Tempted By Fae

by Midnight Coven

  “Do you know how to find her?”

  “I do not. But now that we have the ring, perhaps I have time to travel more freely?”

  “I know not sir, but one can hope.”

  I get to my feet. “I shall go to my quarters and clean up. When I return, will you conjure the mists?”

  “Yes sir. I will wait for you here.”

  I grab my coat and throw the door open. “I shall go at once.”

  Chapter Ten

  Mila

  I sit in my car, staring down into the valley, wondering what the hell I am doing. It’s been four days since I left Ansel in the meadow, four nights since we came together under the moon. Four days which feels like an eternity with this terrible pain in my heart. Had I not lost a love before I would say this is like a death, but it is not. In a way it is worse—if that is even possible—because I know that he lives.

  Ansel lives and I have no way to go to him, and no way to tell him I am here.

  No way to tell him that I would like to do it again, get a do-over so I could have him back. Only this time I would give him the ring and my heart. I have no shame in this. This goes beyond mere desire or lust or need. It is as if my soul yearns for him in a cosmic way.

  I step out of the car and walk down to the lake, watching the clouds slide over the moon, wondering if I have lost my mind.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ansel

  I’ve gone back to the lake every day since she left, and I am starting to feel like I’ve lost her. Maybe my heart is lying to me and she is not my fated one, not the match for my soul. But, how can I think that when the very fiber of my heart is imprinted with her name?

  “Mila, Mila, Mila…” I repeat her name like a prayer, pacing the tower, waiting for Tagel to conjure the mists yet again even though I know we can’t keep doing this, squandering the magic that has been so fragile for so long. It will take some time before the return of the lamendium can fortify the portals, just as it took that long to damage them. And yet the mage has been so patient with me.

  “Another hour sir. I can send for you?” The old man places a hand on my shoulder as if to send me away, but I haven’t left his chamber since I got back.

  “I can’t bear to leave, Tagel. What if…” I have no idea what possibilities I am nursing, I just know that I want to be here for anything that may come.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mila

  Of course, the night I choose to return is the one night it’s supposed to rain. I hug my arms around me as the chilly drops touch down, breathing deeply to take in the scent of wild sage that is woken in the damp.

  My eyes trace the moody mountains in the distance, their tips obscured by the clouds. The lake is turbulent with the heavy rainfall and looks like a black mass incapable of reflecting anything. Lightning bursts overhead, sending craze-lines across the sky. It’s like my grief has taken on the form of the weather and I am the conductor, pulling this symphony from Mother Nature herself.

  I drop to my knees, wishing for a different choice. Wishing that he felt me here and came rushing back to my arms. That his desire on this side of the door was for something more than a crystal embedded in a golden ring.

  I let the rain hide my tears, which flow freely now. I cry for Brian and for my grandmother, I cry for Ansel, but mostly I cry for myself because I have been so afraid to live that I walked away from the first true thing I’ve felt in more than a year.

  Anger and grief collide inside me and I scream into the darkness. My voice gets swallowed by the thunder and the pelting rain. I scream again and again, and then I realize I’ve been screaming his name.

  “Ansel!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ansel

  Ansel!

  I wake with a start, my arms bracing against the bench in the mage’s tower. Moonlight streaks through the chamber, a stark brightness in the room which is lit by a glowing candle and a small banked fire in the hearth.

  I glance around the space, wondering what has woken me. I feel as though a sound rang out. Tagel slumbers in his armchair next to the fire, his slippered feet propped up to take in the warmth. The door is closed and the windows locked and there seems to be nothing amiss. And yet I heard something.

  Ansel!

  Mila’s voice rings through the air like a whisper. Have I conjured her in my mind? Have I truly gone mad?

  Ansel!

  She is distressed and crying. My god. Can it be that she has returned to the lake?

  I hurry across to the mage and shake him by the shoulders. “Tagel! Tagel! Wake up, dear man. I hear her.”

  The mage’s eyes spring open as if he was awake all along and playing a game. He hops to his feet. “Ohhhh, dear sir. That is a clear sign if ever I heard one. This woman, she is not only part fae, but if you can hear her, then she is truly your fated one.” He rubs his hands together as if we’ve hatched a delicious plot. He stops and gapes at me, his hands raised. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  “What?”

  “Get your boots on, your highness. I will conjure the mists.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mila

  Lightning strikes a tree near the edge of the lake, and I realize with a start that I am out in the open on a wide meadow, near a lake, during an electrical storm. There couldn’t be a worse place to be.

  My throat is hoarse from screaming and I feel like I’ve just run a mile at altitude, uphill both ways. I have nothing left to give. I am depleted and soaked through and lost.

  I get to my feet, which takes every ounce of my will, knowing that I have to get back in my car and drive back to my life which feels like the worst kind of defeat.

  Did I truly expect him to be here?

  Yes, I did. And the knowledge that I am alone here feels like another cut in my shredded heart. I was so hopeful. I thought maybe… just maybe I could get to that place again. The place where light lives daily and smiles come easy. But maybe that isn’t what I am meant for.

