by A. W. Cross
“Can’t I?” She frowned.
“Some things carry bits of power. Memories. Time. Thoughts, feelings, purity. Weaker faery folk can use these things as an exchange for the incredible. Strong faery folk, like myself, can collect them. But you—” He lifted her, setting her before him upon the railing. “You’re a half-human dryad. You’d be lucky to grow an oak half the size of the tower with such help.”
Glaring, she clenched her fists, then her lips slipped into a demure smile. “Really now?” she asked, brushing off his collar. Snatching it, she yanked him toward her. “Watch me.” She shoved him, throwing herself off the railing. Her stomach leaped, but she refused to close her eyes.
Auber’s hand lunged for her, missing. He hurled his body over the rail and dove. Before he could catch up, strong arms shot from the ground three stories down and wrapped her in their leafy embrace. He landed among the branches, his wide eyes sparking.
“What?” he breathed.
“What?” she crooned, reclining and smoothing her dress while her stampeding heartbeat slowed.
His gaze dropped to the roots where the oak had burst from the yard. “But…that’s impossible. A dryad must make contact with soil to…”
“Maybe the half human in me is special.” She stuck her nose high in the air, grinning.
Before whatever he was thinking could escape, he frowned, striding over the branches as though they were level, and stopped before her. “Don’t do that ever again.”
She rose, less gracefully than he had managed to reach her, and stabilized herself against his arm. The muscle jumped, and her lips quirked. “Were you worried about me?”
“Yes.” Full-bodied honesty encompassed the single word, a severity in his gaze that made her breath soften.
“You can worry then?” she asked. “Even without—”
“Someone’s calling me to an appointment,” he murmured, plucking her fingers off him. Not releasing her hand, he peered into the distant wood. Silent moments passed, each longer than the last, then he said, “Forget about this and come with me.”
She stared at him, her lips parted, and she didn’t want to leave his side. “Will it be like the first time?”
His jaw worked, teeth clacking. “It’s hard to know. However, I am discouraged from murder. If word trickled to unwanted ears that I’d dealt unjustly with precious mortals, it could revoke my probation.” His lip curled at the last word.
Fayre cupped his cheek. His oily dark eyes turned toward her, glimmering in the misty light. Softness touched his mouth, and she denied herself the right to trace the contours of his face with her fingertips. “Let’s go see what the pesky mortals want.”
Snorting, he swooped her into his arms. “I imagine this pesky mortal’s request will indeed be unpleasant.” He slid out of the tree with ease, striding inside without setting her down.
She folded her hands against her silk gown. “Why do you say that?”
“He’s a long term client, and it always is. His memories have been delightful, though. That’s why I do it.”
“I thought you didn’t need memories to do incredible things, oh great and powerful faery.”
His fingers flexed against her, bleeding straight through the fabric until she could feel the indent of his touch. “Correct. I collect them for different reasons. And perhaps after this horrendous little escapade, I’ll tell you what they are.”
He set her before a mirror and extended his hand. She clasped it without reservation. “One of the Beast’s well-guarded secrets? I can hardly wait.”
11
They stepped from the mirror into a glimmering mansion.
Auber’s hand dropped from hers as she took in the space. Wealth shone in every corner, pearl and gold and silver decorating every facet of the interior. But something in the atmosphere marred the perfection.
“Beast…” The word escaped in a breathless whisper, foreboding, and Fayre looked toward a man as adorned as the mansion. He wrung his jeweled hands, then dropped his arms to his sides in defeat.
“Heath,” Auber greeted, his expression baleful. “What’s it this time? Women? Land? Money? Not that you don’t already have more than you deserve in each department.”
Heath flinched as his gaze flicked to Fayre, confusion muddling it, but he shook his head and looked away from her. “You can take it. Take it all. Everything I’ve asked for. Everything I’ve demanded—”
Auber’s brow rose, and his grey arms folded across his chest. He waited a moment before answering thoughtfully. “I don’t provide refunds—can’t, rather. And you shouldn’t know what you’re missing anyway.”
