Chapter Seven
ABBY
HELLO, HUMAN.
I half-expected the man’s voice to sound light and airy, something otherworldly to match the rest of his complexion, but it’s deep and masculine instead—surprisingly so.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, hoping he can’t sense my nerves, and give a jerky nod.
The man’s smile grows, his full lips spreading to reveal a set of perfect, white teeth. He’s still holding his keys, and he shoves them into his pocket before clasping his hands behind his back.
I spare a glance at the door he just emerged from. It’s wooden and tall, and the very top is arched. The faeries really like their arches. It’s not a door to one of the storefronts, though, so I assume this opens to a stairwell leading to the second-story apartments.
The man turns, following my gaze, and my cheeks redden as I realize I’ve been caught staring at his door. He probably thinks I’m contemplating a break-in. I’m not entirely against it. I bet he’s got food up there, and I’m starving. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for a warm meal right about now.
“You look nervous,” the faerie points out. He cocks his head to the side. “How can I help you?”
I clear my throat. “I’m looking for directions.” How good is faerie hearing? Can he hear how hard my heart is beating? I fiddle with my fingers as I continue. “I’m trying to get to the Redstall Forest.”
I’m not going to explain why, though. I don’t know nearly enough about this realm, and I don’t want to share too much information and draw any unwanted attention to myself. That’s a surefire way of getting in trouble.
The faerie raises an eyebrow, and his lips grow taut as he pushes a strand of his hair over his shoulder. His violet eyes are piercing, the color so much more vibrant than Lill’s have ever been. Hers were maybe similar to this color when we were children, but they were never quite this magnetic.
It must be a result of magic, and it takes everything I have not to gawk.
“The Redstall Forest?” he asks. “And what would a human like you be looking for there?”
What is that supposed to mean? How does he know I’d be looking for something there? Maybe it’s just a figure of speech, but maybe not. I’m reading into this too much, I’m faintly aware of that, but I can’t stop.
I do know I don’t want to look confused or frightened, though, so I plaster a broad smile on my face and let out a short laugh.
“A human like me ?” I tease. “Should I be insulted?”
The corner of his lip twitches. “Not at all,” he drawls, “but Redstall is no place for a fragile woman like yourself. You’ll be eaten alive.”
I’m not sure if I should take that literally or not. I hope not.
The faerie shifts his weight from foot to foot, but it’s not a nervous gesture. He exudes confidence, which isn’t surprising. He has the power in this exchange, and I’m sure he knows it.
His gaze travels again to my backpack, and I tighten my grip on the straps. Do they not have backpacks here? Maybe he’s thinking about robbing me. I need everything in this bag—it’s all I have, and I’m not letting somebody take it without a fight.
I’m not above biting.
“And how do you intend to get to Redstall?” the man asks, finally looking away from my backpack. “You’ll be hard-pressed to find somebody willing to bring you there.”
Why? I shrug, not giving a verbal answer. It’s none of his business, and I just need him to point me in the right direction.
The faerie frowns. “It’s a several-hour ride from here.”
Well, fuck . His use of the word ride suggests a horse, and I don’t have one of those. How long will it take me to travel there on foot? A full day, at least. I don’t have time for that. Lill’s depending on me. Her life depends on my ability to collect delysum and get back to her in a timely manner.
The faerie stares at me, and I have the feeling he’s trying to read me just as much as I’m trying to read him. Can he tell something is off about me? Is it peculiar that I don’t know where the Redstall Forest is? I’m sure I’m not the first person he’s ever encountered with a lousy sense of direction.
I lick my lips, faintly aware that I’m beginning to sweat.
This isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.
The man shrugs. “There’s a break in the wall at Farbay, but there are rumors that the princes are preparing to travel to the gods’ realm, and they’ll be doing that through the portal in the forest. If the rumors are true, it will be next to impossible to sneak in undetected.”
I suck my cheeks into my mouth. That sentence makes no sense to me, but it raises several concerns. What is this wall he speaks of, and why would I need to sneak into the forest? Is this some sort of sacred forest where humans aren’t allowed? Is that why he wanted to know what a human wants to do there?
Also, there’s a portal in the forest? Can I use it to return home?
Despite my attempts to remain calm, I fear my panicked confusion must show. The faerie furrows his brows, looking almost confused by my confusion.
“Where are you from?” he asks.
I twist my hands around my backpack straps.
“I’m from the human realm, as I’m sure you can tell,” I say, trying to keep the conversation light as I gesture to myself. “My family came here when I was young, and we settled in a small town down south.”
“Down south?”
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “It’s a small town. You’ve never heard of it.”
The faerie’s lips curl into another smile, and I know I’ve been caught in a lie. I can see it in the victorious glint in his eye, and I mentally curse. I’m fucking this all up.
The man glances at his hands, drawing attention to them. He’s wearing gloves, ones I haven’t noticed before. They’re flesh-colored and look to be made of leather, and they end low on his wrists. They’re discreet, and I wouldn’t have noticed them had he not looked at his hands.
“You’re a poor liar,” he says.
I’m becoming painfully aware of that. I remain silent, waiting for him to continue speaking. I won’t dig myself into a deeper grave by trying to explain myself. I haven’t done anything wrong, and I don’t have to answer to this man.
“You’re not wearing gloves,” he points out.
I drop my arms and clasp my hands behind my back, hiding them from his view. I would’ve packed a pair had I known it was part of their culture, and I mentally curse Lill for what feels like the hundredth time today. I wouldn't be this unprepared if she had been more forthcoming with information about the faerie realm.
