She patted his cheek again. No reaction. But at least he was warm and breathed evenly.
In an attempt to calm herself, Anise shifted her position so she could sit against the solid snow wall and lifted Caraway’s big head into her lap. It felt better to hold him.
He moaned. She let her knuckles graze his cheek and then rasp over the scruff on his jaw. She’d always fantasized about touching him... his face, his jaw, his horns. But the horns weren’t there this time. He was a shifter, so perhaps he’d morphed them away. She’d just never seen him do that in all the years she’d known him.
It wouldn’t surprise her if he’d chosen to keep his horns visible when he didn’t have to. Usually, a shifters’ natural fae-form was close to human, with only arched ears as a sign they were other, touched by the magic of the Well, but never Caraway. He’d always had his curved lethal horns proudly jutting from his head. He’d probably left them there to look as far from human as he could.
Humans were manaless, untouched, greedy leeches that constantly tried to invade Elphyne and reap the benefits of the Well, yet refused to follow the rules that provided Well’s magic in the first place.
No metal. No plastic. Two simple rules.
But the humans had run out of metals in their city. They’d come raiding in Elphyne to look for places to mine for resources.
Caraway’s peace-loving family were victims of one such raid. As nomads, they’d lived amongst the western snowy tundra. A human-led raiding party had massacred half his tribe. His family’s answer was to migrate further inland. Caraway’s answer was to join the Guardians where he gained enhanced powers to help him hunt humans and return the favor.
Anise’s home town, Crescent Hollow, was the closest fae settlement to the human city. Because of this proximity, Caraway was always there, sitting in the tavern where Anise had worked. Sometimes before a hunt, sometimes after, but every time he spoke of the race that murdered his kinsfolk, his cheeks would redden with fury.
“That’s what I like about you folk here in Crescent Hollow,” he’d once said. “You’re so far from human even though you’re so close. You never forget what it means to be fae.”
Crescent Hollow was a wolf-shifter town. But Anise couldn’t shift.
“Without your tail and ears, you’re basically human!”
The cruel taunts of her childhood still haunted her. She couldn’t be the thing that Caraway hated. She had to stand on her own two feet and hold her own the way mana-filled fae could.
Caraway stirred again.
Long lashes lifted slowly, warily. Warm brown eyes focused on her and then widened.
“You’re okay,” he said, incredulously. “But I saw blood.”
She smiled gently and showed her healing forearm. “I cut myself on one of those ice beasts, but I had some elven healing cream in my bag. I’ve stopped bleeding now.”
He blinked, seemingly processing her words. Then he sat up sharply and enveloped her smaller body within his. The force of his strong arms locked around her. She stiffened on reflex until his hold tightened, and then she melted into him.
For long, silent minutes, they held each other and the world was right.
It was just the two of them, warm bodies fused together in an icy world. Why couldn’t life be this simple?
Caraway pulled back just enough that he could look down into her eyes.
“Anise,” he said, voice deep and rough. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m here,” she replied.
Charged awareness bounced between them. They were close. So Well-damned close that she could stick out her tongue and lick his lips. Crimson, she wanted to. They’d never been in an embrace like this, and they both knew it.
How would he react? Would he pull away and act as many others did?
What are you dumb as well as less? The voice of her last customer rang through her mind. Her heart sank. She lowered her eyes, but Caraway used his finger to tilt her chin up. This time, there was an intensity in his gaze that rocked her to her core. Heat and desire stirred in her lower belly. Confused, she frowned at him.
His intensity held until she squirmed. Then he licked his lips, looked down at hers, and leaned in until there was no doubt in her mind what he was about to do. She froze with anticipation. Her nerves thrummed with energy.
The tips of their noses touched and his lashes shuttered as though he was in pain. Their breaths came in stilted gasps… and then he moved his lips an iota. Closer.
They didn’t kiss. Not yet. Maybe he was thinking the same things as she—that this kiss would change everything. That this was the one thing she’d always wanted, but feared would never happen. That he would turn away and change his mind. That she was less, and not good enough.
But he nudged his lips toward hers. He closed the gap. He lifted her chin. Almost.
And then... soft lips landed on hers, capturing her mouth, leaving her breathless. She went liquid with a moan.
Caraway growled with approval, splayed a big hand at her back, and tugged her closer as though she weighed nothing to him. Damn, he was strong. It sent a thrill tripping through her stomach. Her soft front slammed against his hard chest and he deepened their kiss.
Yes. He wanted this too.
Knowing it flipped a switch inside her. She speared fingers into his hair, tightened her grip, kissed harder, and drank him up. Her tongue dueled with his and plundered his mouth for more. His taste was like a drug, and he must have felt the same way because he held her so tight she could barely move. When they finally broke for air, they still couldn’t let go of each other.
He felt hot, hard, a little sweaty, and she wanted more.
“Anise,” he rasped deeply, eyes searching hers. Something flickered in them, and her doubt came hurtling back.
He’s going to say this is a mistake.
Before he could speak, she blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Your horns are gone. I’ve never seen you without them.”
He blinked. His jaw clicked shut. And he frowned. “What?”
She gestured to his head.
Caraway’s looming body pulled back. His warmth went with him.
“So stupid. I forgot,” he admonished himself.
The air shimmered around his head, and then two sharp horns grew from above his temples until they curved down and outward from his cheekbones.
The shame in his posture surprised Anise. His eyes turned downcast.
“It’s because you think you look human without the horns, don’t you?” she asked, and then elaborated. “You keep the horns so you look different to those who killed your family.”
He jerked back. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. I guess you’re always talking about how much you hate them, and how much you love the shifters at Crescent Hollow looking so different to them.”
His brows lowered. His gaze darkened. “Anise, I don’t love the shifters at the Hollow because they look different from humans. They are different from humans. Especially you—you’re kind, selfless, and brave.” He shuffled closer and lifted her chin to look hard into her eyes. “I keep my horns because you’re self-conscious of your tail. I do it so you think we’re the same outside and in—” He tapped her sternum. “From the moment I met you, Anise, you’ve accepted me for who I am. Unlike my family, who disowned me for wanting to protect them, you’ve always taken me as I came. I keep my horns to show you I accept you as you are.”