“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice shrill and high enough to shatter glasses if any were around.
“I don’t know yet,” he breathes. “What is a swizarmee knife?”
A what? Oh, he means a Swiss Army… I open my mouth to answer, and his blond head lowers. Soft lips gently brush mine and reality shifts and spins, dropping me into total blackness.
I struggle toward the light, wading up and up and up. Heart pounding, I whip my face left, and manage to stutter, “Are you…were you kissing me?”
Silver eyes widen. “No. No. I was going to try and… that is to say, I was going to, ah…”
As his words disappear like wisps of clouds, I realize he’s just as shocked as I am by the bizarre lip collision. That’s fine. I can handle a dazed and confused fae far more easily than I can deal with an overbearing pain-in-the-neck version.
I force a smirk. “You, an Elemental fae huntsman, are attracted to me, a human who you’ve just spent at least twenty-four hours calling a troll, a goblin, and a spotted wasp. What does that say about you, Never? Personally, I think it strongly hints that you’re a hypocrite. And, also, why have your eyes turned blue?”
Those pretty irises of his darken to slate gray as thunder blasts the sky, shaking the ground beneath my feet. Yikes. I’ve done it now.
Chest pumping, he pushes off the tree and paces in front of me. His cloak swirls. His hands clench tightly against his thighs.
“You are wrong. I have never taken anyone like you to my bed and I…” He goes still as stone, and then turns slowly to face me. “My eyes turned blue?” he asks, like I’ve informed him he’s the spitting image of the abominable snowman.
“They went aquamarine and glowy.” And they looked cool, too, but I won’t mention that bit.
He stands frozen, one fair eyebrow hiked and arms crossed in a position of disbelief.
“And you might not think I’m worthy to take to your bed but, for a moment there, it seemed like you thought the forest floor might be an appropriate alternative. An okay alternative for you that it is, I wouldn’t have been alright with it. Not at all.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a fae prr…huntsman. I’m not interested in bedding humans—whether it be in my chambers or on the forest floor.” He shakes his head, a riot of silver and gold locks tumbling around his face and shoulders. “I was experimenting with some new trick, that is all… but I seem to have forgotten what it was…” He looks to the stormy sky. “No matter. I tire of this conversation, and I need not explain myself to you, Wasp. Move now. It’s time to leave. A strange magic brews in the shadows of this place. One I have never before encountered.”
We return to the clearing where we had our picnic, and he speaks harshly to Jinn and Balor as he packs in a hurry, throwing stuff around carelessly.
I watch and wring my hands together, wondering if I should have kissed him back. Perhaps I could’ve delayed our travels a day or two, romping in a bower with him. Er, no. Yuck. The idea of that sends shivers rippling down my spine.
When he’s done packing, he chucks me on the horse like a rotting sack of potatoes he’d rather leave behind but dare not in case he runs out of food and has to devour me as a last resort.
Not for the first time, I wonder if fae eat humans. I wish I wouldn’t think of such awful things. I don’t plan to become a meal for the huntsman. In fact, I’ll do everything within my power to prevent it happening. Which isn’t saying much. Any control I hold over my circumstances right now is a figment of my imagination. Which is what I’d prefer Ever was—an illusion. A bad dream I might wake from at any moment. Right now would be nice.
We ride for hours through open grasslands, always heading north and not straying far from Fire River.
The huntsman is silent the whole journey, his body a wall of creaking leather that I strive not to lean against. I resent being in his arms and how tightly he holds me. I hate that I can’t easily get away.
I think of the fae warriors in Mom’s paintings, their cruel beauty, the dreams I used to have of being chased by one through a dark forest. How those dreams were always frightening until the faceless man caught me—then they turned into something else altogether. Something embarrassing. Something that makes my stomach heat and forces me to squirm farther away from Ever.
When dusk falls like a purple veil around us, I’m struggling to keep my eyes open, and Ever finally brings Jinn to a halt. “We will rest here for the night.”
Thank goodness.
He slides from the saddle, then pulls me down onto the wet grass.
I stand blinking in the dark. All I see are shadows merging into total blackness. Nothing else.
Within minutes, Ever has a fire burning, one of those sweet-smelling sleeping bowers built, and me huddled on a log shivering as I gnaw on a hunk of cheese. To get things done, he employs a mix of magic and woodsman’s survival skills. He’s fast, efficient, and brutal in the execution of his chores. I’d hate to see the damage he wreaks when he uses the long sword strapped to his hips against someone.
As he feeds Jinn, I feel him watching me. It’s unnerving and makes me fidget and squirm on my log. When Jinn’s sorted, Ever slings his massive bow and leather quiver full of arrows over his back. “Stay there. I’m hunting,” he says, and stalks off into the trees without so much as a backward glance.
He must be getting something to cook on the fire. My mouth waters at the thought as my mind conjures visions of baked potatoes and pumpkin soup served with crunchy bread heaped with salty butter.
Within minutes, the huntsman returns swinging a dead bunny by the legs. It’s not spaghetti carbonara, but I’m prepared to eat almost anything right now if it will take away the ache in my belly.
He doesn’t speak as he skins, skewers, and cooks dinner, and I’m too tired to annoy him with prattle. The comforting crackle of the fire is the only sound between us as the wood snaps and pops.
Balor and I eat like barbarians while the huntsman watches closely, picking at his food.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I can’t help asking as I lick juice from my fingers.
“A little. I don’t feel it the same as you two obviously do,” he says, implying he’s miles above us.
A log rolls and sparks dance up into the blackness. An owl hoots. Balor groans.
My bladder hurts. “I need the bathroom,” I say.
“You’ve already bathed and in case you haven’t noticed, it is nighttime.”
“I need to relieve myself. Do you even know what that is?” Of course he does.
He rolls his eyes. “Again? You have no stamina. Truly, humankind are weak.”
“And faeries are assholes.”
Instead of throttling me, he smiles. How bizarre.
Flicking his head toward the river, he says. “Go there. Don’t stray far.”
“Yes, sir.” I stumble up and stargaze on my way to the riverbank.
I’ve never seen a night sky quite like the one above—the way pinpricks of light whirl across it, forming strange constellations nothing like the ones we see from Earth. The moon, barely glowing, is just a sliver, and the trees creak and groan like ghoulish shadows lining my path.
Balor follows, sniffing and snuffling through the brush, and I’m glad of his company. All around us is beauty and magic, but it’s an incredibly spooky kind of wonderful.