A Cage of Crimson (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #5)

1. Aurelia

Chapter 1

“Once upon a time, in a land far away...”

Fairy tales. What bullshit.

I’d heard it all in my youth. Handsome princes and thrones made of gold. Dresses and balls and animals that talked.

Sure, why not.

And yeah, maybe I’d believed it as a kid. I’d sit with my mom, reading until the small hours of the morning even though I should’ve been in bed hours before, lulled by her soft tone, held tightly in her arms. I’d dream of one day flying like the dragons. Of leading a hunt with the wolves. She’d said I could be anything, live anywhere. It wouldn’t matter where I started because my prince would find me. He’d save me. He and I would eventually lead the kingdom wearing gemmed crowns and creating a safe space for everyone to co-exist, even those who couldn’t quite feel the magic they were supposed to be blessed with.

Turned out, there were no princes for the magically inept. No friends, either. Most of the time, especially in my youth, there was not even kindness. We were the outcasts. The unwanted. If I wanted to be saved, I’d have to do it myself. There was a freedom in that which I valued, an empowerment to claim my future. Though I will admit... it would’ve been nice for a prince to sweep me off my feet.

I inhaled the slightly stale air of the work shed where I spent the majority of my time. Two windows let in the light and a few desks acted as work stations, positioned around the single room space. My fingers moved quickly from years of experience, twisting a particular vine around the Nimfire leaf. After this batch was done, I’d take to my rigged-up contraptions to add pressure and heat, turning the contents into a powerful hallucinogen.

A drug, in other words. The fun kind. The kind that was against the law and would get us all brought in by the royal guards and put to death if anyone should find out we created it.

My life was anything but a fairy tale.

I yanked the vine into a knot. A thorn sliced my calloused finger and little spots of crimson welled up along the cut. The sting of it barely registered.

Another knot, and I dropped that piece into a basin of warm water before picking up another vine.

“You about done?” Razorfang asked. His name was one he’d chosen for himself after taking too much of the particular product I was making. A scratch ran down his cheek and frown lines etched into his ruddy face. The grizzled older man had a slight hunch from many years of tending the village gardens, a necessary element to our operations.

He stopped a few paces away from my workstation, a rickety little desk tucked into a corner with a slight lean to the right. He never dared get too close, which was fine by me. He didn’t bathe as much as he really needed to.

I leaned back a little and reached for my tea perched on the edge of my desk. “Yeah. A dozen more or so. Why? Is it date-night with your mate?”

He swayed toward me a little, his eyes a little too wide, a touch manic.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded, his tone accusatory. “You plottin’ on me, girl? Tryin’ to get me out of here so that you can rig up a trap on my desk?” He stuck out a hammy finger, stained purple. “I know what you’re up to. No dud is going to catch me unawares. I’ve got eyes in the back of my head.” He half-turned to point. “I know all your tricks. Don’t think for one”—he squeezed his eyes shut with the force of the next word—“moment you can catch me with my hands tied!”

I let loose an annoyed breath, re-focusing on my task. Clearly, he’d sampled the product again. He was unreasonable when he was like this, paranoid I’d try to harm or kill him. It wasn’t him who needed eyes in the back of his head, though; it was me. I’d gotten very good at sensing when he was sneaking up on me with a knife or some other sharp object, trying to do the village a “favor” by getting rid of the dud, a slur for a shifter without magic.

“I’m not the one you should be worried about,” I warned. “Granny is in town. You can’t be sampling the product when she’s here. You know that.”

“Let me worry about her. I know what I’m about. You just mind your manners, filthy dud.”

I shook my head as he stared down at me. After a few moments of getting no response, he finally shuffled away.

As a rule, I didn’t create chemically addictive products. My life afforded me very few moral principles, so I stood by those I had carved out. The product could be habit-forming, though, if a person wasn’t careful. Raz wasn’t careful, not in the slightest. He hated his job, he hated his dependency on Granny, our benefactor, and most of all, he hated working with what he correctly suspected was a violent dud.

