despite his inhuman coloring, looks like he belongs on the cover of a romance novel with all that long, wavy dark hair and full lips that are currently curving into a smile as he peers down at me. Whereas Hot Guy Number One has a cold, elegant beauty that I would associate with the sexiness of a blade, Hot Guy Number Two here has a broody artist look to him in his goth hues interrupted only by the vivid color of my odhni clasped in his other hand. And while the first had a glowing violet cast to him, this one has a glow of rich blues that is emphasized by a pair of large indigo wings that suddenly flutter behind him.

My eyes widen slightly as he draped the broad scarf around me, and I stare at that point over his shoulder even though the wings have already disappeared. Did I really just see… Does he really have scalloped dragonfly wings? My mouth gapes open as a thrill shoots through me.

“Fairies!”

Hot Guy Number Two’s lips quirk, but it is the sharp bark of laughter behind me from Hot Guy Number One that has my head whipping back around to look blankly at the male standing in front of me. This time I can see plainly the pair of violet wings standing upright from his back as they flare and move behind him as he visibly works to control his temper. I clearly have said something wrong but I’m relieved when he doesn’t blow up at me—big confrontations are really not my thing—but I’m not comforted when his gaze shoots to the male behind with a contemptuous glare.

“You see, Tryst? I cannot do this. Absolutely not!” he growls, his wings practically vibrating now in front of him. Even his chitin seems to be vibrating with a chilling chiming sound.

“Calm down, Havoc,” the one called Tryst replies from behind me. “Humans can seldom tell the different races of fae apart, and fairies have always spread misinformation among their race like goblin farts. Besides, we do possess a similar general build.”

“I do not resemble a fairy,” Havoc—aptly named in my opinion, given how hot and cold he obviously runs—protests but his ire does appear to be visibly receding as he squints at me. “We are pixies from the upper Dark Forest, human.”

“Ammayi,” I immediately correct as I peer over at him. “So, what’s the difference?”

A cold, slightly cruel smile stretches across his face in response to my question. “The difference is that if we were fairies, we would be eating you, not conversing with you.”

“Well, there are all kinds of eating,” I mutter under my breath without thinking.

His long ears twitch, and my cheeks grow hot with the realization that he clearly heard me. Big ears, Ammayi—he has basically skinny bat ears plastered to either side of his head.

I groan inwardly but plaster an innocent smile on my face as he frowns at me as if he is trying to decide whether or not to chase the obvious innuendo. It’s no lie, though. I wouldn’t mind being enthusiastically eaten and then hate-fucked by the pixie standing in front of me. His personality sucks ass, but I don’t necessarily have to like him to scratch that particular itch. It’s not like this is a marriage proposal.

“Okay, so, pixies… Well, I imagine that you boys are responsible for the shrinking since you’re the smallest people around here. So if you can unshrink me, that would be great,” I continue blithely as I try to up the charm wattage in my smile. It never works for me like it does for Inika so I’m not entirely surprised when this guy doesn’t bat an eyelash.

“We cannot,” he bites out slowly, and I blink.

I wasn’t really expecting that.

“You can’t?” I parrot in surprise.

“It is like this,” Tryst interjects as he gently releases me—unfortunately because I was kind of enjoying that—and moves over to my right. “It is a matter of fate. You are our mate,” he says cheerfully.

I eye him, wondering what Kool-Aid he drank this morning because that is news to me—and it is having the side effect of making Havoc’s expression darken even further, which isn’t exactly ideal for a fairy—uh, pixie—mate, much less any kind of happy ever after. I am not feeling particularly lovey toward him either with the way he sneers at Tryst’s words.

“She is not our mate,” he replies coldly.

“She is now, and I’m keeping her,” Tryst shoots back with enough of a bite to his voice that I blink at him, a little won over.

Can I keep Tryst and chuck Havoc?

I’m kind of warming up to that idea, but I need to put a pin in this before these guys get out of hand quarreling out here in the open. That damn crow is looking brave again as it hops slightly in place, and unlike these two, I don’t have wings to make a quick escape.

Without thinking twice about it, I grab Tryst’s arm to get his attention. Sadly, this has the unanticipated effect of thoroughly distracting me for a moment so that I’m staring blankly up at him with a silly smile. He smiles back at me, and we stand like that for a few heartbeats before I suddenly remember myself and quickly release him with an embarrassed grin.

“As flattering as all of this is, my family is going to go nuclear if I just disappear. Is there some way you can take me back to the house?” I wiggle a finger in the direction of the patio door. Both Havoc and Tryst’s heads turn in that direction simultaneously, and they both adopt identical scrutinizing expressions as they study it.

“That is not a proper home for a pixie,” Tryst replies hesitantly. “You won’t be comfortable there.”

I smile at him mirthfully, but once again Havoc’s mouth ruins everything.

“You are overthinking. It will not be a problem because she is not a pixie,” he cuts in with another humming flutter of his wings. “We might as well just take her there and get this over with if that is what is required for her safety so that we can leave.”

Leave… as in take off and leave me stuck like this?

I gape at him, but Tryst gently takes my arm and steers me away with a sweet smile. “Do not mind him. Havoc is just a little… peculiar. We will not abandon you.” His smile widens. “Now allow us to get you home.”

He bends and my heart flutters as he scoops me up effortlessly into his arms. Although his chitin is hard, I notice that his temperature actually runs hot as he holds me against him. He’s also lit up like a Christmas tree with his pretty indigo glow that I noticed a hint of earlier. It’s coming from his abdomen like a freaking firefly, and it is really the best thing I’ve ever seen. Okay, I may be more than a little smitten here because he cuddles me close like I’m the most precious thing as his wings rise and spread with a rapid flutter before he flicks up into the air.

Bouncing lightly on air currents as we fly is a bit like a kiddies’ rollercoaster ride, and my shrieks of laughter cannot be contained as he zips for the house, leaving the stupid crow far behind. I’m almost sad that Havoc doesn’t splatter on the glass patio door, but the moment we’re inside I’m able to put aside such juvenile thoughts to sigh in relief when we land on the kitchen counter.

Safety achieved, now there is a bigger hurdle to conquer, and as I turn, I notice it’s heading right toward me as Mummi hurries toward the house with Papa and Inika trailing right behind her. I wince at the sound of her voice booming through the kitchen as she steps inside in a flurry of silk.

“Where is Ammayi? Ammayi!” she calls loudly through the house, forcing me to slap my hands over my ears as she tosses a frustrated glance toward my sister. “Inika, did she say she was going anywhere?”

Inika shakes her head as her gaze slowly shifts around the kitchen. And gods bless my sharp-eyed sister because her eyes fall on the counter and widen at the undoubtedly colorful display the males are making beside me. Mouth dropping open, she grabs ahold of Mummi’s sleeve and tugs it gently and nods toward the counter.

I’m not at all prepared for the shocked wail that comes from my mother when her gaze moves from the pixies and immediately lands upon me.

“Ammayi! How did this happen? What do we do? You have become Tinkerbell!”