by E Hall
He smooths his fingers down my cheek. “You’re so beautiful—your pearly skin, dark hair, alluring eyes, and those lips. Ones I love to hear talk. Ones I love to kiss.”
He plants one on my lips.
But it’s what he doesn’t say that consumes me. He might love my lips, but he doesn’t want to hear me sing. He survived the fae song, and the curse was lifted, but my wolf warns me to be careful. That the game wasn’t over. My song and lips have the potential to be deadly.
I swallow thickly and kiss Corbin to seize this moment and drown out all the ones I’m afraid are coming.
We all sleep as the plane cruises across the Atlantic. Somewhere over the United States, the sun rises, rousing me. Corbin sits beside me, already awake.
“Do magicals experience jet lag?” I ask around a yawn.
“Not when they’re on their honeymoon.” Corbin winks.
We have breakfast even though it’s well past lunchtime. Afterward, Corbin turns on some music—his favorite band.
I tell everyone about the concert we’re going to.
“Do you think Baker can score more tickets?” Pepper asks.
“If you give him an hour of your time and answer anything he asks about being a dragon, he’ll probably do almost anything for you,” Corbin says.
“He’s a drago-phile?” Pepper asks.
“Big time,” Corbin says.
The song changes and we all jam out, singing along—even me. Well, Clove doesn’t sing but he’s too casually-cool to do so. I doubt he even owns a pair of sandals. He’ll probably rock up to the beach in his tweed jacket.
Between songs, Pepper says, “Guys, we are going to Hawaii.” She bounces in her seat. “I cannot believe it!”
Clove breaks into an enormous grin. “You know what that means?”
“Surfing?” Corbin says, stoked.
“And hula dancing and leis and snorkeling and soft, sandy beaches and warm nights and—” Pepper starts.
“Chilling by the pool,” Clove says.
I add, “And hikes.”
“Lazy afternoons in a hammock.” Pepper pats her bag, sure to contain a few books to read.
I smile. “Fruity drinks.”
“Coconuts.”
“Sunsets.” Clove sighs contentedly.
“Sunrises.” We continue taking turns.
“Waterfalls.”
“I’ve got one. Picnics.” Pepper smiles.
“Paddle boarding.”
“There’s a lighthouse.”
“Maybe we’ll see a rainbow.”
“That would be magic.” I smile because we all know magic exists.
In the presence of my mate, brother, and best friend, my worries slide away. There is something special about this trip—especially after the craziness of the last few months. I want to relax on the beach and do all the things.
When we pass over California, peeking out from under the clouds, I think back to what brought us there months ago—searching for answers, hoping for freedom.
In the seats ahead of us, Clove and Pepper chat.
Corbin strokes the soft space between my thumb and forefinger. A low humming comes from somewhere in the plane. It’s calming, soothing. My shoulders relax.
Then I realize it’s me. The call to sing is so strong I no longer feel free. I want to part my lips and let the familiar fae melody flow forth full volume. But I can’t. I fear that it’s not just dangerous. It’s deadly.
I slap my hand over my mouth, suddenly afraid. Even though I chose my wolf, what if deep down, I’m more fae—like Clove. When cursed, our songs can kill people. Am I capable of the same thing?
I shiver and wrap my arms across my chest. What if I let down my guard? What if I forget to keep my voice locked away?
From what I understand, the cry of the fae can kill with a kiss, if the breath comes close, or even from meeting the eyes. I could never let that happen.
Corbin snuggles his arm over my shoulders.
“Chilly?” he asks.
“Yeah, chilled.”
He turns me to face him. “Are you okay? Flight jitters?” he asks with a sympathetic smile. “It’s a long haul to Hawaii. Just go to your happy place.”
“I am in my happy place when I’m with you.”
He snuggles me closer.
From the seats in front of us, Clove and Pepper playfully bicker. It’s something about weddings, muffins, and tuxedos. I can’t quite gather the details. But they don’t seem angry. Although, I will be if they eat all the muffins Avril gave me.
