Page 23 of Tempting the Fae Lord (The Gatekeeper’s Weakness)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ezra

As much as I would love to stay in the warmth of our sacred nest, I carefully untangle myself from Gale and climb out of bed.

He sleeps like the dead.

Or no, having seen one too many dead lately, I shouldn’t say that.

He sleeps like the world before dawn, quiet and still.

I steal a long, luxurious moment to take him in. His soft, messy hair, the dark crescents of his long lashes on his cheeks, the cupid’s bow of his pink lips. He’s a lovely sight. I memorize the picture to keep forever.

I wish I didn’t have to leave right now, but there’s a fae sorceress to vanquish, and it’s best I take care of the problem immediately.

And alone.

With one last lingering backward glance at the beauty in my bed, I exit my chambers and steel myself to end Sonja’s plotting once and for all.

The fortress is quiet, but not totally silent. I count each heartbeat coming from the strongroom and take comfort knowing that my people are safe.

Gale is safe.

I never thought I’d take a lover again, certainly not one as sweet as Gale.

I don’t deserve such a treasure, but I’ll do everything in my power to be worthy of his affection.

Starting and ending with never letting him feed from me again, no matter how much we both crave it.

If we’re to be companions, I mustn’t have any sway over his will.

He must stay free from my persuasion.

I exit through a hidden tunnel on the southern side of the keep. If anyone’s keeping lookout, they’ll have trouble spotting me. Sonja, Petru, the queen’s soldiers, her mage. Too many threats to keep track of.

Outside, the fog rolls thick over the frost-covered farmlands. Dense cloud cover obscures the light of the moon and stars, but no matter. I can see fine in the dark.

Nose to the wind, I search for the telltale sinister energy of Sonja’s magic. I have never been, admittedly, a very good tracker, but I have to try.

I pick up the stale scent and follow it. A wave of pure relief hits as her trail leads away from my cemetery instead of toward it, but as each footstep brings me closer to the road to the village, I tense again.

As important as it is for me to protect my dead, it’s even more vital that I defend the living.

The villagers may not like me, but I owe them my protection nonetheless. They’re here because of me, so the least I can do is keep them safe.

I remain on foot to better track my quarry, sprinting with my vampire speed to eliminate the head start she and Petru have on me.

Another strong smell hits. A whiff of smoke. Burning wood and thatch.

Dread boils a hot line up my spine.

A hazy orange glow grows in the distance, hovering over the village like the most wicked of clouds.

With a roll of my shoulders, I unleash my wings and snap them open. I take to the sky, flying as fast as I’m able, scent trail be damned. This must be her doing.

The fire pulses and expands as I draw close. Panicked yelling and screaming soars next to me in the smoky night sky.

“Water. We need more water!”

“The well pump is jammed!”

“Fix the pump. Hurry!”

“Can’t let it spread.”

I home in on the wreckage. The village storage barn has been set aflame, located adjacent to the town square, and beyond that, a row of small cottages. If the fire spreads, we could lose half the village.

I take in the scene, scanning for the telltale shrieking of the fae harpy or another one of Petru’s rotting armies, but all I see are villagers and soldiers scrambling to put out the flames.

Where is she?

Then it hits me. The fire will wipe out her magical trail. She could go anywhere, and I won’t be able to follow. Rot me sideways.

The chaotic clanging ring of the town bell startles me into action.

Handle the fire, then search out its inevitable cause.

I swoop down toward the group of men struggling to fix the jammed well mechanism. Amid the mayhem, they don’t notice my arrival.

“Allow me,” I say.

Heads turn. “Gatekeeper.”

“Help us!”

They shuffle out of the way.

Rather than fix the well, I call upon my magic. Water has always been my strongest element. Particularly, frozen water, but liquid will also obey my command.

I direct a massive flow of water directly from its underground abode toward the flames.

The unnatural rain pelts the burning thatched roof and douses the hay and grain stored inside.

Steam sizzles wherever it lands. The flames are no match for the deluge and die a quick, sputtering death. The damage is contained to the barn.

The villagers cheer.

I grind my teeth.

That was too easy.

And still no sight of Sonja. She’s probably long gone by now.

A group crowds around me, thanking me, chattering nervously with the unspent energy that comes with life-or-death emergencies thwarted.

I stay and help assess the damage, all the while taxing my senses for information. Any hint of a threat, and I’m ready to strike.

But nothing more happens.

No sign of her.

Once everyone is accounted for and we’re certain every single ember has been doused, I assure them there’s no need to worry about the stored food. I’ll see to it their larders are refilled. No one under my care will go hungry,

By the time I fly back to the fortress, it’s nearly sunup.

I’m covered in soot, mud, and grime from my labors. Inside, the castle’s occupants still sleep. I stop in the kitchen to collect water and head to my rooms to wash up, in a hurry to check on Gale.

He snores quietly in the center of my bed beneath layers of silk and fur, only his pretty curls peaking out from the covers. The temptation to simply stand here and bask in the reality of Gale in my chambers, asleep in my bed, safe and secure, is hard to resist.

But I make myself move.

I peel away my dirty clothes and have a quick wash with ice-cold water. Once more, I reach out with my senses, stretching, unfurling, and flexing. I search for anything amiss. Anything at all.

And find nothing.

I clench my jaw, frustrated.

It’s not that I want something to be wrong. That’s the last thing I want. What I want is to crawl into bed with Gale, snuggle him close, and perhaps stay there together for a fortnight or more, the two of us.

But something feels off.

Deep in my gut, anxiety churns, telling me not to rest. Not yet. To be vigilant.

Though soon the sun will rise, and I’ll have no choice but to hide from its deadly rays.

I dress in another set of regular clothes. No way can I put on bedclothes when I have the feeling I could be torn from sleep for some emergency at a moment’s notice.

Careful not to wake him, I sit next to Gale, stare at the stone ceiling, and think.

I shall have to meet with the queen’s people. Tedious. They’ll want an explanation. I dread having to admit a rogue fae sorceress and her pet death mage are on the loose this side of the gate, and it’s all my fault.

In centuries of dutifully tending to the obligations of my bloodline, I’ve never made an error so egregious. Never risked the lives of those around me. Never failed to contain a problem quite so spectacularly.

Maybe Gale is right after all, and I need their help. Though it pains me to admit it, if only to myself, handling this alone isn’t working.

At my side, Gale stirs and rolls toward me as though sensing my presence even in his sleep. Maybe he does. My blood flows through his veins at this very moment. And his blood sings to me from beneath his delicate skin.

But I’ll never know its taste. I’ll never indulge.

I lie back and settle a comforting arm over his middle. He’s had more excitement in the last few weeks than he had in his first twenty some years combined. All of that with very little actual rest between crises. He deserves a good slumber.

With a whisper of magic, I lull him back to a deep sleep.

My world feels complete with him here, though his presence is a boon I don’t deserve. He steadies me, as if he’s an anchor I’ve been waiting for my whole life.

I’m grateful he’s here. Under my roof. At my side.

And in my bed.