Page 11 of WitchCurse
“With the top?” I wondered. How often would he bare his flesh for others to see?
“While it’s cold, yes. But it’s not yet March. When the air warms again the style has a lot less layers. Males are allowed to be topless in summer.”
I gaped. “Indecent.” I thought of the tease of the opening around his neck. Revealing all that, or more? “Can we get more formal attire?” The tunics of old covered much more, and Nick garnered a lot of attention without trying. Adding bared flesh to his allure would not keep others from coveting him. “I forbid you from practicing this topless thing.”
“Forbid me?” Nick gave me that little chuckle again. He leaned in close, near enough to kiss. I swallowed hard and clamped down on my shields, trying to keep still. “Are we planning a ball? They don’t sell more formal wear here, or tunics. We would stand out a lot if we wore tunics in this country. It’s not common wear,” he said. He brushed his fingers over my face as if searching for something. “Let’s try on more things.”
“You can try, and I can observe?” I asked, the process tedious.
“You need stuff that fits more than I do. Let me choose a few things for you to try and then we can go.” He cupped my cheek in his large palm, his touch hot on my chilled flesh. How had that tiny, pretty boy become such a male of worth? It couldn’t have been my influence alone, though he hadn’t had anyone else.
“Whatever you wish,” I agreed.
He gave me that radiant smile again. “Good. I’m more concerned about colors, since we have your fit down.”
The words sounded foreign as the meaning was lost on me. Colors? Like my normal dark gray flesh? I could change it to the pale of the glamour, match his golden tones, or even that of the fox who bordered on brown. Which did he prefer?
Nick flicked the lock of the door, removing the chance of anyone coming in. “Can you turn the glamour off?”
I frowned, but released the shield, rewarded with the dark thing I’d become long ago reflecting back in the mirrors. At least the rot didn’t show while dressed like this. Feeding from the fox and the alpha had pulled most of the blight from my face and neck, the skin there more brown than pale. A reminder of my dark origins?
I turned away from the reflection. Nick didn’t comment, simply asked for a few clothing changes, let his gaze linger over each for a few moments, before changing to the next. I didn’t voice any opinions as none of it mattered to me except how happy he might be when I dressed whatever way he wished.
When we finally finished, Nick had sorted stacks of things, and my glamour was back in place. We left the little hall, Dylan helping with the piles, bringing some to the counter and adding others to a cart to be put back on the shelves. It took a few trips to gather it all.
A bell from the front dinged as someone came in. The shopkeeper’s voice echoed a hello and a pause as though in awe. Dylan hesitated as we exited the hall, his wolf hackles going up as though ready for an attack. Nick took a step in front of me, as if a mortal could defend me from an attack better than I could myself. Even half eaten away by fae rot I would be a hundred times more powerful than him. But the scent wafting from the doorway told me we were facing not some other wolf or even a random vampire, but a pureblood fae.
I peered around my scion to find the looming presence of a male in the doorway. Tall in stature, nearly a half foot over my own, he was beautiful, with dark hair and luminescent pale skin. Glamour strongly fitted to add a similar style to the clothing we were sampling today, but I knew him in a thousand forms and types of dress. Minus the horns, he appeared no less intimidating, even if the very weight of my hunger raged at the power of his magic. He’d be a feast. One I’d gorged on before, only to have the energy stolen, drained from me and cast into punishment for daring to feed on a pureblood.
“Zephyr,” I said. I had been wrong about being able to protect my scion, my power weakened, and even fighting beside the wolf dominant, it wouldn’t be enough, not against a high court sidhe.
“Old fox. I thought I scented your decay nearby,” Zephyr’s deep voice echoed through the space. “With a mortal and a dog, no less. Your predilection for poor company hasn’t changed.”
CHAPTER4
Kiran
“How can I help you, sir?” The shopkeeper interrupted. The human’s gaze lingered for a long time over the well-formed male who was a sidhe lord of the highest rank.
Zephyr’s glower rested on me, ignoring the keeper completely.
“Did you need something?” Dylan asked, sounding irritated.
“Simply following my nose, dog. Curious about the rot I caught on the wind. That fox is of little use to me.” Zephyr waved a hand in my direction.
“That fox is under the protection of my alpha and Sebastian, the fox you’ve been courting,” Dylan said.
“Is it a predilection of foxes to tarry with those beneath them?” Zephyr asked. His focus remained on me, uninterested in any of the mortal creatures in the room, they were insects to him. I was food. “A sign of their half-breed status?”
That word seemed to do something to the shopkeeper as he snapped his gaze away from the fae lord and went to the door, holding it open. “I will have to ask you to leave, sir.”
The fae lord looked down at him, assessing, and I could feel the weight of his magic expanding outward, ready to ensnare the human and likely overwhelm the poor mortal’s mind. I responded in kind, using my minimal reserves of magic, gifted to me from Seb’s enchanted food, to form a shield around all the mortals in the room. Zephyr’s magic slid right off, a flicker of lights the only sign of the battle of wills. The mortals would never see the waves of power, though the wolf seemed to feel it as he shivered. Nick kept his hand locked firmly in mine, feeding me strength he didn’t really have to offer.
Zephyr turned to glare at me, gaze like daggers. Had he ever looked at me with kindness and affection, or had it always been that scowl of aloofness? Perhaps my memories were not as clear as I thought. Had he believed me powerless? Lesser fae didn’t hold strength like I did, to defend those around me, even if that might was waning most days. He could look down on me all he wished; I had never really beenlesser. Even dying, there was sidhe blood in my veins.
A man entered the shop, stepping past the keeper, and taking a place beside Zephyr. He was not as tall or dark. Blond and pretty, was the new male, and smelled of…prey? I caught a glimpse of the outline of magic around him.
The Stag. Interesting. More fae had escaped to this world than I had originally thought. A puck, a lord, and now the Stag? Underhill had been stripped of its finest meals; its collapse inevitable.
