Page 21

21

“Finding one’s mate takes patience and perseverance.”

A Seelie Guide to Matrimony

R eaching for my stockinged feet, I feel the muscles at the backs of my thighs pull tight. I may have overdone it on my walk today. Traversing the quiet fields gave me some semblance of peace, and by the time I returned home, I no longer wanted to scream at anyone, which is quite an improvement compared to yesterday.

Nia invited me to the theater with herself and Nolan, but I chose to stay in. She chided me, saying I wouldn’t find a husband in the cottage, but at the moment, I’m not sure I even want one.

From the corner of my eye, I catch a flicker of movement outside my window.

Probably a bird or a bat, although it’s too dark on this moonless night to know for certain. When the thing moves again, I sit up, realizing too late that it’s far too large to be a bird. My heart begins to pound unsteadily as I inch forward.

What if it’s a bandit? Or a murderer?

Oh, no…

What if it’s Ronan?

My stomach twists as I slowly slip from beneath my covers and back toward the door. I’ll just go across the hall and wake my uncle. He’ll take care of whoever is?—

My footsteps still. The shape is far too large to be Ronan, and when the person raps against the window, I’m pretty sure the skin of his hand is green .

Everett ?

What in heaven’s name is he doing here?

And why do the traitorous butterflies in my stomach choose this exact moment to wake up?

I whip my rose-printed silk robe from the back of the chair, throwing it on over my shift and bloomers before sneaking back over to the window to where Everett crouches on the roof, gripping the sill with both hands. I have to move the vase of flowers aside so I can unlatch the window and push it open a fraction.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss through the gap.

His dark eyes flit down to my robe before settling back on my face. “I have come to tell you that I am sorry.” From his pocket, he withdraws a new silver flower, the stem longer than any of the others he’s left at my door.

Why? I want to scream.

Why is he here?

Why didn’t he just leave the flower and go away like every other night?

Why is he bringing me flowers at all?

“What do you want in return?”

Everett draws back as if I’d struck him, his gaze downcast and face solemn.

“Go on. I’ve been told the Unseelie are not kind, so why would you bring this to my window unless you’re looking for something?”

“It is true. I am looking for something.”

His quiet confession douses the fire in my chest. “You…you are?”

A nod. “I would like your forgiveness.”

Right. Of course. That makes the most sense. What else could he possibly want from me?

“There is no excuse for the disrespect I showed you,” he goes on. “I am ashamed to have spoken such horrible things aloud. I do not expect you to forgive me, but I need you to know that I did not mean a word of it. You are…different from the others.”

As far as sincere apologies go, that was a pretty good one. I suppose I can give him one more chance, depending on how he answers my next question. “How am I different?”

His gaze locks with mine, unwavering in their intensity. “You intrigue me.”

Definitely not the response I was expecting. Apparently, the butterflies in my stomach approve.

Is it possible that Everett feels the same pull toward me that I feel toward him? There’s only one way to find out. “Would you like to come in?”

His eyes widen, and if I didn’t know better, I would say he looks terrified. “You can’t very well stay out there; you’re liable to fall straight through the thatch.” How would I explain a giant hole in the roof to my aunt and uncle?

This really is the most practical solution.

Everett’s long fingers wrap around the window frame, and he pulls the glass wide enough for him to duck through. The space that had felt so large only a moment ago suddenly feels too tight. He hunches so that he doesn’t knock himself out on the wooden beams overhead.

He turns in a slow circle, seeming to take everything in, from the plants on the wall to the wardrobe stuffed with all the dresses from Madame Ella.

Facing me once more, he slides his hands down his thighs before folding his arms behind him like he did at the well. “I waited for you at the bridge, but you did not come back.”

“Because you were rude to me.”

“I was. I let my frustration speak words my heart did not mean.”

Such a simple, beautiful confession.

It’s a good thing he’s not Seelie; otherwise, I would be quite taken with him.

The floorboards creak as he shifts his weight. “In truth, I find your presence distressing.”

That wipes the smile from my face, but he’s too busy focusing on the floorboards between us to notice. If my presence causes him stress, then why is he here?

Quietly, he adds, “When I look at your face, my mind gets lost.”

