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“Why are you being weird?” Carnon asked, frowning up at me as we ate our stew in the dining commons, the sun setting maddeningly slowly in the forest around us.
“I’m not being weird,” I argued, trying to stop the nervous bouncing of my legs beneath the table.
“You are,” Carnon said, taking a bite of stew and studying me thoughtfully. “Is it because you’re in love?”
“What?” I snapped, looking down at him in surprise.
He smiled faintly up at me. “You’re in love,” he said with uncanny self-assurance. “With Herne. And he loves you too, right?”
“How do you know that?” I asked, putting down my spoon and turning to face him more fully.
He shrugged, shoveling more stew into his mouth as if we were discussing an interesting pinecone, instead of my love life. “Herne told me.”
“What?” I gaped. “When did Herne tell you that?”
Herne hadn’t even told me he loved me, although I knew he did. No male was that…insatiable with someone he didn’t have strong feelings for.
“When we made your birthday cake,” Carnon said, frowning at me again. “He didn’t tell you?”
“No,” I laughed, reeling over what I was hearing. “My birthday cake? The one from two weeks ago?”
“Yup,” Carnon said, returning to the stew. “He told me he thought he might be your mate, and that he was in love with you, but not to tell you until he told you himself.”
“And what did you say?” I asked, butterflies exploding in my stomach at this news. He knew on my birthday. He knew the day my powers emerged. He knew he loved me then.
“I told him you probably already knew,” Carnon said with another shrug. “And that you’d been in love with him for, like, EVER.” He threw his hands up at this last word, like my love was an explosion. I laughed, choking a little on the emotion threatening to spill out of me into tears.
“And what do you think about all of that?” I asked, clearing my throat so that Carnon wouldn’t hear the quaver in my voice. “About Herne and me being together? Being mated? Are you okay with that?”
Carnon looked at me like I was being crazy. “Of course,” he said, a little frown pinching the skin between his brows. “He’s family.”
Chapter 8
The woods were quiet as I stepped between the trees, my feet bare for agility and stealth. The forest floor was damp and mossy, and I prayed to the Goddess that I wouldn’t misstep and completely ruin the mood by bleeding all over Herne.
A twig snapped behind me and I whirled. He prowled out of the darkness, his yellow eyes shining brightly in the moonlight, his tanned and sculpted body completely on display.
“Really?” I asked, crossing my arms to study him. “No clothes at all?”
“We both know how this will end, Cerridwen,” he growled, his voice edged with something feral tonight that made my heart skitter. He looked me up and down, at the loose clothing I had chosen, knowing he would be tearing it off me before dawn came. “Clothes are an unnecessary encumbrance.”
“It only ends that way if you catch me,” I argued, taking a step backward as he took one toward me.
His eyes flashed in the darkness as a predatory grin curved his lips. “So you agree to the chase?” he asked, taking another step toward me as I retreated once more. This ceremony was a measured dance, a give and a take as a couple navigated the claiming. It was always done this way in the Court of Beasts; a chase culminating in both parties accepting the bond and laying claim to one another’s souls, mated and joined for life.
“I do,” I said, licking my lips which felt suddenly dry, despite the damp evening air. “How much of a head start do I get?”
“About eight more seconds,” he growled, fingers flexing as he held himself back from me.
I gave him a wink and shot into the air, my wings beating furiously to lift me about the treetops. He knew as well as I did that I could only keep myself aloft for about twenty minutes at a time still, and I heard his feral roar as he took off after me. It felt like moonlight danced in my veins as I flew, hard and fast as I could to stretch the chase out before letting Herne catch and claim me as his own.
My mate. My mate. My mate. My heart thumped in time with the beat of my wings and the thought that he would be my mate after tonight, and that I would be his. It was almost enough to send me to the ground early and beg him to take me against the nearest tree.
I faltered, an unexpected gust of wind buffeting me to one side, my shoulders screaming in agony as I strained to right myself. I’d already flown all morning, and my sore body was not cut out for lengthy flying tonight.
I landed in a tree, about ten feet above the forest floor, somewhat concealed behind its leafy branches. I couldn’t see as well as Herne could in the dark, and it was only the gentle rustle of leaves that alerted me to his presence. My breath caught as the great, brown stag filled the little clearing below, his wickedly sharp horns gleaming in the moonlight.
My stag. My mate. My Daemon Lord.