The banter continues until Pepper stuffs one of the muffins in Clove’s mouth. Thankfully, before a food fight starts, he goes quiet.
“Do you think it’s safe to leave them alone for a prolonged amount of time?” I ask, joking.
“They have food. That should keep them subdued for a little while,” Corbin says. “Why don’t we fight like that?”
“Because you don’t drive me crazy,” I say.
Corbin leans close. At first, it’s as though he’s peering through the little window of the plane. Instead, he nuzzles me. His lips land on my neck, just beneath my ear. He kisses his way toward my collarbone with soft little pecks. Bumps pebble my skin at the same time as warmth floods me.
“You drive me crazy,” he whispers, lacing his fingers through mine and finding my lips.
As our kiss continues, the fae song wants to burst free. But it’s something I can never release. It’s like the longer I hold it in, the more it wants to explode out of me.
Corbin dozes off, mumbling something in his sleep about surfing. I nestle close and smile.
The movie options on the inflight TV, include a group of cartoon animals having a singing competition, high school theater geeks who sing about every single thing, a classic film about a nanny who sings to the children, two biopics about famous musicians, three different musicals, and the movie Pepper can’t stop talking about starring Hugh Jackman.
I pull out the single book Pepper left in my bag when she finally got it zippered closed. It’s about a girl, her guitar, and a summer she’ll never forget. Ugh.
I’d like something that’s not going to remind me of this uncomfortable, backward longing. I’d rather be a wolf. Fully wolf. If I could sacrifice anything, it would be this instability and uncertainty.
When I close my eyes all I can see, hear, and feel is music—the song that’s in my bones, my breath, and my very being.
I start to fall asleep and have a horrible thought. If Corbin can talk in his sleep, what if I sing in my sleep? What if I sleepwalk with my eyes open like some kind of crazed, killer fae zombie and take the souls of my friend or brother or mate while we’re on our way to Hawaii.
I force my eyes open.
By the time our plane touches down, I feel like a zombie: exhausted, my eyes bugging, and my skin is dry from the air in the plane.
I’m riddled with anxiety, feeling the push and pull of not letting myself sing and wanting to sing so badly I can taste it.
What does the fae song feel, taste, smell, and sound like? Like beauty, like the dewfall, like sunshine on the skin, like floating, like freedom.
As we leave the airport to get a shuttle to the hotel, two women wearing floral dresses approach us. They carry traditional leis and greet us warmly. I press my lips together and close my eyes as they sing a greeting. I allow the floral scent around my neck to soothe me and silently chant I am wolf, hear me howl.
Chapter 20
Corbin
As we roll up to the resort, Clove and Pepper’s eyes droop toward closed. Kenna’s gaze is alert, almost like she’s forcing her eyelids wider.
“Guys, after we check-in, let’s hit the waves,” I say.
I’ve only been surfing a few times, but it was so much fun, I’m itching to do it again. Clove agreed to try it—it helps to be especially agile like wolf shifters and fae. Aside from his pale skin, I think he’ll do just fine.
“What?” he asks, disoriented.
“Did you sleep on the plane?” I ask.
“Hardly. We watched the Greatest Showman. Twice,” Clove answers, giving Pepper a side-eye.
She looks slightly guilty. “It’s so good.” She breaks into song. “I think the time zone thing messed with my physical form. I’d shift and try to reboot but—” She looks around. “Unless we hike into the wilderness, I don’t think there’s anywhere inconspicuous enough.”
I laugh. “The ocean will wake us up.”
“My stoke is high,” Clove says in a faux-surfer voice but around a yawn.
When the shuttle drops us off at the resort, we get in line to check-in.
“I still say we should have booked an Airbnb,” Pepper says.
Clove argues, “Don’t forget the pool.”
“But the ocean is right there,” I say, gesturing beyond the pool and palm trees to the sea.
“I thought you wanted to camp on the beach,” Pepper says to him.
It took us a while to decide on an option that was agreeable to everyone.
