Kiera sighs. “Well, some say he looks like you. A huge stag that watches them from afar. Some of the hunters also say he looks like a man with antlers, so I suppose they must’ve seen you in this form as well. Still, others have described a red-eyed creature that slinks in the shadows and never quite appears solid.”
A red-eyed creature that slinks in the shadows? I suppress a growl as I glance out the window. Demons always have red eyes. Even when they shapeshift or inhabit the body of another creature, their red eyes always give them away. Fuck. It sounds like the Nameless One. I pray the creature has departed for a distant forest across the realm, though I vow to stay vigilant incase it remains nearby. I also pray that one day the wind will whisper its true name, allowing me to finally destroy it.
“I’m sorry the archers shot at you,” Kiera says, “though I’m glad they didn’t hurt you.”
I study her expression for any hint of deceit, but she looks honest enough. Not that I have much experience with humans. I’ve observed them for ages, mostly from a distance, and I only interact with them on rare occasions.
Lately, however, I’ve been taking my human form more often. I’ve spent the last few years living in an abandoned hunter’s cabin and sleeping in a bed in my human form. It’s an odd compulsion I’ve been experiencing as of late—the need to understand humans more. Sometimes I’ve found myself wondering what it might be like to seek companionship among the humans. In particular, I’ve found myself longing for a female of my own.
Finding Kiera on the altar feels a bit like fate.
Dare I keep her? Some forest guardians take mates from among the humans. The wind whispers about it from time to time. The wind also whispers that the human mates of forest guardians become as ageless as the guardians themselves.
“How old are you?” I blurt.
“Twenty-four, sir.”
Twenty-four. Gods. So young. So delicate and breakable.
Why do I want to protect her?
I want her to be my sweet little human, my Little girl, and I want to be her guardian.Papa. I want her to call mePapa. I want her to look to me for security and guidance.
“How old are you, Silas?” She utters my name in a soft, imploring tone that makes me want to gather her on my lap and hold her close.
“I am ancient and enduring,” I say. “I’m as old as the forest.” In truth, I don’t know the exact number of years.
“As old as the forest?” She blinks a few times. “So, you’re thousands of years old?”
“Yes.”
“Are you immortal?” Her head tilts to the side as she appraises me. “Are you like a god?”
“I don’t know whether I’m immortal,” I admit. “But all those who’ve tried to kill me have failed.” Only humans and demons have tried to kill me. The animals who inhabit my domain recognize me for what I am, and even the fiercest wildcats and bears have never so much as growled in my direction.
She casts a look around me, and I realize she’s glancing at the door. My ire rises when I suspect she’s contemplating escape.
Mine. The word echoes in my head, and a deep sense of possessiveness for Kiera fills me.
“You’re not going anywhere, little girl,” I tell her in a stern but patient voice.
“But I can’t stay here with you.” She gives me a beseeching look. “I need to get back to Zochal. I have to make sure they don’t hang my brother.”
I growl. “I suppose you must care about him very much if you risked your life to save him. Had an actual demon come across you on the altar, it would’ve ravished you to death.”
She frowns. “He’s my brother. I couldn’t just let him die. Besides, the Elders promised the archers would?—”
“The archers wouldn’t have succeeded in killing a demon.” Unable to resist touching her, I reach for her hair and caress my fingers through her dark locks. “So yes, little girl, you risked your life today.” Why does it make me so angry that she risked her life? Well, assuming the Nameless One really is hiding out in the forest.
I contemplate my threat to punish her if she fails to answer my questions truthfully, and I can’t help but lament her fucking honesty. The idea of anyone else hurting her makes me want togo on a rampage, but the prospect of seeingmymarks on her, particularly during a disciplinary session, is enough to make my breath falter.
“Please let me go, Silas. Please.” A little noise escapes her throat, a whimper she tries to quell. It makes my cock go painfully rigid.
I continue caressing her hair, and gods how I savor the scent of her growing excitement. It would seem my touch has incited her desires further.
I place a finger beneath her chin and force her to hold my gaze. “I’m not letting you go, Kiera. But if you’re very, very obedient, I might be inclined to save your brother.”
Chapter Three