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The tension in his shoulders eased as they stepped out of the tent and into the cool night air. He drew in a deep breath that seemed less restrictive outside, despite containing a distinct taint that made his skin crawl. But at least he was outside.
With the exception of his own tent, he disliked being within the confines of the other tents, even the larger ones erected for performances. The drya’s tent was worse than many of the others with its crowded confines and the disconcerting threads of silk webbing everywhere. For a male of his size, stepping inside was its own special misery since he couldn’t seem to move at all within the tent without brushing up against the threads. Straightening once more to his full height, his head craned and swiveled as he took note of their immediate surroundings.
They required sustenance and then they would return to their tent. There was an evil wind in the air that made his muscles knot with tension. The others seemed to have a similar idea as the lights of the carnival gradually extinguished, leaving only those marking the trails back to the galley tent. The scent of food wafted to him, telling him that the orcs had anticipated their needs and had the food laid out and prepared for them before taking their own share and retreating to the security of their family tents.
He didn’t bother looking for them as he strode to the tent. On nights when the carnival kept the rest of the fae busy until late, the orcs never stayed long beyond the first few hours following sundown, leaving the meal out waiting for them.
Raskyuil had never understood it before, but there was something different—or something that he was suddenly noticing—in the air. The fare was simple, and he was grateful that it could all be easily folded into the plain baskets laid out for everyone. He didn’t want both of his hands full, not when he could feel the malevolent tide creeping in closer to him.
His eyes roved through the darkness as he gathered their food, all too aware of his mate fidgeting at his side. She was uneasy too, even if she didn’t as clearly understand why. Not that he could altogether understand the feeling. A curtain of fog wafted up particularly high at the nearest border of the carnival, but everything else seemed to be normal. Still, he trusted his instinct. He hadn’t survived for as long as he had without relying on what nature and the gods had given him.
Tucking the basket under one arm, his hand flexed at his side, and he shivered as a strange feeling slipped over him not unlike the silky skeins of drya silk. He flicked his fingers down one arm in a casual gesture and cursed silently. He swore that he could still feel the webs brushing against his skin and clinging to him even now.
“Everything okay?” MaryAnne looked up at him with an expression of concern, and he gruffly nodded his head.
He was being ridiculous. He was no youngling terrified by the older troll offspring that ran wild through the forest. As was normal for troll offspring, they terrorized him with stories of drya descending from trees at night to capture younglings as prey who ventured too far from the hallows amid the woods where the trolls made their homes. MaryAnne herself was quite small compared to an adult troll, and the thought made him sick as an image of his mate encased in webbing rose unbidden to his mind.
Raskyuil gave his head a sharp shake. This place was getting to him, whispering of things long forgotten. He hadn’t thought of his youth in the hallows in more years than he could recall. Why now when he knew that logically MaryAnne was safe and had scented no deceit or avarice toward his mate from the two females? It was not like him. He had seen much in his long life and had achieved a broader and more informed perspective during that time. Though he was naturally suspicious, he didn’t frighten easily. Certainly not over the old fears of a youngling.
Was this part of the unnatural darkness soaked into the very ground here? The carnival brought an ambivalence of excitement and pleasure, even with its darker atmosphere, but what if someone was sowing fear, turning the minds of people against them so that they sought out the comfort of the carnival. Although such magic would impact fae less than humans, it would account for why there were so many returning night after night when it was rarer near the other town.
Come to think of it, why did the drya stay when Ayla was clearly afraid of Elwyn? Why did any of the fae stay at all for so long? Despite his smile and friendliness, Nathiel was eager to leave. The orcs frequently wore expressions of reluctance and revulsion as they carried out their duties. Even all the other species seemed oddly subdued. The campfires did not come to life at night. The goblins did not carry out their mischief or dance beneath the moon. When not performing, everyone kept huddled near their tents as if that were the only reliable bastion of safety for them. Even now as the torches and lanterns put up for visitors were extinguished, and the rides flickered out and went dark as the magic abandoned them.
There were no sounds of the fae inhabiting the carnival as if they had all gone immediately to ground. He was completely alone as he walked toward his own tent, his skin prickling within the descending weight upon the air. It was as if an unnatural silence was creeping over the grounds, something insidious infecting everything with the rapid extinguishing of the lights. There was something sinister that made him growl as he felt it brush over him and sink into his flesh with a familiarity that let him know it had done so many, many times before, though he had never been aware. Now that he was, however, he could not ignore the way it slipped through him, its touch cool at first as it curled through him, and then heating.