What a bitch.
The faerie holds eye contact with me as he removes his gloves, revealing pale, well-manicured hands. What’s he doing?
Does he need his hands free to cast a magical spell on me? The magic swirling in the air between us doesn’t react to his exposed skin, so I don’t think he’s doing anything with it, but I’m very quickly learning this world isn’t anything like I thought it would be.
It’s not the most comforting realization to make.
The man tucks his gloves into the same pocket he put his keys in earlier.
“Do you not wear gloves because you’re open to being touched?” he asks.
I recoil, the reaction involuntary. What the fuck are my lack of gloves signaling to the people here? If I don’t get myself murdered or thrown into jail, I’m going to fucking kill Lill.
My palms are sweaty, and I nervously glance around the street. There’s nobody around to see us, not one faerie to be found in any direction. I should never have approached this man.
He clearly has some sort of agenda. If he tries anything, I’ll scream.
I’ll be damned if I go down without a fight. I’ll kick and scream and bite, and if he tries to rape me, I’ll shit my pants. I doubt he’ll want to deal with that mess.
There’s a utility knife in my bag, and if I make it out of this interaction alive, I will be shoving it into the waistband of my leggings. I should have done that before stepping foot into this town, but there’s no way I’ll be able to grab it now.
It’s buried at the bottom of my bag, underneath my sweatshirt and my food.
The man clears his throat and steps away. He looks nervous, which isn’t the reaction I’m expecting. I’m so confused, I could cry.
“Are you not searching for a mate?” he asks.
A mate? What the hell is he talking about? Like a mate, mate? That term is popular in the fantasy romance books I enjoy reading, but there’s no way he means it in the way they use it. Lill’s listened to me talk and complain about my books hundreds of thousands of times, and there’s no way she wouldn’t have mentioned faeries having mates.
It would be absurd not to mention it, especially when we’ve had millions of conversations about how romantic the concept is.
The man runs a hand through his hair, still looking confused.
“You’re not wearing gloves,” he points out.
If this is the reaction my bare hands are going to get, I need to find a pair of gloves as quickly as possible. I’m not against seducing a man if it’ll help me get to the Redstall Forest and find some damned delysum, but I don’t want to be walking around signaling to the entire faerie realm that I’m a prostitute in search of a mate.
“Have dinner with me?” the man abruptly asks, changing the subject. “You clearly don’t belong here, but if you eat with me, I’ll answer your questions and give you a pair of gloves.”
I scrunch my brows, having trouble believing and trusting him. I’ve known him for two minutes, and he’s already asked if he could touch me. That’s abnormal behavior.
The man sighs quietly before sliding his gloves back up his hands.
“I’m Samuel,” he says, introducing himself. “And I didn’t mean to frighten you. Unmated faeries always wear gloves, and it’s tradition to remove them when encountering another with bare hands. It signals that they’re open to finding their mate.”
His voice grows quiet, and he looks mildly uncomfortable as he rubs the back of his neck.
“People will think you’re flirting with them if you aren’t wearing gloves,” he explains. “And you should know that faeries don’t care what kind of trouble you got into in the human realm. Being honest that you’re here to escape punishment will be better received than your half-concocted, transparent lies.”
I press my lips together, unsure what to say. Samuel has no problem filling the silence for me.
“Besides”—he chuckles—“I’m not in the business of questioning the decisions of the faerie powerful enough to bring you here. Opening a portal between our realms is serious work.”
My mind is racing a million miles a minute. This guy thinks I came here to escape punishment in the human realm, and it couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m sure not going to tell him that, though.
He just gave me the perfect alibi.
He also inadvertently told me that only powerful faeries can open portals between the human and faerie realms, which I assume means getting home will be a nightmare. That’s a tidbit of information I won’t stress about until later, though.
“How about that dinner?” Samuel repeats his earlier invitation.
I hesitate, still not liking the way he asked to touch me. It may be a common question amongst the faeries, and I may have accidentally provoked it by not wearing gloves, but it was still unnerving.
“Why?”
Samuel shrugs. “Because I’m hoping you’ll allow me to touch you afterward.”
At least he’s honest. That’s more than I can say for many of the human men I’ve had the misfortune of knowing.
“Where do you want to touch me?” I ask.
He knows I’m new here, so there’s no point in pretending to know anything about their customs. Besides, I’m not going to agree to a damn thing until I’m sure he isn’t going to try to shove his hands down my pants the second we finish eating.
I’m only considering this because I’m starving.
Samuel gestures to my hands. “Mate bonds are triggered by touch. It’s traditionally intimate, a caress of the cheek or a kiss, but I’ll know if you’re mine by feeling your hand.”
I pause, mulling over his answer. He buys me food, answers my questions, and gives me a pair of gloves, and all I have to do is let him touch my hand? That sounds too good to be true.
“Touch my hand with what?” I ask.
Samuel’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink as he realizes what I’m asking. If he tries telling me I’ve got to put my hand on his dick, I’m out of here.
“With my hand,” he clarifies. “Are humans usually this crass?”
I shrug. “Some of us are.”
I’m okay being crass if it prevents me from being taken advantage of.
Samuel shakes his head, still waiting for my answer, and I think it over before giving a curt nod. I’m not in a position to turn down food and answers, and the gloves will be helpful if they prevent this conversation from happening with anybody else in the future.
“I can do dinner,” I say. “But I can’t stay for long.”
Samuel grins, looking awfully pleased with himself, before stepping to the side and gesturing for me to walk alongside him.