That might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.

“You smell like honeysuckle. I find the scent overwhelming.”

Well, that’s embarrassing. I guess I’m so used to the smell of my shampoo that I don’t even notice it anymore. “I can open the window to let in some fresh air?—”

His brow furrows. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you called my ‘scent’ overwhelming.”

“You misunderstand. I like filling my lungs with you.”

That probably wasn’t meant to be erotic, but heavens, it makes my knees go weak. I sink onto the edge of my bed to keep from collapsing in a heap of hormones.

His head tilts as he watches me. “Your face is pink.”

How can he see when it’s so bloomin’ dark in here? “I’m too warm.”

He rushes for the window, throwing it open, and fanning the cool night air toward me. It’s all so ridiculous, I can’t help but laugh.

His hands fall and he watches me with an unreadable expression.

“What?”

“Your laughter pleases my ears and makes my cock stir.”

Oh. My. Heavens. “Everett! You cannot say such things to me!”

His head tilts. “Why not?”

“Because it’s inappropriate!” Do they not learn proper manners on the other side of The Divide? You cannot just come right out and tell someone they make you… stir.

“I am going to kill Gryffin,” he mutters under his breath, carding a hand through his midnight hair. “He told me that I should share how I feel with you instead of keeping it all in. Now I have said too much.”

I doubt this Gryffin fellow meant for Everett to take his advice quite so literally. I also doubt I will ever recover from hearing him say the word… cock.

The poor man looks mortified, which makes me feel guilty for laughing. He clearly didn’t know any better.

Would he be as forward with an Unseelie woman?

Would she like it?

“It’s all right. I…um…appreciate your honesty.” Compared to Ronan, this man is a breath of fresh air. “But moving forward, perhaps you should keep any stirrings to yourself.”

He turns back toward the window. “I think I should return to the bridge.”

He probably should, but I don’t want him to. Perhaps it’s time I take a page out of Everett’s book and let him know how I feel. “I would rather you stay.”

He twists slowly.

“You…intrigue me too.”

He smiles the first real smile I’ve seen since we met.

Which gives me an unobstructed view of his teeth.

Teeth that aren’t flat like mine, but sharp points that gleam white as bone in the darkness. A vicious predator. A beautiful nightmare.

Although his lips cover his teeth once more, the memory will stay with me forever. I’m not sure if I’m more intrigued or horrified. Perhaps it’s split down the middle.

“Do you spend every night guarding the bridge from us?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t hear the tremble in my voice.

He folds his hands behind his back once more. “We do not guard from the Seelie. We are tasked with keeping what lurks in the forests from crossing our bridge.”

Their bridge? For some reason, I had assumed the bridge was ours. “What lurks in the forests?”

“Wolves, mostly.”

I raise a brow. “Mostly?”

His mammoth shoulders lift and lower in a shrug. “Mostly.”

I remember tales of wolves once roaming our land, but assumed they were only stories to keep children in line. After all, it’s hard to imagine a beast large enough to eat one’s grandmother whole. “Have you seen one before?”

His eyes darken. “I have.”

“And?”

“And you should be thankful they do not live on your side of the canyon.”

First thing tomorrow, I am going straight to the library to find any information I can about the wolves and any other animals living in Everett’s territory. To think, he and his people are out there, night after night, protecting us from danger.

Do the citizens of Rosehill realize the role these people they’re so afraid of play in their safety? “That’s awfully kind of you, watching out for us.”

His lips flatten. “It is part of the agreement. We protect you in exchange for access to your well.”

So that’s why they’re allowed to use the well. No wonder he assumed I wanted something in return for the biscuits. “What happened to your wells?”

“We have none.”

Meaning they’re wholly reliant on our goodwill.

A well should be for everyone, regardless of where they’re from, but they can only use it in exchange for putting their own lives at risk. “Who protects you?”

His hand goes straight to the handle of his dagger. “I can protect myself.”

That may be so, but it doesn’t seem fair that they should have to live in constant fear just to survive. Meanwhile, right across the bridge, the rest of us walk around blissfully unaware of danger.

“May I see your dagger?”

