To Stir a Fae's Passion

by Nadine Mutas

  More of the bitey bastards swarmed him, and soon he was fighting them off at close range with daggers drawn and blades whirring. Isa was locked in a similar struggle, her bow at her feet.

  An irate scream from Isa, and then the earth rumbled. A second later, a boulder the size of a desk smashed through the wall to their right, slammed through the swarm of fae creatures, and flattened them against the opposite wall. The few remaining flesh-eating creeps screeched and fled.

  Basil blinked, looked from the rock missile embedded in the wall to the panting fae female who snatched up her bow. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

  One side of her mouth tipped up in a knee-weakening half-smile. “At least when there’s stone nearby.”

  He wanted to reply when a faint noise drew his attention to the ceiling directly above her—where a huge beam was coming loose from the impact of the rock she’d thrown.

  “Watch out!” he yelled and launched himself at her.

  He pushed her out of the way and against the wall a mere second before the massive beam crashed into the floor. Isa’s breath hitched, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt, and her mouth opened on a gasp as she stared over his shoulder. He turned his head and followed her gaze.

  The beam had rammed through the floor exactly where Isa was standing a moment before.

  She uttered a frustrated sound.

  “What?” Basil asked, facing her again.

  She graced him with a look that could have shriveled a lesser man.

  He wanted to ask her about it when it dawned on him. “Oh. I saved your life again, didn’t I? Wait, does that mean you owe me a double life debt?”

  “No,” she muttered with a sigh and pushed off the wall, out of his arms. “But you don’t need to rub it in by repeating it.” The wink she sent him undermined her grudging tone, made it clear she wasn’t really annoyed.

  Cocking a brow, he raised both hands. “Okay, okay. Next time someone or something wants to kill you, I’ll let them have at it. Don’t want nobody saying I’m disrespecting your wishes.” He wagged a finger at her. “See, I’m a modern man, and I can absolutely hold back from gallantly saving a female’s life if it offends her.”

  And with a decisive nod and amusement bubbling in his veins, he picked up his bow and collected his arrows.

  Isa watched Basil retrieve his arrows, and her heart ached with how much she wanted to kiss him right now, kiss that barely-there smile on his face, inhale his humor, his sunshine, his light. Oh, and if she lived a thousand lifetimes, she’d always yearn for the brilliance of his smile, the warmth in his eyes, the way he could make her wonderfully dizzy with lighthearted joy just by looking at her. Could make her forget her troubles with a few funny remarks.

  Light such as his should not be snuffed out.

  The thought whispered through her mind, its roots growing into her heart. I know, she wanted to cry in answer, and I wish there was another way.

  But there was none. She’d spent two decades searching for another way to break the curse, all in vain.

  Her pulse thrummed in her head, her vision faltered. She balled her hands to fists, closed her eyes. I don’t want to die.

  She was a little girl again, clawing her way out from under the heavy body of the dead adult male who’d thought her easy prey…survive…living off insects and the carcasses of squirrels and birds during a particularly harsh winter before she learned how to hunt…survive…hiding in stone from the irate shop owner who caught her stealing a pair of shoes to replace the ones that fell off her feet…survive…breaking the water fae’s hold on her ankle so she could struggle out of the lake and escape her death in the deep…

  Survive. It was all she’d ever done, all she knew how to do.

  Her breath hitched, burned in her throat. With a pained sound, she forced herself to move, to collect her arrows and follow Basil out of the cottage.

  He stood with his back to her, his hands on his hips. When she stepped up to his side, he let out a heavy breath.

  “It’s a dead end, isn’t it?”

  She grimaced. “We can still ask around the nearby village, see if the fae there know anything about where Rose and her captors went.”

  He nodded, sighed, his sunshine subdued. “There’ll be food, yes?”

  Sitting with his back to the wall, Basil watched the patrons in the pub while he took another bite of his steak. So many different kinds of fae, their shapes ranging from bark-skinned, wiry creatures that could have been miniature ents from Lord of the Rings, over the more common human-looking beings with pointed ears—both the bigger-sized ones like him and Isa, as well as the tiny, winged variants also found outside of Faerie—to burly creatures who seemed to be two-legged boars.

  As a member of a witch family, Basil was used to seeing nonhuman beings, but this group topped anything he’d ever encountered. The best kind of people-watching. Plus, the steak was delicious. The soup had been great, too. As were the bread, the salad, and the casserole.

  Isa slid into the seat next to him, her eyes sparking. “I just heard—wait, you’re still eating? How can you fit anything else in there?”

  “I once won first place in an eating competition.” He stuffed more bread in his mouth, chewed with relish.

  “I don’t doubt it for a second.” She shook her head. “As I was saying, I just heard something.” Her fingers drummed on the table.

  Was she waiting for him to pull it out of her? He gestured with his fork, raised his brows while he chewed. “Spiff iff ouff.”

  She leaned forward. “One of the fae I’ve been talking to, she remembered something. She said she talked to the couple who used to live in the house, and they mentioned they were moving to a village called Ranagor. However, she doesn’t recall if they had a child with them when they left.”