“That too. That would’ve been fine. Well, if you want to find me after we check-in, you’ll know where I’ll be.” I gaze at the ocean.
Clove claps me on the back. “I’d love to, but I’ll risk drowning. Yes, I’m that tired.”
Pepper shrugs. “I might take a lesson while we’re here, but I think I’ll start by lounging by the pool. I could go for whatever that is,” she says as a server walks out of the cabana with a drink containing umbrellas and other brightly colored decorations. She walks off in pursuit of the beverage.
I eye Kenna, hoping she’s game. This is our honeymoon after all.
“I’ll come with you.”
She takes my hand.
“Surfing?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’m not going bungee jumping or whatever else you did at your bachelor party, but I’ll give it a shot. If it isn’t fun, I’ll watch. Maybe take a walk on the beach.”
“You’re not too tired?”
She shakes her head.
The man behind the check-in desk summons us forward, and we get our rooms.
I’m pretty sure Clove dozes off in the elevator. At this rate, he’ll be lucky if he makes it to the bed in his room. We part ways with rooms across the hall.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be awake for dinner.” The fae yawns.
“We know you won’t miss the all-you-can-eat dessert buffet,” she singsongs.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He closes the door and Kenna and I stand outside our room.
I set my bags down, scoop her up, and cross the threshold. In one gigantic leap, I hop onto the bed. We bounce a few times.
“I know what I’ve been dreaming of,” she says.
I don’t leave anything to her imagination as my lips find hers. The tension in her body leaves. For a blissful few moments, she relaxes. My fingers wind through her hair and the hand other cups her jaw.
The kiss deepens. I never want to leave this moment. But then she pulls back.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
She gives her head a shake as if coming back into focus.
I sense her wandering and worrisome thoughts. I pull her closer so the thunder of my heart replaces her fears.
She tips her head back and wears a smile. “Yeah. I’m fine. Sorry. It’s that song again. I’d rather do this than hear it.”
Her lips return to mine. We pick up where we left off, and I’m very, very glad that we’re married.
Afterward, we freshen up. I pull on board shorts. Kenna ties on a bikini and sarong. We head toward the ocean and get a couple of surfboards.
An instructor gives us a brief lesson. The waves are medium-sized and relatively gentle. I catch one and another.
I call to Kenna, “It’s like riding a bicycle.”
She laughs and catches one, pumping her fist in the air. However, instead of staying out with me, she rides it to the shore.
I catch another wave, but keep my eye on Kenna in case she wants to head back to the resort. She lingers in the shallows, dipping her toes in the water. Her expression relaxes as if her nervous energy settles some more.
I gaze past the surfers and toward the horizon where blue sky meets the blue sea. I take a deep breath. It’s as though the air this far from the frozen north is free from all the stress, tension, and struggle of the last months. I don’t worry that any little glimmer of the water is a sea fae or Melchior watching us, waiting, lurking.
Yet I sense the pressure inside Kenna building. Like it needs to let it out. Perhaps it’s trauma. As she’s mentioned, she grew up experiencing the human way of life. Just like she wanted the wedding to make our union official in some ways, so too she might need some help to process everything that’s gone on—from being Magical’s Most Wanted to playing a major hand in defeating the former fae king. It’s a lot for one person to swallow.
I watch as she walks away from the sunbathers and children playing in the shallows. She pads along in the soft damp sand, free of footprints. My wolf yearns for Kenna. I fear she’s moving farther away from me both physically and symbolically. I chase away these thoughts as I catch another wave and another until the only sound I hear is the ebb and flow of the waves and the beat of my heart—my heart for my mate.
Moments later, a humming sound filters above and below and between the water. I watch as Kenna glances around to be sure no one is nearby, parts her lips, and sings.
The surfers in the water glide toward her. They gaze at her longingly, lovingly. I’m confused until I realize she summoned them from the sea with her song.
I hurry over.
A burly local, with a shaved head and tattoos, shoulders me out of the way before sweeping Kenna into his arms.