“You can keep the memories.” Health’s words bit, hands clenching. “Just save my daughter.” The man’s balding head dropped, breaths wheezing in and out of his lungs. “You warned me. I know. You said greed came with a price higher than what you were asking. I didn’t listen. But I can’t pay this. I can’t. I can’t let her pay this.”
Long moments of silence stretched in the shimmering room while Auber’s eyes roamed over the man standing before him. “You’ve lost some hair, Heath. Gained some weight. How long has it been?”
“Years. I haven’t called you for years. I deserve—”
Auber interrupted, disinterested, “How many years? You didn’t have a daughter the last time I was here.”
Heath’s eyes searched the polished floor, then closed. “Eleven. When Lea was born, everything changed. But now…men who wish me ill have taken her.” His hands darted forward, gripping Auber’s linen shirt, and panic welled in his gaze. “You have to help me.”
The faery, the beast, raised a single hand, his gaze stony and his expression numb. “Quite contrarily,” he murmured, prying Heath off him, “I don’t have to do anything. All your past wishes have left you dry.” Auber’s eyes moved over Heath’s forehead without quite looking at the sun-spotted skin. “There’s nothing left I want in there, so I believe we’re done.”
“No! We can’t be— There has to be something I can—” Heath jerked forward, hitting an invisible wall. He balled his fists against it, tears filling his eyes when Auber turned back toward the mirror. The man’s pleading expression fell on Fayre, but she couldn’t focus on it long.
Auber pinched her chin, forcing her eyes on him. “You appear disheartened, little boar.”
“You have to help him.” She clenched her hand until her knuckles cracked. Setting her fist against his chest, she pushed against the chasm until his shirt dipped inward. “There may be nothing physically here, but that doesn’t mean you have to act like it. Even beasts can have sympathy.”
“Perhaps.” He combed his fingers through her hair, touching shivering blooms. “But only with the right incentive.”
A snap by her ear split the world, shattering the picture of the golden room. It all fell away, shooting a chill down her spine. Shaking off the transporting magic, Fayre squinted at the glistening city sprawled before her. People bustled about their duties in the morning sunlight, none glancing at the two people who had just appeared on the street before the gates of a mansion.
“I’ll be back.” Auber strode forward.
“What?” She moved after him, but people filled the space between, unaware. “Where are you going?” she called as the distance to him grew.
He walked backward, weaving through the throngs as though they didn’t exist. “Do keep up, Fayre. Bad men have a young girl. I’m off to deal unjustly with them while you stay put.”
Fayre eyes widened. “What are you planning to do in front of a little girl?”
“Don’t worry.” He spun on his heel and strode forward, growling, “She has a blindfold.”
Sickness coiled in Fayre’s stomach, tying knots around her lungs. Backing up, she pressed against the mansion gate to fight off the sour taste in her mouth. A cart rattled past Auber, concealing him from her view, and by the time the human had moved, her beast was gone.
✶
“Lea!” Tears stream
ed down Heath’s face, blotching his skin, and his shaking hands reached forward, hesitating. “Did they hurt you, darling?”
Auber’s hold tightened as the little girl twisted in his arms to face her father. “Papa? What do you mean? Who would have hurt me?”
Terror paled the man’s round cheeks, and fury sparked in his gaze. “What did you do, Beast?”
Delicately, Auber set Lea down, patting her head with his grey fingers. “Saved your daughter. You’re welcome.” A tone like death laced his voice.
Fayre’s clasped hands constricted as she swallowed the stinging sensation rising up her throat and remained silent beside Auber. Whatever had happened, she was glad he hadn’t brought her along. Despite his kind smiles for Lea, danger licked off his skin, singeing her every time she glanced his way. Worse, she swore he smelled of blood.
Soft giggles blinked Fayre out of her thoughts. “Will we get to play again, Miss Dryad?” Lea smiled, oblivious to the tears in her dress and the dirt on her face.