  He sat up straight. “That’s still better than anything else we’ve found so far.”

  They’d spent the better part of the afternoon asking around town, trying to find out where the fae who took in Rose went, or what happened to them, but nobody seemed to know anything. All they learned was that the couple had always been very reclusive, didn’t mingle much in town, didn’t have friends, so even in a village where everybody knew everyone else, no one had any information about where they’d gone.

  “Ranagor,” Basil muttered. “How far is that from here?”

  “Another day’s hike, at least.”

  He groaned. “Why don’t you fae have cars?”

  “Because we despise modern technology and prefer to stay fit?”

  He threw a salad crouton at her.

  Chapter 16

  The sunset’s bold colors licked over the sky like fire, crowned by the velvet indigo of the impending night. Isa drank in the beauty of it, ever amazed by the splendor of the spectacle. No matter how old she got, she would never tire of gazing at a sunset, her favorite part of the day.

  “Are we going to spend the night in another cave?”

  Basil’s question pulled her out of her trance. She cleared her throat. “Actually, we can sleep in a real bed tonight.”

  “Oh? Is there a village ahead?”

  “Not quite. I’ve…taken the liberty of redirecting our course by about one hour so we can make a stop overnight.”

  “Where?”

  “My house.”

  He blinked, obviously stunned. “You…you’re taking me to your home?”

  Why did she suddenly feel awkward? Her face heated. “I figured it would be nice to sleep there for a change, seeing as it’s kind of on our way to Ranagor. You don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” His smile was blinding. “I’d love to see how you live.”

  And now her skin prickled, her heart thumped erratically, and her stomach had decided to try a somersault. Great. Why had she thought it was a good idea to bring him here?

  Ten minutes later she led him toward the towering rock formation that housed her humble abode. Part of a sprawling landscape of forest-covered ridges,
her own cliff featured natural caves which she’d expanded on and customized into her home. A stone staircase led up to an ornately carved wooden door, framed by floral patterns chiseled into the rock.

  “Nice,” Basil said from behind her as she unlocked the door. “Did you engrave these yourself?”

  She threw a glance at him, at his hand stroking the decorations in the stone. “Yes.”

  He followed her into her house, studying the arched ceilings, the open doorways leading from one room into the other, the roughly-hewn, curved walls, the shelves worked into the rock, the strategically placed mirrors that reflected the light streaming in from the various skylights.

  “Wow.” Basil turned, craned his head, strolled through the rooms. “Don’t tell me you did all this?”

  “Well,” she said, activating the crystals set in the walls to illuminate the house at night, “I do have a talent for working with stone, remember?”

  “This is fan-fucking-tastic.” Basil’s voice came from her bathroom, muffled by the splash of water.

  She peeked inside.

  He gestured at the waterfall shower, his face alight. “Is this thing always running?”

  “Yes. I rerouted part of the natural hot spring inside the rock formation and let it flow through here. The water’s always warm enough for a shower.”

  “You have your own personal waterfall.” He turned to her, all feigned offense. “I am so incredibly jealous.”

  She didn’t quite manage to bite back her grin, instead walked out of the room before she did something fatal like kissing him silly. “I have a spare bedroom for you. Come.”

  He followed her, then paused and blinked at the nook she showed him. “That’s…a room? Where’s the door?”

  “Uh, none of the rooms have doors. It makes for better air flow through the house.” She shrugged. “Plus, I live alone.”

  He gave her a side-eye. “You don’t often have guests, do you?”

  “No.” She looked down, turned away. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be going to bed. I’m really tired.”

  “Sure.” Before she could walk away, he grabbed her hand, the touch an electric jolt throughout her body. “Isa.”

  She looked at him.

  “Your home is beautiful.”

  The stone-cold part of her cracked, just a little. “Thank you.”

  Damn it all, she hated waking up because she had to use the bathroom.

  With a muffled groan, Isa swung her legs over the side of her bed—so soft, so inviting, calling out like a lover that she shouldn’t leave just yet, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again until she relieved herself. So she padded down the hall on silent feet, hoping not to wake Basil with her nightly wandering, and turned into the open archway to the bathroom—where she froze, her bladder’s call forgotten, riveted on the breathtaking sight of one fine male in all his naked glory.

  Basil stood under the waterfall shower, his back to her, the water splashing over the hard planes of his body, running down ridges and valleys of muscle and smooth skin. Caressing him.

  She’d never been so jealous of water.

  By the Fates, his form was delicious. Unadulterated strength poured into the shape of a prime male specimen, broad shoulders, tapered waist, narrow hips, and a butt that looked positively bitable. His muscles flexed and rippled as he washed himself, unaware of her presence.

  She jerked herself out of the haze of lust. You should leave. Now. Her feet wouldn’t move. Instead, her hand inched toward the arch of the doorway, touched the cool surface, and when the stone sang to her, she answered, allowed it to swallow her form, merge with the rock.

  Naughty, she was so perfidiously naughty to be standing there ogling him. Shame heated her cheeks, while another emotion altogether warmed up wholly different parts of her body. Only one more minute, she chided herself. Then you’ll turn around and grant the man his damned privacy.