  I get to my feet and stare at the lake, sending it a tiny bit of thanks for taking on my grief and pain for a little while. When I turn to go, a patch of white on the right bank catches my eye.

  The fog pulls away and he’s there. At first I am sure I’ve imagined him, but he’s quickly getting soaked through with the teeming rain.

  I barely know him; I know this. But seeing him now feels like coming home.

  He looks surprised to see me.

  I blink and make sure I am not going crazy and then he smiles.

  I run.

  He meets me halfway and takes me into his arms, lifting me off the ground and spinning me as we kiss.

  “Oh, Mila. Mila. I thought I lost you.”

  I kiss his lips and his cheeks and his chin and his ears. I want to touch every part of him with my lips. “You came for me?”

  “I heard you calling my name. I knew when I heard the sound of your voice that you felt the same pain I feel without you.”

  The fact of it takes my breath away.

  He turns toward the mist and pulls me to follow him.

  I pull away, stopping in my tracks. “Where are you going?”

  Ansel turns to me, his face lit up with the flash of lightning. “Come with me? Spend eternity with me.”

  “Eternity?” I feel the pull of him in my chest, in my heart. I want to go, but… I don’t know.

  “Where I come from, time is a very different thing.” He cups my face in his hands and kisses me. “Come with me, Mila. Let me show you another world where anything is possible and you can live a hundred lifetimes. There is so much you don’t know. So much I can show you, share with you. Let me love you, Mila.”

  I look in his eyes and I feel the truth of his words, the rightness of us. “Ansel. I…” I start and feel the familiar fear taking over. “What if…”

  He shakes his head and shrugs. “Give in, love. It’s only forever.”

  Thunder explodes around us, devouring my response.

  “W
hat did you say?” He leans in.

  I move to his ear and smile. “Forever is not long enough.”

  He pulls away and the smile on his face is enough to send my insides flying. Ansel takes my hand and leads me toward the billowing fog on the lake shore. The mist is cold around my legs as I step into the mist, for the first time feeling a bead of hope in my heart.

  From the author

  Corinne O’Flynn is the USA Today bestselling author of the new WITCH ISLAND MYSTERIES urban fantasy series, the Witches of Tower Hill paranormal suspense series featuring the award-winning GHOSTS OF WITCHES PAST, the Expatriates fantasy-adventure series, and so much more. She also writes contemporary and paranormal romance under a super-secret pen name! Corinne manages AuthorProductivity.com, where she produces publishing planners for authors. She is also a publisher with the award-winning Wicked Ink Books, whose themed anthologies include TICK TOCK: Seven Tales of Time, OFF BEAT: Nine Spins on Song, and DEAD NIGHT: Four Fits of Fear. Corinne is a former Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers Independent Writer of the Year and an active volunteer, giving back to the writing community.

  Corinne is a native New Yorker living in Colorado who wouldn’t trade life in the Rockies for anything. She is a self-proclaimed scone aficionado, and she has an entire section of her kitchen devoted to tea. When not writing, she can be found hanging with her husband and their four kids, playing board games, knitting, reading, or binge watching some fabulous shows (while sipping tea).

  www.CorinneOFlynn.com

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  Copyright © 2020 by Lisa Manifold

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter One

  Calla

  I looked out on the balcony into the night. It was as though thousands of fairies had dropped lights all throughout Paris, making the city twinkle and sparkle. I smiled at the sight and stepped back into my room.

  Tonight, I was going to take the longest bath known to man, drink the entire bottle of champagne the hotel had provided (I’d already moved the second flute into the small mini fridge), and sleep naked diagonally across the king-sized bed. I’d already felt the sheets. They were the softest sheets I’d ever come across, and tonight, I was going to enjoy them. After all, I had them all to myself.

  I looked out the balcony window again. Being here, by myself, tonight—it seemed as though I ought to be crying. But I’d checked periodically as I’d made my way from New Mexico to Paris—and there were no tears to be found. I wasn’t even red-eyed, as you might expect to see for someone in my situation. I wasn’t crying at all.

  Given that only a week ago had been my wedding day—well, it was supposed to have been my wedding day—there were a lot of things I ought to be.

  And I wasn’t a single one of them.

  What I was was relieved. So relieved that it was as if a weight had been removed from me, like someone lifted a heavy backpack off my back.

  A flash of light in one of the small parks around my hotel caught my eye. That was weird. But it was beautiful, too. It added to the magic of the night.

  I smiled. I wasn’t sad in the least. Which was odd. I’d loved Trevor. We’d been together for four years—since my junior year of college. I’d graduated two years ago, and last year, he’d proposed. I’d cried my ‘yes’ through tears of joy and happiness. What had happened in the space of only a year? We’d spent so much time laughing as we planned this wedding—it had been joyful.

  Until it hadn’t. The loss of our joy and our laughter had started maybe three months ago. Suddenly, he was too tired to plan the wedding. I was doing all the final meetings, and making decisions, and writing checks. Everything. And he just… hadn’t been there.