I didn’t know why he was so concerned. Without access to my animal, I didn’t have a shifter’s enhanced strength and speed. I couldn’t heal quickly. He had the advantage over me in every way. I’d gotten quick with a lot of practice, but that’s about all I had going for me. Well, practice, and honing my sixth sense regarding danger so I could anticipate when he would strike. The guy was delusional in all ways but one: the village definitely wanted the filthy dud gone. They’d all, at one time or another, made that quite clear.

Thank the gods for Granny’s protection. She wasn’t blood—everyone called her that—but she was my fairy godmother. She’d taken me in as a kid when I was on the brink of starvation, chased by dud-hating hordes, having no coin and nowhere to go. She gave me a home, found me this job, created connections with sketchy shadow markets and forced this village to (mostly) leave me be. She was my guardian angel. My divine intervention. I owed her everything.

I dropped the vine-wrapped leaf into the water before stopping for a quick sip of my lukewarm tea. Cup returned, I proceeded to wrap the next vine. Then the next. My mind drifted, conjuring up images that I might try to draw in charcoal. Before I knew it, I stared down at an empty desk with two more slices in my thumb.

I pulled a little jar from the top of my station, by the wall. The few petals within started its slow, mournful throb, glowing a pale, pastel pink. Or maybe ‘mournful’ was just my reaction to having picked the whole flower, thus condemning it to death. I should’ve taken a few petals and memorized the location so I could go back and pick more another time. The flowers were supposed to bloom all through spring and summer.

After unscrewing the jar, I delicately removed one of the petals and paused, holding it in my palm and watching the pretty glow intensify.

“That the Moonfire Lily?” Raz once again approached. He forgot to maintain his distance this time, his head cocked as he stared at the flower.

“Yeah. Pretty, isn’t it?”

He grunted, not tearing his eyes away.

I placed the flower onto a sturdy dish and headed to the hearth with its dainty flame.

“What are you going to—“ Raz cut off with a violent scream.

I jolted, nearly dropping the dish.

“What?!” I looked around in confusion, seeing the simple and well-organized interior of our work shed, save the chaos of his desk. “What’s the matter?”

“No! No, no, no, no!” He rushed toward me. I barely moved the dish in time to avoid his strike, cupping my hand over the petal so that it didn’t flutter to the ground. “You’ll kill the glow! You can’t kill the glow, it’ll destroy the world!”

He screamed again and spun in a circle, his face contorted in anguish and his pupils blown wide. Terror lined every inch of his body as he contemplated the fate of the flower.

“Great heavens, bub, you took too much.” I set the dish down on the nearest table. What a pain. When he got like this, he slowed everything down.

I held up my hands to show him they were now empty. By rule—another of my few principles—I didn’t make the product too extreme. To get to this level, he’d had to take two or more doses. He was starting to get out of hand.

“Okay, buddy.” I eased toward him slowly. If he wasn’t talked down, I’d have to lock him up. Otherwise, he’d probably turn violent and I wasn’t in the mood. “I apologize. I don’t want to kill the glow. I realize now that it would indeed end the world, yes. I’ve put it down, see?”

He leaned to the right, his head tilted, his eyes definitely manic.

“Let’s just take a breath and think about the emberflies...”

He leaned the other way, almost looking at me sideways. Great gods, the product had really gotten on top of him. His journey on this product had taken a sharp left turn and landed him into a field of nightmares. I might not be able to bring him out.

“Let’s drift like the emberflies?—“

He balled up his fists and shook them at the heavens, leaning back as he did so. “Who cares about the fucking emberflies! You’re trying to kill the glow!” he shouted, spittle flying. He tilted forward, stumbled, and barreled my way. One big fist swung out as he fell.

I dodged easily. His momentum carried him forward, his legs left behind. He hit the back wall headfirst and then fell to the ground. A moment later he scrambled up, howling like some enraged beast.

No, I would not be able to talk him around. Damn it.

