Page 2 of Tempting the Fae Lord (The Gatekeeper’s Weakness)

Chapter Two

Gale

“Nature calls.” I excuse myself from the game, prompting a whine and narrowed gaze from Amaris.

“You promised.” She pouts.

“I’ll only be gone a moment. Then you may continue mopping the board with me.”

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Fine, but hurry.”

Carefully, I follow Chester and the Gatekeeper, sneaking on light feet through the wide hallway. Should I be nosy and spy on them? No. Will my curiosity get the better of me someday? Probably. Am I already halfway to the study to peek through the keyhole? Yes.

I crouch, close one eye, squint the other, and peep through the tiny opening. Chester is seated in a brown leather armchair. He looks relaxed and unbothered by what’s about to happen.

The Gatekeeper stands at his side. “Are you well?”

Chester huffs a laugh, unbuttoning the cuff of his sleeve. “As well as this old man gets these days.”

“If you are in pain, let me help.” Gracefully, he kneels and rests a hand on Chester’s knee.

Chester shakes his head. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You needn’t handle any. A small drop of my blood will go a long way.”

“Thank you.” Chester pats the Gatekeeper’s hand. “But no.”

“If you change your mind, you’ll say the word, hmm?”

“I will.” He offers his left arm.

With gentle hands, the Gatekeeper tilts Chester’s wrist just so. He darts his tongue out and wets his lips, which he then draws back to reveal the twin daggers of his fangs.

I shiver.

He bites.

Chester doesn’t flinch. Utters no sound. Just closes his eyes and continues breathing as if this were a totally ordinary thing to be doing.

I suppose for them, it is.

The Gatekeeper’s throat bobs as he swallows. Not even the tiniest drop of scarlet spills from the seam of his lips.

It’s not how I imagined. Not that I spend a lot of time imagining this experience, except that I do, and I thought it would be more… physical. Intimate. More vulnerable or perhaps tender. Instead, it’s rather detached and matter-of-fact.

Even so, my chest heats watching. My heartbeat quickens. A breath lodges in my throat.

I want to take Chester’s place. To feel what he’s feeling. To be the sole focus of the Gatekeeper’s attention. To finally know what it’s like to feed him with my blood.

I think of the grumpy man in the village—whatever his name is—and wonder why this act that I yearn for is so repulsive to him.

How could he hate the Gatekeeper when the man is obviously careful and protective of those who serve him?

How could anyone hate a man like that? A man—a vampire—who looks after his flock with such devotion.

My earliest memory is of the Gatekeeper rescuing me from the jaws of a hungry wolf.

I was younger than Amaris, maybe four or five years old, all bundled up for play in the snow.

A woman whose face I can’t recall was supposed to be looking after me.

I’ve been told her name was Hannah, but I don’t really remember her.

I do remember tumbling through a sea of snow drifts in search of red berries.

How pretty they would look against the glittery white snow. How I could squish them and make a riot of red streaks, draw clumsy pictures with mittened hands.

Birds tweedled their warnings, but I paid no heed, trudging along toward the forest, intent on my plan with the kind of tenacity only small children possess. Berries on snow, berries on snow, berries on snow.

I reached my goal, plucked handfuls of berries, and squashed them between my thumb and forefinger. But the result wasn’t as good as I’d imagined. The insides of the berries were a watery brown, paling in comparison to the vibrant red of the outer skin. They could barely stain the snow at all.

My pictures were a failure, but I wouldn’t be deterred. Onto the next bush and the next, farther into the forest wherever curiosity led. And curiosity I’ve always had in abundance.

Until I was slammed sideways and the weight of a thousand stones crushed my neck.

I couldn’t fight. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t breathe.

Panic sizzled my veins.

With sticky hands, I grabbed fistfuls of thick fur to no avail. I’d never known such fear. Such pain. Though my throat was crushed, my mind cried out to the Gatekeeper for help.

And as the world faded to black, he came.

The wolf bellowed a pained yowl. The pressure around my neck let up. I gasped for air, dragging it into my lungs greedily.

A new, softer pressure replaced the wolf’s as I was held to the Gatekeeper’s cool chest. I dug my face into his shirt, tears and snot making a mess of him, but he only clutched me tighter.

My memory becomes cloudy here. Maybe I was unconscious, maybe delirious, maybe too young to retain it all; I don’t know.

