Page 69 of Curse the Fae

The uncertainty gives way to distraction as he slants his gaze in the vicinity of my bare feet. “You should wear socks. Your feet were cold. I tried to…”

In the midst of sleep, I’d felt his toes rubbing warmth into mine. That had been real.

“I have poor circulation,” I blurt out. “It runs in my family. That is, not my family by heart, but my family by blood. Meaning, the family I was born into, not the one that raised me. Winter or summer, tepid water or icy water, my mother had chilly feet and hands. It’s one of the few things I recall, though I’m not sure why I’d remember that particular detail, but then, we’re not in charge of what stays in our minds years later.”

My chatter ebbs. That last part is far too accurate, far too glaring for this moment to handle.

Elixir clears his throat. “You did not wake me.”

He waits as though I have all the answers, all the resolutions he lacks. I shake my head, hearing what he doesn’t say—that I didn’t stay with him, that I didn’t say goodbye, that I denied us any closure. And that, although it shouldn’t matter, it does.

“I couldn’t,” I tell him.

Because although what we’ve done can’t be undone, and although it was the most painfully erotic thing I’ve ever experienced, and although he had been as crazed as I’d been, and although we slept so deeply and closely, and although we could have remained like that, and although he’d sounded concerned rather than inconvenienced about my cold toes, and although he’s here, and I’m here, and my fingers itch to touch him, and I see his gilded eyes simmer: This was a mistake.

Elixir’s eyebrows cinch. I don’t have to announce my thoughts. My blood and pulse and breaths speak for themselves, and I know he’s beginning to feel the same, the farther we drift from this spell. Maybe it wounds him, but more likely he’s equally ashamed.

Remorse curdles in my gut. I had been lonely, overwhelmed, and recovering from several traumatic events. We’d been enchanted and temporarily ravenous. Had these feelings erupted out of hate-fueled attraction, or is this purely what happens when two beings live through an ordeal and save each other, uniting to survive a battle with predators?

Or is something more dangerous brimming?

Elixir straightens. His demeanor reassembles itself into the stoically brutal ruler he is. Then he gives a curt nod, and that’s that.

Straightaway, a reptilian shape glides from under the mattress. I jerk toward the snake, but it’s too late. The creature has made an audible appearance, his forked tongue vibrating.

When Elixir’s ears click toward the sound, I hold up my hands. “I can explain.”

Yet his features betray no astonishment. “No need,” he assures me.

The snake is heading directly for Elixir. Stunned, I watch the Fae stride toward the animal, hunker to the floor, and offer his hand, attentive to the sensory signals. The reptile entwines itself around Elixir’s forearm and rests its head there, its yellow eyes blinking at him.

Elixir lifts his bent arm, suspending the snake off the ground as if in greeting. For a moment, they regard one another, some form of communication passing between them. Mild amusement unfolds across the ruler’s face. That, and awareness.

I think about the extra portions of raw fish that had been delivered when I’d requested it, and how I’d stopped having to ask. “You knew,” I realize while kneeling beside them. “The whole time, you knew he was here.”

“The first evening, I heard him enter the chamber tub before you discovered him. He was waiting for me to leave.” Elixir’s mouth slants wryly. “He is not my companion to reveal, but I give you my word: You needn’t keep the reptile a secret. Mortal or not, he is a member of the fauna. My subjects would sooner disobey me and incur my wrath than harm an animal.”

That’s a relief and common knowledge amongst my people. Still, I hadn’t dared take that gamble. The ruler had known a mortal creature had entered his realm, a companion for his captive, and he could have objected. He could have sent the snake away just to hurt me. But he hadn’t.

Likewise, Elixir hadn’t needed to send my friend nourishment. I wonder if he did so for my sake as well. I want to thank him either way, but knowing what Faeries think of gratitude, I restrain myself.

My companion stares at Elixir. After a moment’s consideration, the Fae’s eyes spark with newfound information. He sets down the snake, who winds away and flops into the bath.

Elixir and I linger. Our heads twist toward one another, our shoulders tap, and we exchange shallow breaths.

“I was young when I came into my rule over The Solitary Deep,” he says. “Akin to a mortal of sixteen, despite my sixteen-hundred years.”

“H-how many?” I balk, causing his eyes to shine with mirth, a reaction that dulls as just soon as it comes.

“After The Trapping, my brothers and I matured quickly. Over the next nine years, I aged like a human, rapidly and exceeding a Fae’s physical capacity. Because of this shared fate, we became brothers-in-arms.”

In thin slices, he tells me how The Three became full-grown Faeries—in mind, body, and soul—over less than a decade. That’s why he resembles a male in his mid-twenties and a Fae in his prime.

Elixir makes it clear. “So, you see. I did not wait long.”

I do see. For someone destined to live forever, he wasn’t a virgin for very long, until last night. Regardless, I can only imagine how many of his kin have lusted after his dominance, power, and beauty. They must have tempted him, and for a male in my world, nine years is still a profound amount of time to abstain.

“But you still said no,” I whisper. “You said no to conquests.”

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