“Good point,” I agreed in a soothing tone, moving fast toward the entrance. “The glow is the most important thing. Let’s focus on that glow. It’s outside. There’s more of the glow outside. Let’s go look at it, okay? I won’t touch it. We’ll just?—“

“I know your dirty tricks, you pig-faced monkey man!” He levelled a finger at me. His red face was screwed up in rage. “Your bag is out there, isn’t it? Isn’t it? You have your weapons stored just outside.”

My “weapons” consisted of everyday items, some so dangerous as a nail file. If he got in this state when the pack was inside, he’d empty it on the floor and hold up each item in turn, asking how I planned to kill him with it.

I’d just started leaving the thing outside, because yes, I could probably lodge a nail file in his eye or maybe even reach his kidney, but would I? No. I was only violent if I had no other options—principle number three.

“I don’t have a pack.” I kept my hands high. “See? No pack. I just want to say hi to the moon man. Want to say hi to the moon man with me?”

“I don’t trust you for one second. You’re trying to kill me like all the others. Oh yes, by the gods’ hammer stone, they’ve tried. They’ll never take me alive!“

Fantastic, I thought sarcastically. He’d turned nonsensical. This was when he got the most violent.

Plan B.

“Here’s the glow, here it is,” I said, moving toward the supply closet at the back. “It’s right here.”

He paused in his tirade, his head tilted to the side again, a little drool dribbling out of his mouth.

“Here, here’s the glow.” I motioned him over. “Right here.” I lifted the lid on a wicker basket where the rest of the petals had been stored. Their glow was in its zenith, pale in the room but enough to grab his attention.

“Yes,” he whispered, seeing them and homing in. Louder now. “Yes!”

I acted quickly as he neared. I hooked my foot on his right ankle and grabbed his meaty shoulders. He tripped and I guided his fall toward the supply closet where I kept my contraptions, the transformed apothecary mechanisms. Those on the lower shelves could be fixed by other villagers if he broke them. They’d had practice.

The shove I gave him sent him flailing through the opening. He crashed into a shelf, screaming again. I grabbed the door handle and pulled it shut before he could get his bearings and turn. I latched the door from my side, knowing there was a door at the back of the closet that led outside. It wasn’t locked. All he’d have to do was find it and free himself.

I doubted he’d figure out how for a few hours. He hadn’t in the past.

This was another of my principles: a way out. All products that induced a journey, whether it was good or bad in the moment, had an “off” switch. If a person hunkered down into a small, dark place, the drug’s effects on the brain would greatly recede. The drug would go dormant, in a way. The product didn’t leave the system, but it gave the brain a way to handle things a little better.

This was great for a person in Raz’s situation. Not so great if a person was having a lovely time and was just trying to get cozy. Couldn’t be helped.

Discovering that trick had been an accident, but once I realized its usefulness—to me first, and then to others—I baked the “off” switch into any product that might need it. Like this one.

He howled again, beating at the wood.

“Go to sleep,” I called through the door. “Settle down now and go to sleep. You can’t let Granny see you like this or she’ll punish you something awful.”

“You filthy dud!” he roared. “You dud-whore, locking me in here. You won’t take me alive!”

Sometimes the product made him all kinds of awful. Then again, some people were like this to me stone sober. It was something the magicless just had to get used to, like how the fair of skin dealt with sunburns. It was part of life. There was no sense in letting it get to you.

I took a deep breath, letting the adrenaline from the sudden episode level out before turning back to the Moonfire Lily. After grabbing a large stick from the hearth and ensuring the end had a flame, I took the dish outside and set it on the ground. The moon glowed weakly above, barely a sliver. Stars speckled the vast night sky. When I got home, I might open a bottle of port and sit out for a while, taking it all in. I loved these tranquil early spring nights; the air was still crisp with winter’s chill but held the promise of warmer days to come. Flowers bloomed for the first time since the fall, and it felt like the world was getting a fresh start.

