Page 18 of Hunted By the Fae Warden

My heart sinks when she grabs the basket of freshly husked corn and goes inside, shutting the door behind her. Fuck. I miss her. I need to see her again. Soon.

Wanting her feels like a madness for which there is no cure. No cure unless I take possession of her and claim her. How satisfying it would be to seal the mating bond between us.

I abruptly realize I’m no longer flying back and forth over the northern part of the city, but I’m treading air far too close to Mira’s house. A glance around shows I’m alone in the sky, thetraining exercise I was supposed to be supervising has already concluded. A contingent of winged fae are gathered on the ground while Tristan addresses them.

Fuck. The general. He’s going to suspect there’s something going on with me, and I very much don’t want him asking questions. I still don’t feel comfortable telling anyone about Mira. It’s complicated because our mating union would affect the thousands of faefolk in Linnshire.

I don’t want to admit to anyone that I’m close to losing control and forsaking my duties just so I might hold Mira in my arms, kiss her, and thrust home between her thighs.

I’m about to join the winged contingent on the ground when the pretty human exits her home and heads down the road. My heart warms just to see her again, even from high above the city. Her auburn hair gleams in the sunshine, making her easy to follow.

And follow her, I do.

I follow her as she visits the marketplace, then as she visits the home of a friend, the same young female I’ve seen her with before. I’m glad she still has at least one friend, though it grieves me to know her reputation has been ruined and that most people are avoiding her.

All because she was spotted walking with me as I transported her firewood home.

I hadn’t intended to cause her any trouble and I regret that I have, but I couldn’t not escort her home that day. After discovering her missing from her home when I specifically ordered her to shelter in place, I’d needed to see her return to her property with my own eyes. Given her act of rebelliousness that day, I needed to be absolutely certain that she’d made it home safe and sound.

If only we hadn’t argued. If only she could entertain my point of view and understand that I’m duty bound to protect faeinterests. When the Brossnin family of the Summer Court calls Linnshire soldiers to war, we must follow orders and fight for our people.

Ussha will only keep spreading. I muse that it won’t be long before the vegetation in the lands once solely occupied by humans and orcs becomes visibly infused with the lifeforce of ussha. One day, likely soon, the vegetation in the forests surrounding Trevos will gleam and sparkle in the darkness, providing illumination even on moonless nights.

I settle on a distant rooftop as I wait for Mira to emerge from her friend’s house, hoping I’m far enough away that she won’t see me. Or feel me. I know she experiences the same warmth I do when we’re close.

Hours later, she departs her friend’s home in the early evening and returns to her property on Sunflower Lane. I keep plenty of space between us as I follow her home. The instinct to make sure she returns safely is too strong to ignore. She’s my mate and I must protect her. Even if we never join our bodies as one and consummate our union, I must keep her safe.

Once I’m certain she’s settled for the night, I return to my quarters in the castle. My room feels so empty that I almost leave and join the revelers in the receiving hall, where Prince Lucas is no doubt holding court. I hear the music and drunken laughter, but in the end, I don’t join in the merriment.

The only companionship I desire is Mira’s.

Gods, how I miss her.

CHAPTER 12

MIRA

Another week passes,and I don’t glimpse Kaiden once. Ugh.Warden Valloc. I really should stop thinking of him as Kaiden. Referring to him by his first name feels too intimate. It implies we’re friends.

Friends don’t kiss one another until they’re both breathless.

I wince at my own thoughts as I step outside and survey my homestead. Even now, a week after that explosive kiss, my face burns and warmth pulses in my core. He’d felt so huge and hard as he pressed his body against mine. Though I don’t really have any experience with men, aside from a few fumbling kisses, he’d seemed a great deal larger than the average human man.

My face burns hotter when I inadvertently summon a mental image of what his cock might look like.

In hopes of cooling my desires, I don’t wrap my cloak very tightly around myself as I descend the porch steps and enter the garden surrounding my home. I head for the largest apple tree, which rests at the edge of my property near the stone wall, wanting to see if my little experiment has worked. Yesterdayafternoon, I’d sat on the ground near the apple tree, placed my hands on the soil, and envisioned the tree with dozens of ripe apples hanging on the limbs. Just this one tree. I didn’t focus on any other part of my homestead.

Ever since that morning I awoke to find my garden in full bloom, nearly all the fruits and vegetables and herbs ready for harvest, I’ve been itching to try summoning my garden, or a small part of it, to life again.

When the large tree near the stone wall comes into view, I gasp and halt in my tracks. Not only did my little experiment work, but it seems to have worked too well. There are so many ripe apples that many of the limbs are hanging low due to the weight.

Despite my excitement over the find, and the knowledge that the harvest will bring a fair price in the marketplace, a horrifying thought seizes me.

Am I a witch?

I don’t know much about witches, only that they are feared and hunted down. I remember a witch and a mage were caught in Trevos when I was a young girl, and both were sentenced to hang. Neither of my parents attended the public hanging, and I stayed home from school that day to avoid the jeering crowds.

But how can one be a witch and not know? Or can a person only become a witch if they’re trained by one? I haven’t the first clue, and I don’t know who I might ask without raising suspicions. Some of the elderly women on my street might know a thing or two about witches, but if I start asking weird questions, it’ll only result in more gossip spreading about me.

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