She tries to shove him off but caught off guard, another guy whirls her toward him. She slips through his clutches because he’s wet. A third man, glazed over but reckless, advances as I close in on them.
“Back off,” she says.
He grabs for her.
Kenna lets out a yelp which is all my wolf needs to hear. With a rumble in my chest, I bust through and step protectively in front of her.
Another guy tries to shove me out of the way, but I’m fast and nail him in the jaw. I shuffle Kenna out of the shallows. A few guys tussle, vying to get closer to her. All the while, they’re gazing at her, mesmerized, filled with desire.
I growl, “Kenna, stop singing.”
She closes her mouth. Her eyes dip as though she didn’t realize what was going on. Anxiety floods into her expression.
In moments, the others stop moving and stare at each other, dumbstruck.
“What’s the big idea?” one guy asks, eyeing me suspiciously.
Another says, “I’ve heard about girls like you.”
My chest heaves and my fists clench. My eyes flash with warning.
“I’m sorry, I was—” I gesture for Kenna not to say more. She doesn’t need to explain. She also doesn’t need to do that again.
“She is pretty,” one man says sleazily.
“She’s my wife. Back off like she asked you to and mind your own business.” I motion they leave. The Alpha in me speaks firmly.
I guide her quickly away.
“I could have taken care of myself.” She practically sulks.
My eyebrows crimp together. “You could’ve killed them.”
She stops in her tracks. “I know that. I didn’t mean to. I thought I was alone. I went away from the crowds. I—” Her hands form fists like she’s frustrated but can’t quite explain.
I gaze into her eyes as I catch my breath, coming down from nearly tearing the heads off those three guys. “I know.” My voice is rough and tinged with menace and fear.
“You don’t know,” she says, moving away from me.
I don’t waver from her gaze. “Then help me understand.” I pull her down to sit with me in the sand.
She holds her head in her hands. “I just want to sing. I can’t explain it. There’s th
is deep longing, a pull. I just want to sing,” she repeats.
“But you can’t. It’s dangerous,” I say in a low voice. Then add, “Maybe that’s why you want to do it so much.”
“Because it’s dangerous?”
“No, because it’s forbidden.” I try to explain this to her in a way she’ll understand. “When I was a kid, we never had sweets or cakes except for once a year on my birthday.”
“Only once a year? I wouldn’t have survived in Scotland a hundred years ago.”
The kink in my neck loosens—Kenna is acting like herself again. “Of course, we wouldn’t eat the whole thing in one sitting. I probably could’ve, but no way my Dad would let me. It would sit on the counter, beckoning me. I’d ask for seconds. No chance. I’d ask for a piece after dinner, but I’d already had my cake quota for the day. Dad’s rules—probably because we had it so seldom he wanted to savor it. One year, the cake was calling to me. I wanted a slice so badly. I knew my father wouldn’t let me. So the next morning, I got up at dawn and cut myself a big, whopping slice for breakfast.”
I Kenna giggles. “I cannot imagine you as a child.”
My lips quirk. “I ended up polishing off the whole thing. I snuck back to bed, pleased with myself. About ten minutes later, I was bouncing off the walls and then had a stomachache. My father found my plate and fork. I paid the price—had to fix a stone wall and didn’t get cake on my next birthday.”
“Harsh.”
“Those were the consequences. We don’t know what your song will do—it’s concerning that it lured those guys out of the surf. It’s better not to test the waters as it were.” I draw her toward my chest, anchoring us both against this uncertainty.
“But we broke the curse,” she says softly. “And my understanding is that the fae only sang to kill on the full moon. It’s broad daylight on a Tuesday.”
“Happy New Year.”
She sighs. “I just don’t understand. The desire comes and goes, but it’s so strong, I’m not sure how long I can resist it.”
“You’re strong. You can. But when we get back, we’ll talk to someone. I’m sure we’ll find help. In the meantime, no singing so I don’t have to fend off any dudes who want to get frisky with my wife.” I narrow my eyes.