Rosemary and Rue Read Online Free PDF Page A

then, Tybalt’s pureblooded Cait Sidhe, and he can do a lot of things I can’t. He smirked. I glared.
    I’m not short, but Tybalt’s about six inches taller, giving him just enough height to look down on me when the fancy takes him. He’s got the sort of sleek, muscled build that only comes from a few specific types of exercise programs. For most men, that would mean yoga or running. In Tybalt’s case, it means bloody control of the local Court of Cats. He became their King by right of blood; he’s held the position by beating the crap out of anyone who tries to take it away. The Cait Sidhe take a more direct and violent approach to succession than most of Faerie.
    Even in the dim light of the alley, I could pick out the darker bands of brown that streaked his short-cropped, slightly tousled hair, mimicking a tabby’s coat. His eyes were narrowed, but I knew that if I could see them, they’d be green, split by cat-slit pupils. Add all that to skin like ivory and the sort of face that winds up on magazine covers, and it’s no wonder that Tybalt’s looks get him a long way with a lot of people. Not with me. That doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed them—the man is basically walking sex appeal—but I’m not dumb enough to do anything more than look. Even when I was interacting with Faerie of my own free will, I only looked when I was sure he couldn’t see me. Some games are too dangerous to play.
    “But you’re so easy to sneak up on.” He crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. “You should be honored that I bother, since there’s no challenge to it.”
    “Right,” I said, dryly.
    Tybalt has never made a secret of his contempt for changelings in general and me in particular. Not even the fourteen years I spent missing and presumed dead could change that. If anything, it made things worse, because when I came back, I promptly removed myself from all the places he was accustomed to finding me. Hating me suddenly took effort—an effort he’s proved annoyingly glad to make. On the other hand, it’s actually been something of a relief, because it’s something I can count on. Dawn comes, the moon wanes, and Tybalt hates me.
    His smile broadened, displaying the tips of oversized canines. “Maybe I should make it a hobby. That might give you something to look forward to.”
    “You could get yourself hurt that way.”
    If the threat bothered him, he didn’t show it. He just smirked. “Is that so?”
    His words were mild, but there was a warning underneath them, telling me that if I pressed things further, it was at my own peril. It’s moments like these when I think he’s not the King of Cats just because he’s so tied to his subjects, but also because of the way he plays with people. And I, of course, had put myself into the perfect position to be a plaything, since I couldn’t exactly claim the protection of my liege lord while I was denying all of Faerie.
    “Probably not,” I admitted, as calmly as I could. I didn’t need to get myself hurt just because I was being jumpy. “I just don’t like it when people sneak up on me.” Past experience told me he could smell my fear; it also told me that the anger accompanying it would pretty much cover the scent. It’s good to know how to compensate for your own weaknesses.
    “I do adore the costume. What are you these days, a maidservant? A charwoman in one of these glass towers?” Tybalt tilted his head to the side, studying me. “The trousers fail to flatter, but the blouse is sufficiently gauzy.”
    “Ha, ha,” I said, pulling my coat closed and folding my arms over my chest. I was blushing, much as I didn’t want to be. Bastard.
    “Really, if you’d just do something with your hair, perhaps you could take a few steps up the social ladder. I understand that there are things called ‘scissors’ these days, very advanced, they allow you to—please don’t be alarmed, I promise it’s painless— shorten and even out the strands.