Emberflies hovered and drifted, little glowing insects that looked like fairy dust softly swaying in the air. They weren’t spooked by anyone in our village. They only scattered when strangers or danger came around, which was often one and the same.

It would’ve been better to treat the petal at the full moon, but Granny wouldn’t want to wait. She didn’t have a lot of patience where the product was concerned. There was an increasing demand, and it was my duty to keep up.

A slight breeze rustled the petal. I held it down for a moment until all was calm again. As I hunched over the dish, I applied the flame.

The petal crackled. Its glow intensified, shimmering like the stars. The color changed from pale pink to vibrant magenta and then to blazing red. The fire on the end of the stick grew, a cue to pull it away. The petal continued to burn for a moment, the middle of it pulsing like an ember in a smoldering fire. Its perfume had changed, now verdant and earthy and wild; all things that teased the senses of a wolf on the hunt, or so I’d overheard. After a moment the flame and smell died away, leaving the color and continuing the ember-like soft glow.

I picked it up; the petal felt cool against my skin. The fire never seemed to heat it, just change it.

A strange tickle started between my shoulder blades. A slight pressure fanned out, over my shoulders and then crawling down my spine. It felt like someone was watching me.

Wary, I glanced back at the work shed, wondering if Raz had found his way out and was coming for me. No thrashing of limbs, howls, or stomping— all things he’d be doing if he’d escaped—accompanied the feeling, though. Couldn’t be him.

With the Moonfire Lily petal tucked into my cupped palms, I looked out at the darkness.

Trees stood sentry beyond the field next to the shed, hiding the creek that gurgled within their depths. An old fence with awkwardly leaning posts and a gate in the middle divided the land for no discernible reason. My various tubs were placed in an organized fashion, some against the shed and others out in the night, against the fence. They were set to catch the moonlight or the sunlight, or both. I’d learned those things had an effect on the end product.

I’d learned young to pay attention to my sixth sense, keeping it fresh in my life here. The feeling of being watched grew, as though a predator were focusing hard.

The night lay quiet. Nothing made a sound. The soft breeze hardly worried my hair.

Still, it felt like someone was out there, a foreign density within the shadows. The emberflies didn’t seem troubled, though. They would scatter if a threat was within their midst; I’d seen it happen when Granny brought in a new person for the perimeter patrol.

I tipped my face down. My eyes were no good to me. I couldn’t see in the darkness like those with magic could. Continuing to stare would just alert the possible watcher that I’d sensed their presence. They might then get bold and come closer. There were a few people in this village that would, even with Granny in town, and those were the last people I’d want to do so.

I turned for the work shed. As I crossed the threshold, I heard muttering coming from the supply closet. Clearly Raz was still in there, now calming down. Hopefully he hadn’t broken much.

I set about picking the burnt flower petal apart. That done, I crushed it with a pestle and mortar. Here again the fragrant aromas drifted up, so pleasant. I wanted this smell for my cottage. Maybe to transform it into a perfume. A candle, even...

Yeah, right. Granny would never let me waste my time on something like that. Candles didn’t bring in the kind of gold my product did, and if I was in the work shed, I needed to be making sellable products. Those were the rules.

I wondered if I could make candles at home...

I poured the crushed petal into a jar to keep it safe, helping the last remnants in with my fingers. Once it was done and lidded, ready for me to work with it tomorrow, I sat back and finished my tea.

“It’s got my leg!” Raz screeched. “Help me, it’s eating my leg!”

“Fuck’s sake,” I murmured. “You took way too much. Way too much.” Then louder. “The beast will sleep when you do! Show it how to sleep!”

I rubbed an itchy nose, scenting the Moonfire Lily again. My fingers smelled a little too much like it, actually, like pollen when all the flowers were in bloom.

My sneeze quieted Raz for some reason. Small miracles.