“Play?” Fayre’s brows furrowed.
Auber dropped to his haunches and caught Lea’s hands in his. “Miss Dryad shouldn’t have stolen you away like she most definitely may have done, right? Most of the time she is far too busy making trouble for me to bother stealing children away. Of that I am certain. Now,” he nodded, “Papa is waiting for you. Don’t you think he’s been worried?”
Lea glanced over her shoulder, and a light ignited in her expression. Pulling her hands out of Auber’s, she darted and threw herself into Heath’s arms. He caught her, squeezing her small body against his as though he’d never let go again.
Perhaps he wouldn’t.
More bitterness stung Fayre’s throat, and she focused on her breath.
Lea wriggled, laughing. “What’s wrong, Papa? Did you miss me that much?”
“Yes.” His voice quivered. “I did.”
“I haven’t been away very long. But I have so much to tell you! About…about…” The little girl’s eyes blinked, and she glanced behind her at Fayre. “Right! About Miss Dryad and our adventure.”
“My condolences about your wife,” Auber murmured, already starting toward the mirror. “Come along, Fayre.”
“Wait.” Heath lifted Lea with him as he stood. “What do I owe you?”
Auber paused. His chest filled with breath, then he slowly released it. “Everything and nothing; the dryad has paid your price. You’d do well to leave this place and start fresh somewhere else. I won’t come again.” His head turned, but his stare never met either human. “Good luck.” Gaze falling on Fayre, he extended a hand, so she crossed to him and took it.
Before he had drawn her through the glass and into the Myre, Lea said, “Bye, Miss Dryad!” Fayre looked back while the little girl waved, clutched within her father’s arms, and emotion coiled in her throat.
All too soon, liquid glass enveloped her and she was back in a palace hallway. “What happened?” she whispered, the words coarse.
Auber’s hand clenched around hers before the touch disappeared. “Something unpleasant.” His fingers dredged through his hair, gripping the ends before he glanced back at her. “I took her memories and replaced them, but they are heavy ones to bear.”
Rushes of ice froze Fayre from within. She swallowed. “What do I owe you, Auber, for her?”
His fingers met her dark skin, pressing her back against the cool glass of the mirror. Magic tingled down her spine. “You have compiled quite the tab.” His touch trailed along her neck until his chill seeped through the gauze covering her chest. Shadows darkened his hooded eyes, his black tongue flicking over his lips. “Maybe I should take your body and your heart at once.”
Nails bit flesh, his hand digging into her, and breath fled her lungs. She held firm, expecting pain, expecting blood to gush from open wounds and spill over the leaf green of her gown until only shades of autumn remained. Instead, all pressure lessened, and he hummed. “That really should have worked.”
“What?” she gasped.
“Your thorns.”
Her eyes widened. “My thorns?”
“Was I lacking in the menacing department? If I can’t frighten one untamed half-breed into her natural defenses, I must be growing soft.” He turned. “You’re to blame if I am.”
She snatched his arm before he could casually stride away. “Was that all you were doing then? You don’t expect payment?”
“From you?” His brow rose. “No.”
“You said there’d be a price. How could you lie?”
Folding his arms, he faced her again. “I didn’t. I said, ‘the dryad has paid your price’. Past tense. You’ve already paid it.” His deep-seated sigh responded to the muddled confusion etched upon her face. “I’d rather not spell out the greatness of what you’ve given me, especially since even you haven’t realized it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“As I just said, in so many words. Is your comprehension this evening lacking?” His thumb skimmed over her lips. “You are debt-free. Be satisfied with that, and come along. The night is young yet. Maybe another bout with the goblins will coax out your thorns. Then I found a particularly interesting book I’d like to share with you. And there was talk of secrets before we left too.” His face pinched. “On second thought, it’s actually quite late, isn’t it?”
Fayre frowned, gripping his arm. “In the past month, I’ve read countless stories of faery folk. If I’ve unwittingly given you something so precious, I need to know what it is.”
