Page 69
Fangs lengthening, I watch the hunt unfold.
The doe is fast, but Rory is faster. I drink in her laughter, delight in her joy as she chases the animal through the trees, dodging and ducking under their limbs. In this moment, her feelings flood into me, and one in the forefront thrums like a pulse—freedom.
She races after the animal until she’s close enough to pounce. Grabbing it with both hands, her eyes meet mine as if she’s seeking approval.
“Fucking perfect,” I murmur, cock aching in my trousers. “Let’s bleed it and fill the jars.”
I bleed the doe in a matter of minutes, filling several jars with delicious, crimson blood. Rory hadn’t felt comfortable enough to take the doe’s life when the thrill of the chase wore off, and I wasn’t going to push it.
Now, Rory sneaks several sips when she thinks I’m not paying attention, as if I’m never not watching her. Anger curdles in my stomach toward her pathetic waste of a father, at his endless cruelty. Taking food from Rory’s plate to feed Vivian, refusing her meals on days she disappointed him, forcing her to purge when her body became too womanly.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she says quietly.
“Because,” I say, running my thumb over her bottom lip and across her jaw as I marvel at her beauty. My mate. I tilt her chin upward. “I would very much like to kiss you, Rory.”
Her breath catches in her throat as her eyes sparkle like the stars beginning to twinkle above us. “Are you asking for my permission?”
“Yes.” I chuckle.
She wets her lips. “You don’t have to ask.”
“Neither do you,” I say, glancing at the jars. “What’s mine is yours.”
She places her palm flat against my chest. “Another vow?”
“Yes. And as you know”—I lower my mouth so it just barely presses against hers—“I prefer to seal my vows with a kiss.”
She collapses against me. Her arms twine around my neck as I deepen the kiss, my tongue parting her mouth and slipping inside to dance with hers. She arches into my every touch, and as my fingers glide across her ribcage, she groans. Her desire is thick in the air, overshadowing the scent of pine and snow. It washes over me as my teeth graze her lower lip.
By the time we stop kissing, night has completely fallen, and so have we. Her cloak is a blanket beneath us as we pull apart and lie backward, gazing at the stars.
“Are you familiar with the constellations?” I ask, propping one arm behind my head.
“Not really.”
“Would you like to hear a story about them?”
She scoots closer to me, her knuckles brushing mine. “I would love nothing more.”
“See the outline there of a rose?” I point to two sets of stars. “With the stem and bloom?”
“Yes,” she says quietly.
“Right beside it is a notched arrow in a bow.” I trace the shape for her. When she murmurs that she sees it, I say, “Legend has it the first fae queen, Rosemarie, fell in love with Archer, a werewolf who’d been her personal guard. Her marriage to the fae king was loveless, duty-bound and nothing more. But the forbidden affair with Archer… Godrick always said it breathed life into his mother. Even as the fae king punished Rosemarie and Archer for their betrayal, Godrick claims she never wavered. They accepted their fate alongside one another.”
The weight of her gaze settles on me. “What happened next?”
“The fae king summoned enough magic from the depths of Faerie to curse his wife and her lover for all eternity. As the magic drained from the land, Rosemarie’s tears flooded the magicless crevices, shifting Faerie from an intact realm into what is now the Fae Isles, broken apart by rivers of tears and bordered by mountains of heartbreak.
“Now, Rosemarie gazes longingly at her archer while he protects her from afar.”
“That,” she says tightly, “is a horrible story, Quill.”
I glance at her. “Godrick used to tell me this story every time we came to Wynterhaven.”
She turns over and props her head up on her fist. “Was this place special to Rosemarie and Archer, then?”
“It was where they’d meet in secret to love one another without shame or fear.”
