Chapter 9 Leonardo
LEONARDO
The family home shouldn’t be this quiet.
Not on this night. Not under a full moon, blessed for the hunt.
Tonight isn’t about mortal costumes and candy. For our kind, All Hallows’ Eve is instinct and hunger—when bonded mates run free and chase to remember the first claim. One flees, one hunts, and when they meet, the world stands still. It’s not a tradition, it’s our nature remembering itself.
And may the Gods help anyone who comes between us tonight.
Walking up the stairs, I keep my steps light as I enter our bedroom, but it’s empty.
The entire house seems to be.
Soft light glows along the walls, sconces dimmed low while shadows stretch long across polished wood. The air hums. It’s charged, a little frantic, and tastes faintly of her.
Fae magic. Wild and sweet and impossible to miss.
My wife. My precious one.
Inhaling deep, I try to find her, but something else is calling to me. Stronger—it yanks me in the opposite direction, back to the first floor and to my office. The sanctum’s door is open, and the moment I step through, my head snaps toward the floor-to-ceiling bookcase against the opposite wall.
All of my titles have been turned with the spine facing inward, so all I see are page edges.
Then, there’s the wand Gabriella got me as a gag gift a few years ago from some TV-show-based magic shop sitting next to a hand-painted little ghost my mate picked up on the same outing.
Both are on the wrong shelf, mixed in with plants instead of mementos I keep among thrillers I like to re-read when I want something entertaining and human.
My half annoyance, half amusement dies when my runes stir beneath my skin—heat rolling, power tingling low in my spine. Bad little fae. She touched one of my anchors.
Walking to my desk, I scan the tray holding a total of six runes, one for each pillar of my magic.
The obsidian calming stone is missing, the physical pillar that amplifies and steadies the power flowing through my veins.
She didn’t take from my flesh; Anaya stole the piece that thrums and flows with it.
Those stones are tied to me, to my control. They ground me when emotions rise and anchor my coven when they look to their king to steady the chaos. I use them to help me guide, to calm, to teach—especially young witches who haven’t learned how to bend magic to their will.
Fuck, my precious one. This is going to cost you.
She literally took my composure—what cements rationality versus unrestrained emotion.
This was deliberate and methodical. She took advantage of my day out on the field with our army; training took longer than expected, and then my meeting with a coven leader needing assistance went well into the evening.
When the king is away, the naughty fae will plan.
The air stirs, faint fae glamour brushing my senses, her magic stretching against my skin. Something else Anaya’s done on purpose. Like a kiss meant to provoke, her message is loud and clear:
Come and find me.
I exhale slowly, a smirk curling at my lips. “Silly girl. I know what you want.”
She wants me off-center. She wants the hunt to be real, not symbolic.
Clever, stubborn woman.
I’d had a nice surprise for her tonight, but this changes things.
Turning from my desk, I stretch my neck as the runes along my spine flare, adjusting to the missing calm. Each mark vibrates, as does the physical counterpart on my desk, feeding off each other while my sense of rationality dims to near nonexistence.
I’m not weakened by this, but rather freed.
You made a grave mistake, dear wife.
A big one. A very angry one.
I step into the hallways, head tilted to the side, listening for any sound of life, and find nothing. Silence greets me; no footsteps, no heart, no breaths but mine exist. Something that would be impossible for a coven as loud and full of life as ours, but quiet like this can only mean one thing.
Anaya.
The royal house is always open to our people. Since the fall of Larue and his criminal court, the witches and the fae have lived in peace amongst each other. Two worlds bound by a fragile, hard-fought trust. We have an open passage between the two lands, a give-and-take friendship forged from loss.
Hope blooms where once there was none.
The upstairs is empty and so is the downstairs, but a door near the back is wide open with what looks to be lace crumbled on the ground.
It’s lavender, my mate’s favorite color, and I pick it up as lightning cracks in the distance.
In my hands, I hold a pair of worn underwear, her scent on the gusset fresh as is the spot of her arousal right over where the cleft of her pussy touched the fabric.
Delicate and tiny and meant to tease.
She’s leading me. Guiding me.
I answer the call through our bond, sending a pulse of desire to her, but curling around that hunger, there’s ire.
More so when she doesn’t answer me. Pocketing her panties, I gaze around the back gardens, a glow of faint silver under the moon.
The pathway is lit by solar fairy lights, the light breeze making them appear like lazy, drifting fireflies.