As I finished my tea and set my cup down, I hauled myself up. Raz was in charge of taking the nightly satchel to Granny when she was in town, a trip she made every few months or so. Given he was not fit to exist outside of that closet, let alone interact with his boss and benefactor, that left me. If it didn’t mean I’d get to see and chat with Granny, I’d have been severely annoyed.

I tidied everything up before stopping by the unused front workstation. It would’ve been nice if we could’ve found someone to occupy this space and help me with the creations, but sadly no one else showed an affinity for the technical aspect of the job. Not even Raz. He was primarily the plant guy. He had a few helpers in the garden and we both had a few runners for supplies, but otherwise the duty to make the product mostly fell to me.

So far, that was fine. I was keeping up, albeit barely. Hopefully orders didn’t continue to increase. I was already working every day, often sun up to sundown. Given I didn’t have family and no one would suffer my friendship, I didn’t mind. It gave me something to do. Besides, I owed Granny everything. I’d reach for the moon if she needed me to. But if orders continued to increase, I knew eventually there just wouldn’t be enough time in the day. At that point, I’d need to bring in some help. I’d have no choice.

A fern-green, velvet sack waited on top of the workstation, tied with a pull-string at the top. I pulled it open and filled it with four new products, two of which I’d adjusted from the original version for a better experience. That brought our total to twenty products, including everything from a sleep aid to a relaxant to the fun-time hallucination creation.

Not all of these were explicitly against the laws of the land. The sleep aid, for example, rivaled something the dragon kingdom sold. Mine worked better. The relaxant? The faerie product couldn’t hold a candle to it, try as they might. Those really could’ve sold in the more medicinal markets. The other stuff? Well, those were the reason Granny sold everything through the shadow markets. Guilt by association, I guess.

It was fine. Even the unlawful stuff wasn’t expressly dangerous or life-threatening. Not like some of the other items in the shadow markets. None of my product’s effects would linger after the drug had worn off... except for maybe a questionable life change like Herold becoming “Razorfang.” For the nightmare journeys there was the “way out” I’d devised. I’d told Granny to pass that on to everyone who sold the product, and for them to pass it on to anyone who bought it. My conscience was clear. I didn’t lose any sleep at night over being a criminal. And if I did? Sleep-aid!

“My life is definitely not a fairy tale,” I murmured, picking up the velvet pack.

Under it, a scrap of paper held Raz’s handwritten scrawl: “Don’t veer off the path.”

My brow lowered as I read it again.

My eye started to twitch.

“Very funny, Raz,” I said, not caring if I excited the little beasties in his brain again. “Very fucking funny. It was only the one time, by the way.” A thud sounded against the wall in the closet. “Just the one time and everyone is a funny guy, huh? No one is going to let me forget it. You get stuffed in a closet, for fuck’s sake, and this is the thing everyone remembers?”

“Don’t veer off the path!” he shouted, clearly knowing what I was talking about. Manic laughter followed me toward the door.

One time. Seriously, I’d veered off the trail one time out of the thousand I’d walked it and it was all anyone talked about. There had been a good reason, too! I’d seen the glow of the Moonfire Lily from the path. They were incredibly hard to spot, often hiding between and under other flora, its glow usually contained unless you were right on top of it. If I hadn’t grabbed it then, I might’ve lost it.

Sure, I accidentally fell over a log, doused my lantern, left it, and made a mad dash for the flower. I admit I might’ve lost my head a little. It happens.

And okay, yes, after picking the flower and then standing in pitch black as its throb ebbed, I had gotten a little turned around and then couldn’t find where I’d left the fallen lantern. I shouldn’t have left it behind. That was stupid, I could admit.

But what was I supposed to have done at that point, just stand there all night and hope someone would have come to find me? No. I’d done what any rational person with a terrible sense of direction would do—I’d decided to walk until I found either the village or the perimeter line and our sentries. I had known I’d stumble into one or the other eventually.

It was not my fault that the perimeter patrol thought I was trying to sneak out without an escort. They hadn’t given me a chance to explain what had happened; they’d just tossed me over their shoulder and marched me back to Granny.

