Page 70 of A Thief Among Fae

Make the laughter stop.

Chapter 21

Tears well in my eyes, but giggle after giggle shakes my chest. My hands tremble, slipping off the horse’s muzzle. The words that tumble out of me don’t make any sense. Am I asking for more bread and jam, or am I begging for mercy?

Auri grabs my waist. She spins me. My feet flow into it, my arms flying out as the cave whirls and twirls, a kaleidoscope of shadows and light and color. “Stop it!” I scream, fighting the glamour with all my willpower. My stumbling feet slow, and I stagger toward the hint of sky and trees marking the cave entrance. “Let me go,” I plead, the entrance swinging back and forth like a pendulum with every step. I’m almost there.

“She’s not okay,” someone says. I think it’s Finnian. I can’t distinguish their voices anymore. “We need to take her back.”

“She’s fine,” someone dismissively argues.

A tall shadow appears at the cave entrance. It’s a troll! I have to run. My feet trip over themselves as I turn away, and I fall. My arms splay out, but I’m too dizzy to catch myself. The stone floor rushes toward me.

Fingers dig into my shoulders. I’m held, then lowered until I’m sitting. “What did you do?” a low voice demands. “Enchanted blackberries? You knew how her body would handle them!”

The fae male recoils as if slapped. He shifts his weight like he wants to step forward and say something, but when his lips part, no sound comes out. His gloved hands clench into fists.

I lean back, trying to see who’s behind me, but my head bumps into their legs. I’m too disoriented to stand.

“There’s a bowl of salt ready in the kitchen,” the other fae says, a feminine voice that slides down my spine like ice. Her blurry form undulates, but her swaying braids drag my gaze as she tosses them over her shoulder. “You really think I’d let her die, knowing she’s vowed to you?”

“I don’t know what to think besides how disappointed I am in you. Stay away from her,” the person behind me says with the harsh edge of a threat.

I’m picked up before I can protest. Shadow turns to light as I’m carried out of the cave over someone’s shoulder. “I can walk!” I pound my fists against their back. “I feel fine!”

“You are not fine.” The voice is gruff and male. “You’re intoxicated from fruit that only fae can stomach. For a human of your weight, one spoonful of jam is like chugging six mugs of amber ale. It’s amazing that you haven’t lost consciousness yet.”

“Oo, that’s a lot.” I hiccup. “She told me to eat it, you know.” My head lolls against the stranger’s back as he enters the hideout. His shoulders are firm, solid beneath my fisted hands. I give up on hitting him, and my arms dangle down, brushing against his ass. It looks like a nice ass. I decide to squeeze it.

The stranger tenses beneath me. “Keep your hands to yourself,” he snaps, an undertone of panic making the words sound uncertain.

“But it’s so firm.” I spread my fingers to cup it and squeeze again. Firm, but not flat. Definitely the sort of ass I’d stare at if I walked behind him. “See?”

My kidnapper inhales a ragged, strained breath and then swears in another language.

“Relax,” I whine. “Being uptight will knot your muscles up. Can I touch your muscles?” I reach around his body to grasp his arm. He’s dressed in short sleeves, and the strong ridges and veins are a delight to run my fingers across.

He shudders and lets out a breathy, “No. Bad human.”

I giggle. “I can be a bad girl if you want.”

“For the love of Danu, Cynthia,” my kidnapper hisses. “You’ll be the death of me.”

That stuns me, and I fall silent.

We’re in the kitchen, and then not in the kitchen. He’s carrying me through the forest, the moonlit trees leaning over us. Crickets chirp a merry jig that my feet long to follow.

“Put me down!” I whine. “I want to dance!”

My kidnapper slides me off his shoulder and into his arms. He gently sets me down in the grass, then kneels in front of me. I giggle as I look up at the stars, then at the dewy grass beneath us. Running my fingers through the soft verdant blades, I smile.

Then the man grabs my jaw and forces my mouth open. He pushes a spoon of salt toward my tongue.

I jerk away and knock the spoon from the stranger’s hand. He scowls as he reaches for it, but I grab his face and tilt it toward me. “You’re handsome.” His features are less distorted now that I’m sitting. Yes, he’s definitely attractive. The sharp jawline I run my fingers along is rough from stubble, and the lips I brush my thumb over are soft and full.

His breath hitches. “Stop that,” he murmurs.

He’s still as stone as I trace his bottom lip, then up the straight bridge of his nose. My other hand follows his sharp jaw until I feel the warmth of the back of his neck.