Past the garden, and her scent deepens…
Strawberries and cream. My favorite dessert.
Then wings, distant but distinct. A feather-light giggle riding the wind.
My pulse pounds, and the wards along the familial property hum as I pass them into the woods. I catch sight of blonde hair and violet eyes staring at me from behind a cluster of trees, but I blink and it’s gone.
An illusion. Yet her laugh doesn’t disappear; it lingers.
It carries through the breeze, then swirls around me, tugging at the invisible bond that keeps us connected. I stop walking and shrug off my shirt, fold it once, and drop it on a chair that absolutely should not be sitting in the middle of the forest.
She’s playing.
Not hiding, but unafraid.
Another flicker—her silhouette in lavender, dancing beneath the dark sky.
She’s wearing a short dress in the same shade of purple as the panties inside my pocket, and I growl her name low as her hands skim down her sides and to the hemline.
Anaya seductively sways her hips, knowing exactly what she’s doing to me.
My mate lifts the fabric higher with each slow roll of her hips until bare pussy lips come into view.
I’ve been blessed by the Gods. My eyes catch every sinuous curve and the wetness shining on her inner thighs—I take a step closer, but she disappears again. I shake my head to clear it, the humor slipping away as my need grows and cock jerks behind the zipper of my jeans.
The taut skin digs into the metal teeth as my side of the bond is yanked, pulling me in her direction. I don’t know where she is or how far she’s gone, but I can feel her close. Amused and proud of herself.
That sets off the second wave of agitation. My blood heats up at her glee-like edge.
She’s outright daring me. Not in trouble, much less afraid of the consequences, but she’s going to be when I find her. I wander deeper into the forest and away from the absolute silence of our home. I’m not far from our land’s edge—
A hard thump in my chest stops me cold as her much-earned, humor-laced punishment turns into heated anger.
From playful to I need to find her before I burn everything around me to a crisp.
Queen Anaya Moore has crossed our royal borders into wild territory.
The wards announced it, and the pain in my chest blooms the farther she moves from their protection.
Rogues of every kind travel through the unclaimed territory, from wolves to vampires and the sworn enemies of her people.
They roam free here; no laws exist outside of surviving by any means necessary.
“I’m going to turn that pretty little ass red, my precious one.
You will learn this lesson.” In less than two seconds, I soar from a simmering anger to a red-hot, blood-boiling fury.
My walk turns into the pounding of my feet, tearing through the forest until I reach the area of borderland where her scent burns the strongest.
My precious little fae walked through here.
Left me a gift, too.
A few steps from the ward line, a ribbon lies on the grass—lavender silk tied in that familiar teasing bow.
The one she uses when she pretends she can control me.
Top, when we both know she’s a sassy bottom with a penchant I indulge.
Sometimes it’s braided into her hair, and others, it’s circling her waist like a belt, but the underlying motive is there.
A challenge.
Now, it’s lying here wild and waiting for me. Abandoned intentionally, and I pick it up, wrapping the strand around my right wrist before I tear off into a run again. My vision clouds around the edges the more distance I put between us and my lands, and I push harder.
My speed increases with each thump of my heart. Each second apart, I switch between fear for her safety and visions of how I will punish my little fae.
I don’t slow down or stop.
Not until a small cabin covered in vines appears.
Firelight dances from the window. I catch movement inside and tear the door clean off its hinges before sending it flying somewhere behind me. A gasp hits my ears; I’m greeted by her wide, doe eyes and plump lips curving into a smile.
That drops the second I stomp toward her, grabbing her wrists and holding her arms out wide before twisting her around. I survey her perfect skin. No mark. Not so much as a scratch.
When I turn Anaya to face me again, my expression is hard. “What the fuck possessed you to leave our lands? You could’ve been hurt—”
“I wanted to play.” No shame, but she does grimace a little.
“You wanted to play?” It comes out as a growl, low and jagged.
I slam her back into the wall, pinning her wrists above her head.
My hand clamps around her jaw a second before my mouth crashes to hers, swallowing her gasp.
That perfect little moan breaks out anyway, sweet and sinful, and my cock strains against my pants.
Her taste on my tongue makes my dick jerk, the swollen head dripping pre-come into the thin fabric.
She attempts to follow my lips when I pull back. “Leo, kiss me. I need your mouth—”
I tsk, quickly leaning down just enough to bite her bottom lip before kissing the tip of her nose. “I played your game, Aya. Now you’ll play mine.”