It had all worked out in the end, though. Even though leaving without permission hadn’t been my intention, I’d gracefully accepted the punishment: a hardcore beating by Granny’s watchdog, Alexander.

Crisis averted.

Did everyone really need to keep bringing it up? Literally every time I had to take the path to see her in town—every single time—it was mentioned. It had been two months! It was past getting old.

Besides, I’d gotten the flower. Given the enhancements I was already making with it and my ideas for new product, it had been a stroke of genius leaving that path, questionable decision-making along the way not-withstanding.

On a little table by the door stood my faerie-made lantern. I grabbed the handle as I exited. Outside, I tapped the top three times quickly, then two slow, followed by rubbing the base. Lights flickered a metallic blue within the shiny metal before burning brighter and brighter until the whole thing glowed indigo with swirling patches of lighter and darker blues. The effect was as beautiful as it was useful, the lantern a prized gift from Granny.

Despite the situation that led me to traipsing this path so late at night, I felt lighter, content, my heart swelling at the thought of seeing Granny. She wasn’t just my benefactor and savior; she looked out for me, provided protection from the outside world, and ensured I had all I needed. She wasn’t blood, but I thought of her as family—the only family I had left. I took every opportunity available to meet with her when she visited, chatting and soaking in her proximity.

Her cottage was a fifteen minute walk from the work shed. The indigo glow illuminated the wide tree trunks on either side of the path. The trees now crowded me closely and a hush permeated the area as crickets, night birds, and other creatures stilled or quieted within my vicinity. Ancient trees leaned far over me and strangled what little light the moon shed. Branches entwined along the sides as though in an intricate dance. With each step, the forest floor surrendered below my feet, cushioning my passage as though the path itself remembered me. Not surprising given the number of times I’d walked this route.

With the lantern held aloft, I reached the fork. To go left would take me back to the village, on the outskirts of which was my modest home. I veered right toward Granny’s cottage, a solitary dwelling that never got many visitors, as was her choice. I was one of the few. If she had business with someone—a rare occurrence—she went into the village to speak with them directly. Otherwise, she kept the village fed and clothed, ensured their houses were in repair, and saw to everyone’s needs. We wanted for nothing. All we had to do was make certain the product was quality and consistently ready for pick-up.

The path narrowed until it was hardly more than the width of a person. The glow of my lantern struggled within the oppressive darkness, the night pushing back at the light.

I trekked on as the emberflies gradually dwindled, slipping between the trunks and then behind without daring to peek back out at me. Their numbers would dwindle even further the closer I got to Granny’s. They didn’t continue their drifting too far away from the village, it seemed. No one had any idea why.

My soft footfall invaded the pervasive hush as my gaze wandered to the left. It was at about this spot that I’d spied the Moonfire Lily’s glow in the trees. Surprising, given how choked with vegetation and foliage the land was. It had somehow been able to glimmer through the reaching ferns and tangled vines and moss. The books said that for every flower you were able to find, there were five nestled close by, waiting for discovery.

That’s about all the information about the flower the books contained, except for the effects of using its altered, burned petal in brews, elixirs, and potions. It was an enhancement; that’s all the books said. Given the vast quantity of books I’d read about plants and their uses—all acquired from various places by Granny—and the startling lack of information on the Moonfire Lily in comparison, I had a feeling it could do so much more. Figuring out what, though, would require time for experimentation. Time I definitely did not have. Still, the enhancement portion of its powers served me well.

Walking slowly, eyes scanning both sides of the path, I watched for another plant. My focus was so acute that I almost didn’t notice that strange feeling again, like I’d felt at the work shed. Tingles washed over me, as though someone were watching my progress.

My breath halted in my lungs as a warning prickle crawled along my spine. My body froze in fear, steps ceasing. I strained, listening for movement. My knees trembled along with my hand, cold and clammy, holding the lantern up.

The emberflies started to move. A wave washed over the path in front of me, exiting left. Behind, the bugs headed in the same direction, slow at first and then fleeing madly. I’d never seen them move so fast.

