Page 4 of Dark Fey Captive

Mya, Drav’s female, said it was because they were not used to the unique beauty of our eyes. But I knew the females who screamed were afraid. Mya and the other females with fey husbands had been afraid at first, too.

They did not like our yellow eyes, grey skin, or pointed ears—or how fast and silently we moved. They saw our strength and how well we could hear their whispers as a way to control them. But we had no desire to control them. We simply wanted to stay by their sides.

However, co-existing with humans came with many rules.

No tearing off living human heads; only infected ones.

No tearing off living human arms when challenged.

No assuming gunfire is a challenge and tearing off arms or heads.

I sighed and slowed to a jog, thinking of the rule I hated the most.

Wear clothes at all times.

Except for bathing. Then clothes could be removed. But only in private.

How would I ever see a female’s pretty breasts and pussy if they only removed their clothes when they were alone…when I couldn’t see them?

Gyrik said that Ava hadn’t been like other afraid females, slow to warm or afraid. She’d been more like Mya. Curious. Open. Willing.

She’d let him see her pussy within only a few days.

I reached down, adjusted myself, and leaped onto the roof of the nearest house.

If I found a new female, maybe I wouldn’t need to wait long either.

Scanning the rooftops, I searched for signs of life. Humans grew cold easily. If any were nearby, I would see smoke from the fires they would need to warm themselves. However, I saw nothing.

Disappointed, I jumped from the roof and continued north, where the scent of water was stronger.

Before I’d left, Gyrik had explained the route to reach where he had found Ava. It had sounded simple: Follow the road the humans called “Interstate 35” north to the bombed ruins of the first destroyed city, Des Moines. Skirt east around them, and then follow the same road until reaching the ruins of another, much larger city, Minneapolis.

Before smelling the water, I’d begun to doubt I’d picked up the same road after the first bombed city—they all looked the same to me, and I couldn’t read human language, only speak it.

Perhaps I’d simply missed the ruins of the second city, and this was the Duluth city he’d said would be next to the water.

I jogged through the streets, thinking Duluth didn’t look as densely populated as many big cities. It was smaller. More rural.

Rural was good.

Fewer humans to turn infected.

The chance of survivors was higher.

Gyrik had found Ava in the middle of the woods. He thought that was how she had survived alone and unprotected for so long. And if she could survive, so could other females.

Many of the infected had died weeks ago, leaving the scattered remains of humanity safer. From infected. But not from starvation or each other.

Humans didn’t share well, especially food. They would injure or kill each other for food. Males had little reverence or respect for gender or age. They would take from anyone too young or old to defend themselves.

Most males.

Not all.

Some human males were willing to work alongside us to protect the surviving females. Those men did not try to shoot us with guns because we looked different. They risked their lives to gather supplies so the females would not need to.

Reaching an intersection, I glanced at the large, three-story building across the road where an infected banged its hand against a window. Its clearer eyes indicated it was older. Newly turned always had milky white eyes. As they aged, their eyes cleared and they grew smarter—smart enough to open doors, climb things, and set traps for humans, using supplies or human children as bait.