“Precious? Did I say it was precious?” His gaze caught on the ceiling. “Priceless is a better word.”
“Auber.” The warning in her tone drew his attention, tugging a smooth smile out of him.
His thumb moved steadily against her skin. “Telling you will come with a price, one I will satisfy immediately. Are you sure you want to know?”
Her eyes narrowed. “If whatever this is happens to be priceless, every fee is handled instantaneously.”
“This one will be special.”
She waved a hand. “Spit it out then.”
His grin broke over his fangs. “You’re in love with me.”
Everything moving inside her stilled. “I am not.”
“Lies.” He chuckled, and the sound melted over her in a way that set her aflame. Red boiled in her cheeks.
“No. Really. I swear I’m not. Wouldn’t I know?”
He was moving closer now, crowding her until the indent of the large mirror’s frame dug into the backs of her thighs. “Would you?”
“Don’t toy with me, or this.” Her eyes stung. Why did her eyes sting? “How cruel would it be to fall in love with a heartless man?”
“I imagine it’s very painful.” He tilted her chin up. “Which would explain why you’re crying.”
Her hand jolted from her side, but he caught her wrist. Leaning close, his lips touched her flesh, his gentle tongue tracing a trail of kisses back to the corner of her eye.
“Stop,” she croaked, but no strength filled the word. “Please.”
“How did you let this happen?” he whispered against her skin.
“It didn’t.”
“Then push me away. Attack me. You know I won’t care. If you sliced me apart with thorns, I would heal before I reminded myself to feel pain.” Darkness glimmered, his voice rumbling like distant thunder, sending ripples across her fragile surface. “Or…kiss me. That’s my price.”
“Is this your next plan to bring out my thorns? Frighten me to tears and force yourself on me?”
“I’m hardly forcing.” His fingers threaded around hers, the hold light but so, so present.
She closed her eyes. “You’re…horrible.”
He tipped her face toward his lips, dipping near for the barest taste. “And you’re enchanting.”
Electricity exploded, zipping to every nerve, every follicle, as his lips closed over hers. Hints of wine tinged his breath. Samples of the sweetness skated over her tongue, passed directly fr
om his. Sound caught in her throat, escaping somewhere between a moan and a sob.
Her arms tangled around his still chest; his arms cradled her against his body and the mirror. Shaking, she clenched his hair. His fingers threaded the locks at the base of her neck, tugging gently.
Every thought pleaded for her to push him away. But she couldn’t.
“Say it,” he murmured, hot breath passing her cheek.
She choked on the words. “Not until you can.”
“Until I can?” he growled, but it wasn’t harsh. “Do you realize how entitled that sounds?”
She broke away, her lips aching for more, her cheeks streaked, her body warm. “Yes.”
His tongue ran over his teeth. “I crave you.” He searched her face. “I enjoy you.” His hands squeezed her waist. “I don’t want to imagine the world before I met you. I don’t want to think about life without your smile, without your wide-eyed reading face, without your tiny disapproving frowns every time I call you ‘little boar’.”
Her nose scrunched, and he snorted a laugh, pressing his forehead to hers. “There. Right there.” The reverent words could have been a prayer. “You don’t understand. You love me. I haven’t felt any emotions in my chest for centuries, but this—this priceless, precious thing—I feel it in my soul.”
“I love you, Auber.” She collapsed in his arms, curled tight against his body, unwilling to move away for even a second.
He held her. “I know.”
A sniffle rattled her bones. “I really, really love you.”
“Yep.”
“So you have to promise me we’ll get your heart back and then you’ll make it fall in love with me too.” Her throat was raw. “Because this is too cruel, and you aren’t cruel. You aren’t.”
Silence penetrated her pleas, his hold hardening around her. He didn’t breathe. When she peered up at his face, his stare clung straight ahead, the blacks of his eyes huge.
A beat against her breasts. Another.
A sharp intake of breath.
Her murmured name.
“Fayre. Run.”