But when I woke, chaos swirled around me. I was inside, and a crowd had formed of which I was the center. As my panic faded, theirs multiplied.

How far into the woods?

A wolf?

Is he bitten?

They ripped off my scarf, then my clothes. Hands and eyes inspected every inch of my skin. Eulayla was there, tending me.

Unharmed.

Not a scratch.

How is that possible?

I had a death grip on the hand in mine. The Gatekeeper’s hand. When I squeezed, he squeezed back. We locked eyes. His dark gaze soothed me.

“Naughty,” he mouthed and subtly shook his head at me, but he didn’t look angry. He looked relieved.

I never saw Hannah again.

Through the keyhole, the Gatekeeper finishes his meal. He licks Chester’s bloodied wrist, and my gaze follows his tongue until it disappears back into his mouth.

His voice comes low and sated. “Apologies, Chester, dear, but I’ve an urgent matter to attend to. Do you mind if I leave you alone?”

“Not at all,” says Chester sleepily.

The Gatekeeper shoots me a piercing glare, and I gulp.

How did he know? I’ve been silent as a shadow this whole time.

He turns back to Chester. “You’re all right?”

Chester mutters an affirmative and clears his throat. “Right as rain. Go on, then.”

“Thank you.” He rises.

Oh, bugger. I flop aside—no reason to flee now that I’m caught—and wait for the inevitable lecture on privacy or respect or some such that my snooping has earned.

Slow, even steps clack closer, the hinges squeak as the door opens. A brief second of awkward quiet passes as I stare at the wall, half-mortified and half-turned on, then wholly mortified about the latter bit.

“Gale.”

“Erm, hi.”

“Get up. Come here.”

I obey. I wanted to see him tonight, and my wish is granted, though my means could surely have been improved upon.

“Let us leave Chester in peace.” He loops his arm around my elbow and leads us away. We walk in silence down the main hall, then turn left toward the old, unused Sandstone Wing. “Why were you watching me?”

“I was curious.”

“Aren’t you always.”

It’s not a question, so I don’t answer.

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop, but you know that.”

“I’m sorry.”

He chuckles. “No, you’re not.”

We continue aimlessly wandering the halls, arm in arm, while I feel a strange mixture of self-consciousness and delight at once.

“Is there something you need?” he asks, voice low. “Something I’ve failed to provide?”

The question catches me off guard, but the answer comes readily enough. “No.”

“Something you want, then?”

You. Your company. Your stories. Some excitement. A trip. The other side. My real family. “Erm, nothing that I can think of.” The lie rolls thick and heavy off my tongue.

He turns his head, studying me as our slow walk circles past empty bedroom suites. I keep mine forward and try not to fidget. These halls are dusty. They could use a good scrub.

“Nothing you need. Yet you creep from your game to eavesdrop.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Pfft. As if I could punish you. No. Not trouble, but you oughtn’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” I probably won’t. Would be doubly embarrassing to be caught twice.

“Good. Since that’s settled, I’ll escort you back to the study. Amaris is surely put out by your departure. And when she’s mad, she—”

“Spits. I know.” Without thinking, I blurt out what’s truly bothering me. “Why don’t you feed from me?”

He stops, unlaces our arms, and faces me. “You say that as if you want me to.”

While my brain is on holiday, I may as well say what I wish. “Maybe I do.”

I’ll treasure the memory of his stunned expression for the rest of my life. His open mouth. His dilated pupils. His arched brows. A laugh bubbles up my throat and escapes my lips.

He glares. Ah, yes, that looks more like the Gatekeeper I’m used to. “Not you, Gale. Be glad of it.”

I’m not, though. My stomach sinks. “What’s wrong with my blood?”

“Not a thing.”

“Then why won’t you—”

“Hush.” His spine snaps straight. “You test me.”

I shuffle back a step.

“I’ll not be spied upon in my own home nor plied with intrusive questions. Go back to the others, finish your game, and go to bed. With guests in the castle, the next few days will be busy.”

“But—”

“No back chat. Go.”

I slump. I’ve upset him. It’s the last thing I wanted to do. Now I’m actually sorry, so if that was his goal, he’s achieved it. I’d apologize in truth, but he’s dismissed me, and I won’t risk angering him further.

I sulk as I’m leaving.

Behind me, so soft I almost miss it, he murmurs, “Good night, Mooncalf. Sweet dreams.”