Chapter 5 #3
“I don’t know about you,” he said, scanning the trees like they might offer an escape, “but I’m being recklessly honest.” He shook his head “We were all born into roles and obligations. They more than us, but we’re Betas to their Alphas.
” His voice dropped. “And one of our duties, among others, is to keep the bloodline pure.”
Beth’s stomach turned. She’d heard Elara rant about elven traditions before, the way they clung to ancient rules like lifelines. She’d never thought those rules would touch her, though. Her lips parted, fury right there, rising in her chest like a storm, when he cut in again.
“Do you know how short the jump from curiosity to obsession is?”
Thrown off, she blinked. “No.”
“It’s incredibly short.” His grip on her hand tightened, then softened again like he regretted the impulse. “Do you know when I took that jump?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Litha.” He exhaled hard. “That night, after what I told Val, something snapped. I’d told myself it was fine, that watching you was enough. But it wasn’t. It isn’t. Seeing you smile, watching you thrive, it made me happy, yes, but also restless. I needed more.”
He was speaking plain English, but still, none of it clicked.
Her thoughts were a whirl of emotion and half-formed warnings.
“I left something awful behind,” she said, stepping back.
“And I promised myself I wouldn’t walk into someone else’s chaos.
This feels like chaos with rules I don’t know and consequences I don’t understand. ”
He didn’t argue, didn’t fight her frustration. He just stood there, his eyes fixed on hers like they could anchor the moment. “I’m sorry,” he said. “To me, it’s all so clear. I didn’t realize how confusing it must sound.”
Beth flung her hands out. “Yeah, well, it is. So either say what you mean, or let’s just stop this before it becomes something that hurts.”
She turned to walk.
“Wait.”
She stopped. Slowly turned back. Arms crossed, heart pounding and was faced once again with a High Elf in all his authority.
“You are a human waitress, and I’m elven royalty.
My mother’s disapproval is only one ripple in a sea of consequences,” he stated, hard.
“The bloodline would be altered. Promises I’ve never made but bind me would be broken.
Centuries of tradition would forever be changed.
” He stepped forward to tower over her and took her hand to rest it over his thundering heart, looking at her like she was both salvation and the fire about to destroy him.
“And I still want you. Desperately enough that I’d burn it all to give us a chance. ”
“A... a chance?”
“Yes,” he said, quiet but firm. “I’m not asking for promises. I’m just asking you to take me—just me, not the title, not the family—and see what I can be. With you. For you. And we’ll fight the rest when it comes.”
It was kind of reasonable. Basically, it was the elven way of saying, Hey, let’s see where this goes. Of course, Gael being Gael, it sounded like they were about to trade souls. Which shouldn’t have been so enticing, honestly. But that was a thought for another day.
“I am not good at talking to people outside of my job or my family,” he continued. “I hated seeing you with Bryn because he’s dangerous, but also because I know he can be charming even without using his powers, while I’m... not. And then there I was, cutting pears with you.”
Beth huffed. “You were charming. I hated that.”
His smile widened, crooked and genuine. “I know.” Then, softly, he pulled her into his arms.
“I can be that. For you. I want you, Beth, in a way that doesn’t care about rules or roles.” He took a breath like the next part was a sacred oath. “Don’t say anything yet. I know it’s a lot and that you need time. But my understanding is that’s what dating is for.”
Beth blinked up at him, lips twitching despite everything. “How human of you.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No,” she murmured. “You’re not.”
“Good.”
And then he kissed her.
It started hesitant, a question in the shape of his mouth. But she answered—God, did she—and leaned into him, into the heat, the gravity of it all. His lips moved against hers with reverence, like he was trying to memorize the tangibility of wanting her.
Her fingers curled into his shirt. His hand slid to the base of her spine. And when he deepened the kiss, coaxing her open, his tongue brushing hers, her knees went a little weak. Her heart was embarrassingly loud, surely he could hear it, but she didn’t stop.
She didn’t want to. Not now. Not when she finally knew what it felt like to be wanted not for the value of her last name, but for who she was.
Darn it his self-control, he inched away way too early to kiss her forehead and smile at her like he’d just granted him heaven. “You’re temptation in flesh,” he murmured.
She couldn’t help the words. “Not quite enough, as it seems.”
“Neither of us is comfortable with hurried things, and today it’s already been surprise enough.” His lips covered hers in a sweet, full contact. “I don’t want regrets between us.”