With it came an urgency that had nothing to do with logic, only the primal part of him that insisted that he burrow somewhere safely. He whipped his head around, nostrils flaring in search of the unseen danger. It was there. He felt it with a startling clarity that made his eyes widen as he stared into the darkness. His tail lashed behind him, his growl growing louder in his chest. He scented the air again, and a ravenous hunger struck him as a female’s sweet scent filled his nose. His female.
He panted as he dragged another deep breath in, curling his tongue to taste it better as her scent flooded through him. His cock stiffened, thickening in his trousers as his desire to return to his den joined with his primal desire to breed. As he felt the danger eclipsing the carnival, he was filled with a need to retreat with his female, to hold her within the safe confines of his den where he could mate her and breed her, where none would dare to take her from him.
Hand clamping on his mate’s arm, he pulled her with him down the path, eager to reach his tent. He could see it against the shadows. They would be there soon and then he would have his female to himself. Entirely to himself. He had been patient long enough and she desired to mate. He could smell it faintly in her musk as he crowded close to her. He would no longer sleep on the floor like a dog. He would claim everything now. Only then would things be right.
He blinked his eyes rapidly. His mate would be safe within the carnival once they were mated. The carnival would fall around them like a veil keeping them safe from the threat that lurked within the night. Why had he considered this a bad thing? The carnival protected them all. Why should any of them want to leave?
He herded his mate toward the opening of his tent, and her head turned frequently as she looked back at him, her expression curious and worried. She wouldn’t have to worry for long. They just needed to get inside their dwelling and all would be well—the magic of the carnival encircled the tent. He was certain that he could see it.
Impatience flared to life within him as he squinted down at his mate. She was moving slower, more reluctantly despite his urging. He bared his teeth and his restraint snapped as he suddenly lunged and swept his female with one arm, holding her firmly against him. A startled cry left her that drove into his heart painfully, but even that was dulled with the fervor of instinct flooding through him.
He had to do this to protect her. She had acknowledged it too. This was necessary.
His strides lengthened, his pace quickening into a ground-eating run. His cock strained eagerly with what needed to be done as he crossed the remaining distance to their tent and plunged into the cool darkness. There were no fires lit within it yet, but it was well. The carnival was protecting them, shielding them while he claimed his mate. It would keep them safe, and then she would be safe ever after.
His eyes raked over her hungrily in the dark as he set her on her feet in front of his bed and absently dropped the basket on the table beside it. Food smells rose from it, and the linen shifted and fell open, but the scent of his mate was far more appetizing and stirred his hunger far greater. She was so soft and lush, so delicate and fragile. So vulnerable. She needed what he had to give her. She needed his gift, his seed to mark her so that all would know, and then she would have his protection and remain within the shelter of the carnival with him.
Of course they would remain. He just needed to rut her, breed her, fill her with younglings of her own, and she would forget. They would be safe there. They would be happy there, hidden from the dangers of the world around them.
Claws gripped her tunic, dragging it off of her, and a startled cry left his female even as the potent scent of her desire heightened. Her hands felt along his flesh blindly as he grabbed hold of her trousers, his claws sliding over the tough material. She jumped and jerked away, but he held fast, and he felt her tremble for a moment before her hands resumed their search to finally come to rest against his face where they smoothed against his cheeks and jaw so gently that he paused to lean into her touch. His eyes fluttered closed as she continued to stroke his face.
“Raskyuil, this is scaring me. What’s going on? Come on. Please tell me.”
Her words cut through him like a sharp cold slicing through the fever burning within him. He blinked as some of the jumbled confusion of his heightened instinct retreated, leaving him feeling raw but also primed and engorged with the need to mate.
“I need you,” he rasped, his voice breaking faintly under the tension that suddenly crawled through him. She was reason and sanity in the maelstrom of instinct that took hold of him. “I need you, MaryAnne,” he repeated thickly with a growl.
Night blind, she stared back in his vicinity, and her head bobbed in agreement. “You have me,” she whispered.
With a groan, he kicked off his boots and freed his cock as he yanked his trousers down his legs and kicked them away as well. Free of the confines of his clothes, he pulled away her remaining clothing and lifted her up against him, his nose burrowing into her neck. He breathed her in, and his cock jumped against her soft belly where it was firmly pressed between them.
He had her. And she had him.