  The morning of our wedding, I walked down the aisle on my mom’s arm to see Trevor standing at the altar. Instead of a beaming smile, he was frowning, and the wrinkle between his eyebrows was out in full force. He was also nervously twisting his hands.

  “Hey,” I whispered as my mom put my hand over his.

  He didn’t reply.

  “What is it?” I asked as I took a step closer.

  He bent his head to mine and said something.

  I couldn’t hear him. “What?”

  “I can’t do this,” I heard.

  I blinked, looking beyond his tuxedoed shoulder. The room went into a narrow tunnel focus, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to stay on my feet. I put a hand out and felt someone grab it. Maybe it was Trevor. I couldn’t tell, because I was focused on the spot high along the ceiling where sun was shining. I could see the dust motes in the sun’s rays. They moved slowly, in no hurry, completely calm.

  “You asshole,” I said, and then everything went black.

  The long and short of it was that Trevor not only had cold feet, he was playing footsie with someone else. I cried that day and then called the travel agency that we’d arranged our honeymoon through. I put all Trevor’s travel plans into a credit on my account, pushed out the travel dates by one week, took a shower, and went to go see my not-husband.

  Trevor was at his parents’ house. He had taken off his jacket, but still wore the tuxedo shirt and pants. I came armed with a folder of paperwork, a pen, and the name of my attorney, ready to beat him with any and all of it.

  When I left, he’d agreed to sign over the entire honeymoon to me and written me a check for ten thousand dollars. It wasn’t that I wanted the money, but damn. He’d let me write checks for the last three months, and he’d known that he wasn’t into me or us anymore.

  During that week, I purged everything related to Trevor from my life. I sold the ring, sold my dress, put all his stuff in trash bags and left them on the porch, and as of last night, he was no longer any part of my existence. I knew that I’d need to deal with the end of a relationship that I thought was forever at some point, that I’d need to process everything. Right now, however, it was about survival. In order to have a future where I didn’t wander around like Miss Havisham in a moldy wedding dress, I was going to have the best damn vacation I’d ever had.

  Back to the present. Right now, that meant the bath. I went into the bathroom, dropping my clothes as I walked, and started the water. The hotel had a wonderful selection of bubble bath and crystals. I sniffed at them, and then dumped a bunch of lavender scented crystals in, waiting for the water to get to an acceptable level.

  Once I was in the tub, I let myself relax. This was the first time I could feel my body easing up, letting go, since the morning of the wedding. I sat in the tub until the water got cold, and then wrapped myself in the fluffy robe and went back out to the small table and chair on the balcony, purse in hand.

  The list was there, folded in the top pocket, right where I’d left it. I pulled it out, setting it on the table while I opened the bottle of champagne that sat in the bucket, ice beginning to melt.

  Once I’d had a sip—wow, was it amazing—I opened up the list.

  Paris Night Tour

  The Catacombs

  Moulin Rouge

  Versailles

  The Louvre

  Breakfast on the Seine

  Mt. St. Michel

  Chocolate tour

  Hidden places of Paris tour

  Cheese tour

  Tomorrow, I was scheduled to do the first two things on my tour—the Catacombs, and the evening tour of Paris. When we’d planned our honeymoon, Trevor and I decided to spend it in the U.S. Virgin Islands. I wanted something totally different, something I’d always wanted to do. I booked myself a flight to Paris, a fabulous hotel, and all the things I’d always wanted to see. I’d never been out of the country before, and now, here I was in Paris. I was
alone, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

  When I told my mom what I had planned, she’d been beside herself. “What are you going to do in that city all by yourself, honey?” she’d asked, her face wreathed in worry.

  “I’m going to sleep in, eat whatever I want, and go see all the things Trevor wasn’t interested in.”

  She pursed her lips, not sure how to respond to that. “Wouldn’t you rather save the money?”

  I shook my head. “No. I can’t get it back. I can only use the credits for something else. I’m not going to waste this, Momma.”

  She pulled me into her arms then. “That’s the right attitude,” she said, patting my back.

  With those four words, I knew I’d have to move. Our small town, Chimayo, New Mexico, had only three thousand-ish people in it on a normal day. Everyone knew everyone else, and no one would ever let me forget that Trevor Quintana had literally left me at the altar. It would haunt me until I died.

  I loved Chimayo, but I would have to leave. One more reason to kick Trevor where it would be most instructive the next time I saw him. I was hoping to have the urge to kick him be a thing of the past by the time I got home. He wasn’t worth my sadness. Perhaps a good kick for making it so that I had to upend my life because of his selfishness? That would feel good.

  It made me angry that I’d cried myself to sleep every night since the non-wedding. I’d made a rule for myself, however, while on vacation. There was no crying during the day. The day was time for me to get out, do what I wanted, and work on putting my life back together. Hopefully, there would be no crying at night, either. Tonight was off to a good start. He was my past, and I was looking forward to my future. This trip was my first step toward that future, whatever it held.