Terror gripped my heart. I felt it in every inch of my body. It wasn’t just me; they felt it, too.

Danger!

I spun, starting to jog toward Granny’s house. If there was danger present, she’d handle it. Worst case, she’d know what to do to escape it. Even though she was getting on in years, she was still an alpha wolf. She had thwarted raids in the past, when other packs had invaded her businesses, intent on grabbing anything or anyone of worth. She had experience with these things. She’d know if there was a breach and she’d probably already be working on defenses-turned-attack strategies. I just had to make it to her cottage and I’d be okay.

The lantern’s glow danced wildly on the path, making the shadows lurch and jump. My foot hit a divot and my ankle rolled. I compensated immediately, carrying my weight in that direction and stepping with the other foot to keep my ankle from bending too far. Too late. Tingles replaced what probably should’ve been pain, my tolerance for pain incredibly high. My foot wasn’t accepting much of my weight.

Greatly slowed but not deterred, I limped on. I didn’t care about a sprained ankle. It would heal eventually. Granny had procured the best healing ointments and elixirs gold could buy, all the way from the dragon kingdom. Anything short of a severed leg would be fine, and even that would be preferable to what would happen if a raid captured me. I was the anyone of value they’d be seeking. Granny had taken painstaking efforts to ensure I knew what might happen to me if I was taken. What they’d do to make me cooperate. How they’d treat me when they found out I had no magic.

What I’d be forced to endure if the pack leader was male.

Tears of fear prickled my eyes as I hobble-jogged. That feeling of being watched continued, a constant itch between my shoulder blades. Whatever was there was keeping pace.

I was nearly at the bend, almost there, when the toe on my good leg hit a rock. My momentum kept going, driving me forward. My bad ankle rolled again.

I hit the dirt hard. My lantern clattered against the ground. The light winked out and pitch black washed over me.

“Shit,” I swore softly, patting the ground frantically, searching for it. “Shit, shit.”

The air thickened with an eerie stillness, interrupted only by my erratic breathing. I felt movement off to the side. Felt it, as though a string connected me to a presence in some way. A person.

A predator.

I reached farther, my shaking fingers trailing across the dirt. Wherever the lantern had landed, it was out of reach.

My movements were the only sounds I could hear. I felt it, though, those eyes raking over me. That presence drifting closer. The danger made my heart beat like that of a cornered rabbit.

My primal instincts were fine-tuned to cataloging threats and sensed the presence stopped just beyond the trees. That presence waited, and tingles danced down my spine again. It watched. In indecision? I couldn’t tell. I didn’t know what it wanted, or what it was doing. It had to be human, though. I felt that about it, a specific sort of danger that animals couldn’t duplicate. An intelligent sort of peril. The anticipation of what was about to happen seeped into my bones, making my entire body shudder.

Something else happened, though, too. A strange sort of heat flowered in my chest, like liquid fire dribbling down my middle. Strange currents of scent greeted my nose, too many to really decipher. The thick black of the night lightened minutely, as though pulling back, leaving room for shadows.

And then the presence stepped forward, some sort of decision made.

Adrenaline coursed through me as he neared, because it was a he. I had no idea how I knew, but like knowing his presence was there in the first place, I felt it. Felt him. His movements created nothing more than a whisper in the night, not a sound accentuating his passage. He stopped in front of me, where I knelt in the dirt at his feet. His height loomed over me while the heat of his body slid along my exposed flesh, cocooning me in his warmth. I swam in it, feeling his overwhelming power, his coiled strength.

Fucking hell, this actually felt amazing. Which meant it couldn’t be real. Something had changed. Even though I felt the predator, the danger, I no longer felt threatened by it. I wanted it nearer, actually. I wanted to pull it toward me.

What was happening? Had I somehow accidentally sampled my own product? Because if he’d slipped by Granny’s defenses, he’d either grab the product or grab me. He wouldn’t wander around this territory so lackadaisically, with no fear of being discovered.

