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He let out a garbled cry, then leaped toward us, landing in a crouch at my feet. He reached out to touch my feet, and I cautiously let him, trying to avoid being poked by the tips of his antlers. Delilah poised to put a stop to him if he attacked.
“Aeval—Aeval . . .” His voice was guttural, and I could barely understand what he was saying, but I knew he’d called me by the Dark Queen’s name.
“No. I am not Aeval,” I started to say, but stopped as Delilah fervently shook her head. I paused, realizing he hadn’t understood me. Or if he had, he showed no sign of it.
“Aeval . . . Q’n da dir.” And then he snorted, like an animal, and stood to face me, his eyes luminous and glimmering and crafty. He reached out and placed his hand on my wrist, and slowly began to slide his fingers up my arm.
Nervous now, not sure what he was getting at, I glanced over at Delilah. He might seem young, but that was illusion. And he looked far stronger than me. As I waited, poised to go on the defense, he leaned close and sniffed long and hard at my neck. As he neared my skin, I reared back; I could feel the gnashing of his teeth right behind those closed, full lips.
His eyes turned bloodred, and he let out a loud screech and began to dance around me. I jumped over to Delilah’s side.
“What the fuck?” She held up her knife and he stopped, sniffing in the blade’s general direction. With a snarl, he shifted from one foot to the other.
“I don’t know. I told you, the things in here are not human. The Elder Fae are as far from our people as we are from . . . well . . . the people of Aladril. Who knows what thousands of years has done to them?”
Antler-Boy was gnashing his teeth now, dancing from foot to foot, glaring at the knife. He knew what iron was, that much was obvious, and it didn’t make him happy.
“I have no clue what he wants,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.
Delilah lunged forward, waving the blade at him. He dodged to the side, quick as a cat. She countered, and he took another couple steps back. “I sense Chase is in the general area, but I don’t know quite where. We can’t just leave.”
“This one would follow us anyway. It’s obvious he’s latched onto us for some reason. And I don’t trust him. He may have the antlers of a deer or elk, but he’s got something behind that mouth—I keep sensing nasty teeth waiting to rip me to shreds.”
I gazed into his eyes and once again fell into his beauty. Beauty? No, it was more of a glamour. “He’s trying to charm me.” I turned on my own, lowering my masks so my Fae heritage shone forth.
He blinked, rearing back. “Aeval? Heh . . .” And then the shifting movements began again, as if he were dancing to a hidden beat, or—like a shark—couldn’t stay still.
“He seems to be fixated on you as Aeval,” Delilah said, cocking her head to one side. “As if he thinks only Aeval could have glamour?”
“Maybe Aeval is the only woman he’s seen?” I motioned to her. “Let down your glamour. See what he does.”
And so Delilah unmasked herself, too. And Antler-Boy gazed from her face to mine, back to hers, looking disconcerted. He backed away another step, looking less certain.
Growing weary of this, I decided we should teach him a lesson. I had no reason to kill him, but maybe a light thrashing would take care of matters. I shook off some of the Moon Mother’s energy, shifting what was left into a pale ball between my fingers. Antler-Boy watched, suspiciously, as I gazed up into his eyes, slowly smiled, then sent the spell spinning at him.
I didn’t aim it to kill, but merely to glance off one shoulder.
He watched it approach, without trying to duck. When it lashed into his arm, striking with a force strong enough to knock him down but—I hoped—not leave lasting damage, he let out a scream and scrambled to his feet.
I motioned away, like I was shooing a cat. “Go—get out of here. Leave us alone!”
But at that moment, a loud rumble echoed through the woods. I jumped back, ignoring the odd Fae.
Through the forest, from deep in the dark wilds, the sound of thunder echoed with each footstep. Something huge was coming our way. Something ancient, older than time, was striding through the woods like we might walk through a garden. The scent of musk washed through the air—of primal male energy, strong and erect and dark.
We began to back away, but there was nowhere to run.
I glanced at Antler-Boy. A smug look crossed his face and he stuck his tongue out at me. I did not return the taunt but instead focused on keeping my wits about me. Whatever was coming our way was nothing to mess with.
And then, in a crash of lightning and the scent of heavy forest rain, out stepped a being who towered over the trees. Tall he was, with skin the color of moss. Spiraling horns rose into the sky, black as night, and his chest was matted with thick hair. His legs were shaggy and goatlike. A satyr, with hooves sparking fire every step they took. His arms were muscled and his face lined, and his cock and balls hung so heavy that they might be boulders in their own right.
“Herne.” I whispered his name as I fell to my knees, unable to wrest my gaze away.
Herne . . . Lord of the Woodland. Herne. Lord of the Rut. Lord of the Vine. King Stag of the World. Lord of the Wild.
His eyes burned red, piercing my soul. Here was the consort of the Huntress—to the Moon Mother. Here was the god that roamed the night, reminding people why they could never conquer nature.
Catching my breath, I pressed my hands to my eyes. “Lord of the Night . . . ,” I whispered, bending over to touch my forehead to the ground.
