Page 7 of Hunted By the Fae Warden

I pause in the street and glance around. Trevos is a shithole compared to the beautiful town of Linnshire and the surrounding countryside. I’m still not certain whether I’m pleased or dismayed that I’ll have no choice but to remain close to my ill-fated human mate. Mira. Gods, I wonder what she’s doing right now. Fuck. No, I don’t.

I regard my friend. “I don’t blame you for my new posting, Tristan. It’s not your fault. Prince Lucas needed a highborn soldier to stay behind, and I’m the logical choice. Not only am I his distant cousin, but the Linnshire army, though well-trained, won’t be missed on the road, as we’re one of the smaller contingents.”

Tristan flashes a rare grin. “I think he also chose you because he’s heard tell of what a brutally honest ass you can be. He grows tired of the simpering fools who constantly pay him compliments.”

“Yes, I suppose he trusts me, in a way.” I sigh. “I must address my soldiers and write to my father. Find me before you depart, General Dalgaard. I want one last look at you, so if you die in battle, I can remember your pretty face.”

He smirks. “I’ll find you before we march out next week,Warden Valloc.”

CHAPTER 5

MIRA

One creditor down,three to go. Though I’m thrilled I just managed to pay off one debt, I hasten down the street, anxious to return home before I’m spotted by one of the other lenders to whom I still owe money. Thankfully, I reach Sunflower Lane without incident.

After I slip inside the gate, my gaze catches on bright colors in the trees and bushes. I walk closer, stunned to my core. It can’t be. And yet… one of the raspberry bushes is covered in ripe berries. I pick one and study it, then pop it into my mouth. Flavor explodes across my tongue, the perfect blend of tart and sweet. It doesn’t make sense, none of this does.

I glance around the garden, my disbelief growing as I spy huge red apples hanging from the apple trees and large winter squash on the vines. The more I explore, the more I find. I kneel to touch a fully grown cucumber, then move to a tomato plant that’s no longer wilted. I count over twenty fully ripe tomatoes. There’s also a nice crop of corn that appears ready for harvest.

How?

I straighten and peer over the fence at the nearest neighbor’s garden, but it’s as dead as any garden amid the cold winter months. During my walk through the city today, I didn’t see a single blooming plant, not even the smallest flower. It doesn’t make sense, and yet my garden has come back to life on a day I can visibly see my breath.

This morning, just before leaving to visit the creditor, I’d stood on the porch surveying my little domain, wishing with all my heart that the growing season would’ve lasted longer. I’d also spent a few moments envisioning my garden in its full splendor. Somehow, my wishes have come to pass.

Deciding I’ll figure out the why of it later, I get to work on the harvest, knowing I should probably pick everything and preserve it as soon as possible. Before the fruits and vegetables die in the morning frost tomorrow, or before a neighbor takes notice. I can only imagine the rumors that would spread if someone witnessed this sight. People would say I was a witch or perhaps in league with the fae, and I don’t want that sort of trouble.

It's backbreaking work and it takes all day and night, but I manage to get the job done. All the shelves in my pantry that were empty after my trip to Barry’s Trading Post are once again brimming with food. My spirits rise as I fight back a yawn.

Tomorrow, I’ll sell more canned goods and dried herbs in the marketplace, as well as a small selection of fresh fruits and vegetables. If Barry won’t take the items, I’ll find someone else. Then perhaps I can pay off a second creditor.

I won’t lose my house.

Tears spring to my eyes, but I’m too tired to actually cry, so I reheat last night’s soup, grab a slice of bread, and sit at the table. I eat quickly, clean the kitchen, and head upstairs.

Despite my exhaustion, I toss and turn all night. Every time I fall asleep, I dream about the horned, white-winged fae male.You’re mine, he keeps telling me. Over and over. In dream after dream.

You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.

In the morning, after rising much later than planned, I dress and have a quick breakfast, then eye my father’s ax as I contemplate sneaking into the forest to cut some firewood. I could always postpone my trip to the marketplace until tomorrow. But before I can reach a decision, I experience a sudden wave of warmth that gives me pause.

I turn to the window, yet there’s no one there. But I feel it. I feelhim. The horned, white-winged fae. A pleasurable shudder affects me as I recall how striking he’d looked standing on top of the building in the marketplace the other day, his wings spread wide, the sunlight gleaming off his curved horns. I shouldn’t be attracted to him, but I can’t help it. I shouldn’t be thinking about him all the time, but I can’t help that either.

Has he glamoured me into desiring him? Or am I naturally drawn to the handsome fae male whose name I don’t even know?

I peer out the window but see nothing. Just like the last time I’d sensed him visiting my home. But I’m certain he’s here.

Unable to stop myself, needing to get closer to him and experience more of the warmth, I step onto the porch, not even bothering to don a cloak. The day is so cold my teeth immediately start chattering, but that tender feeling of warmth makes it more bearable.

“Hello?” I whisper. “I know you’re there. Show yourself.” When he doesn’t reveal himself, I decide on another tactic. “Come on, don’t be a coward.Show yourself, fae.”

A deep chuckle fills the air, then the huge horned fae male appears before me. Yes,appears. Out of thin air. His wings aren’t out, but he still looks as resplendent as ever.

My heart beats faster. Up close, he’s so remarkably stunning, I find myself at a loss for words. The chilled breeze ruffles his hair. He climbs the steps and closes the space between us.

Not for the first time in his presence, time stops.

He’s close. So close that I feel the waves of warmth coming off his body. My teeth stop chattering, and I’m very aware of how little space exists between us. He could reach out and touch me. If he wanted to. Or I could touch him. A boundless ache builds inside me, and I find myself struggling for air.

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