“Look at me,” a deep, gruff voice commanded, and the effect washed over me like a pleasure bath.

His magic wound through me, delicious and exhilarating, like washing in a cool mountain spring on a warm evening, when everything was freshly in bloom. I closed my eyes within it for a moment, taking my time to savor the feeling before I did look up, sightlessly. Obediently.

Moments passed as he looked down upon me. Studied me.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

His heat settled low now, an ache forming in my core. I almost reached out for reasons I couldn’t quite explain. I wanted to feel him. To run my fingers along his skin. Grasp his straining cock.

What in the holy fuck was happening to me? This couldn’t be any product I’d created, accidentally ingested or not. I didn’t have anything with an effect like this.

Then it occurred to me. The Moonfire Lily! I’d had it on my fingers. I’d been inhaling strong currents of its delicious smell. Maybe I’d ingested it, transferring it to my teacup and sipping it off. Was it causing this strange erotic fever dream? Was I actually on the trail by myself, kneeling in front of nothing, following commands issued by an invisible lover while danger prowled the wood?

Old gods help me, I really fucking hoped so. It was better than the alternative, which was that I was bowing before a predator, desperate to be fucked.

I squinted my eyes shut and lowered my head, willing this all to go away. Willing my mind to eat through the drug and reduce or stop the effects, something I’d learned to do over the years.

“Never bow to me,” came that deep, erotic voice full of power and authority.

Fingers touched the bottom of my chin, applying pressure, tilting my head back up. I didn’t open my eyes this time, as I still fought the effects of what had to be that Moonfire Lily. Quite the saucy little plant, I had to say. Very bad timing for a journey I was not prepared for, though. I would’ve rather traveled the path of this drug in the privacy of my cottage, stripped nude and spread wide, imaging this stranger tracing each curve of my body with his sensuous touch. I had a very good imagination when it came to these things.

Pressure filled my chest now, like someone was sitting on it. Heat was all around me, all through me. I practically vibrated with it. My pussy was so wet, wanting to be filled so badly.

“Kneel,” the luscious voice commanded.

I was fucking kneeling. That’s what it meant when you were on your knees on a path that hopefully no one else would be traveling tonight.

The presence walked around me and I could just barely hear his footsteps. And that smell—was that him? Warm sandalwood with a dark and forbidden smoky undertone. Hints of jasmine. Of sin. It lingered in my senses, manifesting the desire raging through my body. It put the smell of the Moonfire Lily to absolute shame.

“Please go away,” I murmured, willing this journey to recede. For the drug to withdraw its effects. I liked it, I couldn’t deny that, but now was not the time. I needed to figure out why the emberflies took off. “Go away,” I murmured.

I could end the journey of every single drug I’d made for the last five years. Every one, even those that had locked Raz in paralyzing nightmares until I’d shoved him into the supply closet. This one should be no different, regardless of the fact it seemed to be purely the plant without any sort of additive or alteration.

“Stop this. Go away,” I said again, more firmly, willing it to be so.

The presence stepped up right behind me. Leaned over me, intimidating, exciting... dangerous. His mouth neared the shell of my ear, his breath stirring the sensitive nerves on the back of my neck.

“Do you really want that?” His voice was low and silky, eliciting a delicious concoction of warning and desire. “Or should I stay long enough to give you the satisfaction you crave?”

It somehow felt so much more intense that he wasn’t touching me; his words, his scent, his breath caressing me in ways I couldn’t seem to fight. I tried valiantly, but he was more intoxicating than any manufactured drug, and possibly just as potent.

Go away.

He straightened, as though hearing the words I couldn’t seem to utter.

Fuck off.

He stepped back, giving me space. A chill accosted me, leaving me feeling bereft without his proximity. There he stood patiently, waiting.

I clenched my fists, squeezed my eyes shut, and willed my mouth to give the command.

Unfortunately, my body was calling the shots.

“Fuck me,” I whispered.