He withdraws the weapon from its sheath and flips it over, catching the blade at the tip and offering me the handle. My fingers wrap around the worn wood, but when my thumb smooths along the bubbled section at the end, I realize it’s not wood at all.

It’s bone.

The dagger is lighter than I thought it’d be—not that I have much experience handling weapons. The only knives I’m familiar with are the ones that spread butter or slice pie. This one looks wickedly sharp.

Still, it’s a wonder he needs another weapon with those teeth…

“Have you killed with this?”

His head tilts, sending a lock of hair falling across his brow. The piercings in his ears glimmer despite the darkness. “How else am I supposed to eat?”

He says it so simply, as if he can think of no other alternative. Perhaps he doesn’t know any better. “I don’t kill for my food.”

The way his nose wrinkles makes me chuckle. “Vegetables taste like dirt.”

“Only if you don’t wash them.” I picture Everett hauling a carrot from the ground and taking a big old bite. Another laugh bubbles forth, and he raises a skeptical brow. There’s only one way to settle this. “You wait here, and I’ll be right back.”

I tiptoe out of my room, careful to close the door behind me in case Nia wakes up to use the bathing room. Downstairs in the kitchen, I find a bowl of leftover tomato soup in the ice box. The dish won’t be as nice cold, but I cannot be caught heating it at this hour, nor do I want to take the time.

When I get back to my room, Everett is sitting cross-legged on my floor. “Here.” I extend the bowl and spoon toward him.

He takes both, staring down at the reddish liquid with a grimace. “Why are you giving me this gift?”

“It’s not a gift, Everett. I want you to try my food. The soup is meant to be served warm, but I don’t think my aunt or uncle would appreciate me cooking at three o’clock in the morning.”

He dips the spoon in and out, letting the liquid splash back into the bowl, watching like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “So this house is not yours?”

“No. My brother and I grew up in the mountains.” I nod toward the bowl. “Are you going to try it or keep playing with it?”

He scoops some up and takes a slurping sip.

“Well?”

His lips smack as he makes a face. “Not the worst food I have tasted.”

I can’t help but laugh when he hands back the bowl. I take a bite and decide the next time I want him to try something, it simply must be at the correct temperature. Setting the bowl on my dressing table, I sit, not on the bed, but on the floor with Everett, my back braced against the brass footboard. “Do you have a family?”

“No, I was born of shadows and darkness,” he deadpans.

Nia told me the exact same thing that first Wednesday we snuck out, except when she said it, she was serious. “Funny.” I’m not sure why, but I didn’t expect him to have a sense of humor. “How old are you?”

“Thirty. How old are you?”

“I’ll be twenty-five on the fourteenth of May.”

For some reason, that makes him frown. “You have come to Rosehill for a mate, then?”

“I have.” Although right now, the thought of choosing one makes my stomach churn. Or maybe that was the cold soup. “Is it the same in your kingdom?”

He offers no more than a nod, his dark gaze boring into mine.

My mouth suddenly feels too dry. When my tongue swipes across my lips, I swear his eyes follow the movement. “Do you belong to someone, then?”

His head shakes slowly. “Not yet.”

Why has no one chosen him? He is handsome, strong, and funny. Perhaps he, like my brother, has been fending off proposals for years and hasn’t wanted to settle down. What is he waiting for? Or does he simply have no interest in marriage?

“Do you…belong to someone?” he asks.

“I’ve been seeing a few men, but I’m not sure they’re going to work out.”

“Why not?”

Where do I even begin? “One is a liar and the other doesn’t seem very interested.”

“They are fools.”

Nothing like coming right out and saying it. “I think you might be right.” At least someone else agrees.

“I am. Any male would be lucky to have your attention.”

Heat climbs my throat, and I know I’m staring but how can I not? Does he really think that or is he just trying to make me feel less miserable?

Everett stands suddenly. “I must go.”

I scramble to my feet, still searching for my voice. He’s not even gone yet and already I feel lonely. “Will you come back tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow is my shift to guard the bridge.”

Disappointment falls over me like a cool spring rain.

Until I realize that there is nothing to keep me from going to him. “Perhaps I will come to you then.”

“You should not be wandering alone at night.”

“I won’t be alone, Everett. I’ll be with you.”