  Just then he slowed down, changing from efficient and passionless swipes and scrubs to a more languorous stroking when he reached his groin. His back was still turned, so she only saw part of his arm and elbow, his hand hidden from her by his hips.

  Isa stifled a gasp. Was he—?

  He shifted his weight, the new angle turning him more toward her so she saw him from the side, and…

  Stars above and earth below.

  He had his hand wrapped around his cock, stroked up and down in sinuous moves. The hard length of him jutted up from a close-cropped nest of dark blond curls atop his heavy balls, water sluicing around and over it, flashing images in her mind of her tongue taking that path.

  Heat built in her lower belly, coiled and flared into a pulsing rhythm between her thighs. Her fingernails dug into the rough surface of the archway.

  Up and down his hand went, gaining momentum and speed while he closed his eyes, parted his lips. His breath came faster. What was he imagining while he pleasured himself? A devious, selfish impulse wished it was her, even though she knew it wasn’t right, wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve to be his fantasy.

  But the damage was done, and that wicked, oh-so-wrong, rogue thought of him picturing her turned her body into molten lust. She had to lean against the stone of the doorway to steady herself, her knees gone weak.

  Breathing almost as fast as he did, her nipples sensitive against her nightshirt, she watched while he stroked himself harder, faster, working his shaft with practiced vigor and intent. She wanted to replace his hand with hers, grip him hard and make him thrust into her strokes. Wanted to kiss the powerful muscles on his chest that were bulging under the strain of his pleasure.

  He threw his head back and uttered a hoarse, erotic sound that had her squeezing her thighs together against the throb of need. His bared throat invited her to lick along the column of his neck, nibble on the skin stretched taut over his veins.

  She imagined doing this to him, giving him the pleasure she should have given him last night. Like this, she thought. I want to make him come apart like this.

  His butt tightened as he thrust even faster into his hand, and the corded muscles of his forearm tensed. He braced his free hand against the wall of the shower, let his head fall forward again, water splashing around his neck and shoulders as he hunched over. A soft sound broke from his parted lips, his face contorted in pleasure-pain, and with a husky moan he found release.

  His strokes slowed, became caresses again while the water washed away evidence of his orgasm. Panting, he laid his forehead against the rock wall.

  A heavy knock on the front door startled Isa, and she almost lost the grip on the stone of the archway. Good grief, if Basil saw her now…

  Another knock, louder. She frowned in the direction of the entrance.

  “You should go open the door,” Basil said.

  With a gasp, she looked back at him. He was facing the archway, full-frontal, his still semi-erect shaft on open display, his eyes fixed on where she stood—but not quite directly locked on to her.

  He can’t see me, it’s not possible. She checked her connection to the stone, found it solid. And yet—

  More knocking from the front door.

  She rushed away from the bathroom.

  Chapter 17

  Basil’s breath was still uneven while he used the towel he found on one of the bathroom wall shelves to dry himself off with quick, efficient moves. He was halfway back in his clothes the moment he heard Isa open the front door to whoever dared disturb her at this hour.

  Dared interrupt what could have evolved into a very interesting encounter.

  Gods have mercy, but that was hot. When he heard her padding into the bathroom only to stop dead in her tracks, he thought she’d turn on her heels and run back to bed. He hadn’t faced her or signaled that he noticed her presence so he wouldn’t embarrass her, but then she’d done the unthinkable—she stayed.

  Even though he hadn’t been able to see her, he knew she hadn’t left. He would have heard it. So, he figured he’d give her something to wa
tch.

  He almost hardened again, just imagining what it must have been like for her. The fact that she stayed, had watched him…and now, as he crossed the threshold of the archway, his heightened fae senses picked up the lingering aroma of her arousal.

  Yep, she definitely enjoyed the show.

  With a grin on his face, he strapped on the rest of his weapons and walked toward the entrance area. Isa, clad in long, flowing pants and a loose, short-sleeve nightshirt, held the door open to a fae male, her posture defensive, her free hand half behind her butt, fingers twitching. Probably ready to draw a small dagger at her lower back.

  He surreptitiously prepared one of his knives to slide quickly into his hand if need be. “What’s going on?”

  The male’s attention flicked to him, his golden skin aglow in the light of the crystals, his long, silver hair braided above his temples. “Basil? Basil Murray?”

  He paused. “Who are you?”

  A smile lit up the fae’s face. “I am so glad I found you. My name is Calâr of Air, and I have come to help you.”

  Basil frowned, his gut churning with suspicion. “With what, exactly? How do you know me?”

  Calâr glanced at Isa. “May I come in?”

  “No,” Basil said. “Explain yourself first.”

  Calâr inclined his head. “Of course. I know you only recently found out about your fae heritage, because the glamour on you and the silence spell on Hazel Murray were lifted. The reason for that is that the fae who cast both has died, as I’m sure you suspected. I was a good friend of the fae who exchanged you, but even so, she kept your fate a secret until moments before she died. I was with her when she lay on her deathbed, and she told me of you and made me swear to find you and help you claim your powers.”

  Involuntarily, Basil had stepped closer, his mind racing with the implications of what the fae was saying.