“I know, I know. It’s just...” She chuckled a frustrated laugh. “It’s just.”
Again he took her hand and kissed it. “It’s just.”
And they continued along the trail, conversation flowing as easily as the path beneath their feet.
There was never a lull–Gael had an endless stream of questions about her life in Mystic Hollow.
What she liked about it. Who she spent time with.
How her garden got to be the way it was.
Apparently, he’d been sneakily gathering Beth Lore from Aryon and Elara for years, and now he casually cross-referenced his secret stash with the real thing.
Half-smug, half-curious, he didn’t prod into her past, giving it a respectful berth that let her relax even more.
And when she asked about him and his life in the capital, he never held back.
The sun was high overhead by the time they reached a stream.
It wasn’t massive, but it was wide and deep enough to demand caution.
Wading through would mean soaking up to the waist and trusting slick rocks.
The current wasn’t wild, but it moved fast enough to make you think twice.
Water splashed over scattered stones, catching the sunlight in golden flashes.
Trees leaned in close on both sides, and the air was thick with the scent of wet earth and moss, tinged with mineral.
Beth frowned, planting her hands on her hips. “Wasn’t there a makeshift bridge here? Like, not a real one, but enough logs piled up that you could kind of walk across?”
Gael surveyed the bank with a quiet hum. “There was. But nature reclaims what she lends. Looks like the river took it back.”
“How did Elara and Emma get across? Did they?”
He crouched, running a hand through the dirt near the waterline. “Yeah. I see their tracks, and I can smell Elara’s scent lingering.”
Beth tilted her head. “Not Emma’s?”
“Vampires are apex predators,” he said easily, like that explained everything. “Having a scent makes you noticeable.”
A giggle slipped out before she could stop it, and Gael glanced at her. “What?”
“It’s dumb.”
“I enjoy dumb things.”
She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Okay. Could a powerful elf take a vampire in a fight?”
He blinked. Then burst out laughing, an actual, shoulders-shaking, honest laughter. It lit up his face in a way that warmed her from the inside out. “You’re basically asking if Aryon or Elara could beat up Emma.”
“That wasn’t exactly the phrasing,” she muttered.
“They are the strongest elves, and she’s the only vampire. Well, Rick too but he’s younger.”
“True. So, yes?”
Still grinning, Gael cupped her face gently in both hands, thumbs grazing her cheeks. “Elves aren’t predators. We protect and nurture nature because nature’s spirit and power live within ourselves.”
She gave him a flat look, then leaned forward and pressed a tiny kiss to his mouth. Being able to do that made her dizzy, so she focused on the topic at hand. “Which is your way of admitting that Emma could mop the floor with the High Lord or the High Lady.”
He arched one elegant brow. “You might want to ask Emma.”
“No way. You’re serious?”
He just tapped two fingers against her lips. “Ask her. It’s a much better story coming from the protagonist.”
She huffed but relented. Yes, she really wanted to hear that story. But more urgently, she wanted food. Her rumbling stomach was very clear about it. Elara carried lunch for all, and unfortunately, they were on the wrong side of the river.
Beth turned to the water, squinting at the shimmering surface. “Okay. But seriously... how did they get past?”
“In one leap, most likely,” Gael said.
Beth stared at the river again, then shot him a look. “It’s like... twenty feet.”
He nodded calmly. “A little over that, yes.”
She eyed the few jagged rocks poking out midstream, barely there, slick with rushing water. They practically screamed bruised tailbone and lost shoe. “Well, I guess this is where I wait. Without a bridge, there’s no way I’m making that.”
His eyebrows lifted, like she’d suggested waiting out a blizzard in a bikini. “I’ll carry you.”
He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. To him, maybe it was. To her? Not even close. “You want to carry me.”
“Of course.”
Beth glanced back at the river. Then at him.
More specifically, at his body. Long lines and tight muscle, a dancer made of iron.
Elven grace made him look ethereal, but underneath?
He was power, iron, and sinew. How would it feel to be wrapped around him?
To have that body pressed on her, skin to skin? Or to–
“I’d be concerned about your perusal,” he said, a lazy smile tugging at his lips, “if I couldn’t see your aura. Or read your emotions. Or smell your reaction to me. Which, I might add, I’m enjoying immensely.”
“There’s really no hiding anything from you, huh?”