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Some of Elwyn’s tension disappeared with his agreement, and the male nodded absently as he turned away and began his search anew again.
“Yes, yes, of course. I will draw up a list once I can find some parchment and a blasted pen. I will have it for you come morning. Fetch it from me first thing before you take your mate to the galley tent.”
Raskyuil gritted his teeth at the imperious orders that demanded he put his mate’s care last. As a newly mated male, he should be spending his days bonding with his mate, not immediately setting out to chase after whatever Elwyn desired.
“I suppose you would like me to go to town tomorrow then,” he growled from between gritted teeth.
Elwyn glanced up again, this time in surprise. “Naturally. This is of the utmost importance for the carnival, after all,” he explained in a slow, coddling voice as if he were speaking to a youngling.
Raskyuil stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide if the aelf had it in him to trap younglings in the fog as prey for some insidious design. The more he tossed the idea around in his head, however, the more certain he became that he couldn’t put anything past the male.
“Very well,” he grumbled. “I will come in the morning—but after the morning meal,” he added with a faint snap of his teeth. He was not going to obediently follow any order that demanded that he neglect caring for his mate.
“Oh, very well,” Elwyn sighed. “I will have the list ready for you then. Oh, and take your mate into town and buy her something pretty,” he added, tossing several coins on the table between them. “It would lend greater credence to your presence out shopping in town with a pretty female by your side.”
Raskyuil’s jaw tightened as he scooped up the coins and nodded. He had not intended to take his mate anywhere near those cursed places, and now it seemed that he had no choice. The carnival’s haunted fog was bad enough, but how would she fare against what else the towns might have hidden within their own mists? The idea of going anywhere near the towns made him feel ill at ease, but to take his mate there—he felt sick. He had to force himself to drop the coins in his pocket and not react when a satisfied smile curled Elwyn’s lips.
The expression was there for only a moment, but it was long enough to sear into Raskyuil’s soul with the depth of cunning and hunger that burned so briefly and so brilliantly in his eyes. Turning away, the aelf flicked his hand toward the door.
“That is all, Raskyuil. You may leave now.”
Bristling at the lofty tone, Raskyuil inclined his head and in a stiff nod and spun away, ducking out of the tent and into a thick pool of fog. He froze, his senses opening wide as he blindly peered around himself. The mist curled in a way that seemed beckoning, and he turned his head and watched it move deeper into the carnival as the fog shifted away from him. He paused there at the entrance of the tent and warily scented the air, searching instinctively for any clue of what might be out there.
A sweet familiar scent slipped deep within him with the bite of a delicious musk, and he trembled with the sort of primal, needy recognition of a newly mated male. His mate was nearby. He could practically smell her cunt from where he stood. His brow slowly lowered in a scowl, and he scented the air again in search of any scents from males. None.
As it should be. But it was still a relief to know that none dared to hunt his mate now that they were bound even if he still couldn’t quite trust any of them.
But what was MaryAnne doing out within the carnival grounds? Why wasn’t she where he left her? A low growl rumbled deep within him as he plunged into the fog, his instincts roaring through him suddenly eager for the hunt denied him. His mate was out there, her musk flaunted and teasing him. He would hunt her, assure himself of her safety, but then… she would squeal so sweetly impaled upon his cock with nothing but the fickle fog to hide their rutting.
ChapterThirty-Four
MaryAnne shivered as she stumbled forward, the circle of lanterns dancing in the fog around her. Had she gotten lost already? By her estimation, she should have already been near the central carnival grounds where the rides and booths waited for nightfall. The fog was not only thick, but it climbed higher than usual so that even the broad, recognizable shapes of the ferris wheel and carousel were obscured entirely. There was nothing but the faint glow muted by the fog that seemed to hang in the air around her.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she scanned the rolling plumes of mist, the layers of soft cotton white bleeding into different hues of gray before giving way to even darker shadows. The pinpricks of light could have been a fairy dance for all she knew, and it was both beautiful and nauseating.
A sound rustled to her left and she jumped, her eyes darting blindly in its direction. Two glowing pinpricks suddenly winked out, and she shrank back. Was that the glimmer of glowing eyes? It reminded her of the luminous gaze of the goblins.
“H-hello?”
The hollow sound of wind answered, and another faint rustling sound came from another direction as if something were slowly circling around her. Or surrounding her. She spun toward it, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Is anyone out there? This isn’t funny!” she shouted.
A faint, echoing giggle pierced the gloom. And then another. They erupted all around her in a cacophony of haunted childlike laughter. MaryAnne’s skin crawled, and she slowly spun in a circle, her eyes flitting among the shadows that seemed to gather and then disperse as if someone had closed in and run away before she could get a look at them. She froze mid-step as the fog compacted and swirled and a spectral shape emerged.
At first it was nothing more than an outline amid thickening fog, but it gradually became more defined. She was able to make out skinny limbs and a cherubic face of a child who looked no more than six. A baby still, and her heart lurched with sadness until he suddenly grinned, and there was a vague impression of his little nose wrinkling. The sound made her blood run cold. She stared at him and took a step back as he continued to materialize until she was staring into the vacant black holes of his eyes as he giggled again in the way children did when the pulled they legs off of a spider or the wings from a fly.
It could mean nothing, but that didn’t give her any comfort when more giggling joined his and she now had the distinct impression of children running around her, darting through the fog. She swallowed nervously and refocused on the specter of the boy and gave him a weak smile. He was still staring at her with those gaping holes where his eyes should be, and yet she knew that he was watching her and could see her with the way his head turned to follow her movement.
“Hello, I’m MaryAnne. What’s your name?”
His mouth moved, opening wide like a dark pit. “MaryAnne,” he repeated in a high giggling voice.
“MaryAnne.”
“MaryAnne.”
“MaryAnne.”
