Page 155

Story: Hunt the Fae

When the satyr pulls back, I can’t disguise the astonishment in my face. Though, Puck only shrugs. “Two reasons. One, you might need it if you ever play another guessing game with Tinder. Two, I still owe you for freeing me nine years ago.”

“But I didn’t do that so you could owe me. And besides, you repaid me in gratitude. When I unlocked the trap, I remember it clearly.” I had freed his leg from the iron jowls, and he’d said,“Thanks, luv.”

“Ah, that,” Puck recalls. “I was being witty, so it doesn’t count.”

I crumble into stunned laughter. Technically, that must be true if he can’t lie. And while he was born with a wonderful name, I like the one he’s chosen better. That’s the satyr whom I’d met, befriended, and shared my heart with.

“Sooooo.” Puck gathers me to him. “You’ve got me by the balls now, huntress. What are you going to do with me?”

Again, I need a moment to reflect on what he’s alluding to. “I don’t need or want power over you. I can simply rescind that, correct?”

“Come now,” he insists. “If you have power over me, you can take power from me. There must be something. Be greedy for once in your misbegotten life.”

“I’ve got what I want.” To illustrate, I wiggle my hips around his waist. He groans, reminding me we’re intimately attached. And, dear Fables, he’s still hard.

After that discovery, it’s a wonder I’m able to articulate my thoughts. “I’m human, and that’s all I need to be. That’s what your world needs to see. They need to see we have our own form of magic.” I gasp as he attacks my throat with enthusiasm, and our restless hands begin to wander once more. “I only want you, for as long as possible.”

Just like that, Puck halts. “Oh, shit.” In a flash, the satyr sits up.

He brings me with him, my thighs flanking his hips. “What?” I breathe.

“For as long as possible,” Puck repeats and then frames my cheeks, inspiration brightening his mien. “So, take that from me.” At my quizzical expression, he rushes out, “Take power from my immortality.”

I freeze, my mind clicking into place. “Do you mean—”

“Take half of my life.”

“Can…I do that?”

His lips slant into a clever grin. “Yes, luv. You can.”

Fables! In the firelight, we stare at one another. If I take half his immortality, we’ll live, what? A prolonged life? Like Lark and Cerulean?

If we do this, I won’t have to leave him bereft, nor Lark. They needn’t endure the grief of outliving me.

He and I can be together. As it is, there’s enough to plague us, enough to worry about for the future. This is one less threat in the fight that lies ahead, one extra blessing in this cabin.

This is happiness. This is us.

“How about it, Juniper?” Puck tempts, setting my hand on his warm, wicked heart. “Want to give it a try?”

My mouth wobbles. “Sure.” Then I clear my throat and rest my palms on his shoulders. “How does it work? I’ve never read anything about it. Is there a ritual? An act to perform?”

Another devious smile. “There is. We cement it by performing an act that expresses your will—that which you desire from me.”

What a sneak. “Such as?”

“I can think of one.” I yelp as Puck rolls me over, his body fitting atop mine, my legs slinging over his waist. “But it’ll take time,” he purrs, those stag antlers illuminated by the flames. “A lot of time.”

I strap myself around him. It’s a good thing I have plenty of that now.

Epilogue

Puck

Fables and fuck. It’s early, on the rumpled edge of dusk. Twilight rustles through the window and tangles itself into the bedroom loft, fondling the sheets with a hybrid of teal and black.

I groan out of sleep and stretch my limbs, already grinning like an asshole. It’s a queer phenomenon to wake up like this, knowing someone takes up valuable space next to me. Body heat. Entwined limbs. Her breath stroking my neck. Her ass tucked against my groin. That adorable scrunch of her brows when she sleeps, like she’s scolding her dreams for not making a damn bit of sense.