Chapter 27
?ROWAN
Paeonia quietly waited at the threshold of Rowan’s study, thinking he must not have seen her. She awkwardly fixed her skirts, Rowan lost within the papers scattered along his desk. The dark red cloak that covered her danced in the corner of his periphery.
When he finally turned to her, she stood straight and froze, her cheeks a soft blush that stood stark against her pale skin. If she was blushing now, he couldn’t imagine how she’d look when they made it to the auctioneer venue.
Rowan had Ren slip Paeonia into something even more modest than the winter frocks and fur-lined cloaks she had grown accustomed to.
The garment fastened high at the neck, its stark white fabric lending her an air of piety he knew she didn’t truly possess—especially not when he pictured her laid bare before him.
The sleeves clung tight along her arms before loosening at the wrists, and the cut did little to define her waist. She had twisted her hair into a braided chignon, leaving a few soft tendrils and her bangs to frame her face.
The only adornments she wore were her ring and a pair of simple silver studded earrings.
Rowan slid on a cloak, walking with Paeonia at his side, strolling to the stables on the far side of his property.
He stroked his ebony mare, already saddled and ready for the trip, courtesy of Olivander.
He turned around and stuck out both hands, waiting.
Paeonia appraised him, tilting her head in confusion.
He grunted. “Come. You cannot get on by yourself.”
He thought it cute that her cheeks immediately grew pink.
She looked around like she searched for something she could use to prop herself on, to not resort to Rowan’s assistance.
To her dismay, she moved closer to him. He quickly gathered her hips under his palms and lifted her with ease, slinging her over the horse.
She gripped the reins tightly, her eyes plastered wide. “I-I’ve never ridden a horse by myself,” she choked.
Well, this wasn’t the best horse for beginners, its stature bigger to accommodate the brooding fae. Her head tilted downward, and she audibly gulped at the height.
“I’ll hold onto you the whole time,” he drearily explained.
That seemed to startle her even more. “Y-you’re going to ride with me?”
He looked at either end of the stable. “Do you see another horse?”
Her lips pulled into a tight line, and Rowan smirked. He swung his leg over the mare, getting comfortable behind Paeonia, her back rigid against his front. He wrapped his arms around her as he reached for the reins, Paeonia’s head tucked under his chin.
They trekked through the woods until they made it to the main road, a soft flurry decorating the air in white sparkles. He was certain Paeonia’s knuckles turned white under her gloves from how tightly she clasped the reins.
“Pae, relax a little. The stiffer you sit, the more you’re going to jostle around.”
Her body slowly began to sink, fitting more languidly against him.
Rowan’s horse, Winter, leapt over a rock in the path, and Paeonia yelped. Rowan slid one arm across her chest, grasping her tightly so she didn’t sway. She was crushed against him, his hand dangerously close to her breast, and Rowan struggled to control his breathing, her scent overpowering him.
What he wouldn’t give to jump off Winter, hike up Paeonia’s fur-lined skirts, bend her over a fallen tree, and—
Shit, he had to clear his head. He shifted uncomfortably, stilling his mind to prevent the stiffening in his pants, hoping Paeonia couldn’t feel it.
After several minutes passed in silence, her voice chirped, trailing softly to his ears. “Can I ask you something?”
Rowan ran his tongue across his teeth. He was filled with a sense of satisfaction that Paeonia was about to ask him something that was eating at her mind on her own volition.
“Yes,” he answered tersely, hiding his enjoyment.
The horse rocked them back and forth, and Rowan closed his eyes for a moment to compose himself.
“That first night when you found me in your gardens—when we made the bargain—you said the bargain had to be marked with blood.”
He waited silently for her to continue.
“You had…” She reached a hand up under her hair and touched the back of her neck where Rowan had cut her skin and stroked his tongue.
“Yes.”
“Sybil told me that bargains are sealed in parchment. In writing. Not blood. She didn’t even know what a blood bargain was.”
He didn’t need her to continue to understand what her question was going to be. “It is one of the talents amongst the Grim Fae. More specifically, the Alder Court.”
Her hand fell back in front of her. “All of it was a lie, then? You didn’t need my blood to seal our bargain.”
“Yes.”
She growled in her chest at his answer, as if being honest angered her more than anything else, and Rowan found that amusing.
“So, then, why?”
Rowan slid his hand across her thigh as they turned a bend in the road, keeping her from sliding down. “To keep you attached to me. To”—he thought about his word choice—“keep you steady.”
She sat straighter. “For me to desire you?” she asked in both alarm and disgust.
He chuckled, though he no longer found their conversation amusing.
“No. That, you felt all on your own. With your being bonded by blood to me, we share a soul. We’re united.
And, with your lively outlook, your healthy nature, you will help keep my gardens thriving.
They respond and react to me. And I…” A beat of silence. “And I am not the easiest of company.”
He was lying. Only partially, but a lie, nonetheless. And it came so easily to him, slid so effortlessly off his tongue.
“Why didn’t you just tell me that?”
“What fun would that be?” He leaned forward so his mouth almost grazed her ear, and she shivered. “I enjoy watching you get angry. I like when you speak your mind.”
Not a lie.
“Insane,” she whispered. “You’re insane.”
Rowan smiled before bucking Winter to pick up her pace.
What he didn’t tell her was that he did actually do the blood bind in hopes of getting her to desire him.
Just as she accused him. But it hadn’t worked.
He thought that since he held this control over her, he’d be able to will her to want him.
But alas, as her soul connected with his, it could only be forced to feel what he felt.
And Rowan was not keen on his own company.
He felt relieved that the bond didn’t work that way, that he didn’t force her, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
They reached the outskirts of Ephemeral in under an hour, and Rowan could no longer afford to stand out.
Even cloaked in shadow, his towering frame remained impossible to miss—but veiled in darkness, he carried an air that no one dared to challenge.
As the city came into view, Paeonia drew in a sharp breath.
“We’re going to Ephemeral?”
“Where else did you think they’d host such auctions? In a copperless town?”
Rowan led Winter to one of the stablemasters, jumping down and reaching for Paeonia before she could protest, hauling her off the back of his horse.
“Stay close,” he commanded.
They approached a shoddy building, cast in darkness even in the middle of the day. A stout fellow stood perched out front; only those he permitted would be let in. Rowan tilted his head so the man could see who he was beneath his cloak.
“Ah, Rowan,” the man boasted. “Ray decided to give ya the chance to get in, did he?” The man leaned so he could see Paeonia standing in Rowan’s shadow. “This your wife, then? Come, show me your ears,” he said to her.
She looked at Rowan, and he nodded. He hated that he got a wild sense of possessiveness—of satisfaction—when Pae turned to him for consent.
She slid off her hood, letting the roundness of her ears sit better in the light, her soft curls shrouded in snowflakes.
The man nodded in acceptance before reaching for Paeonia’s hand.
She yelped when he turned her palm over to see her fingers, looking for a wedding band. Rowan held back the growl in his chest.
His eyes met Rowan’s in indignation. “Hm,” he huffed. “Fine. Go.” He gestured his head toward the door.
“Come, wife.”
“Jus’ don’t let anyone catch ya without her,” the man called.
Paeonia followed, scurrying to his side to be farther away from the man.
Rowan outstretched a hand for her to take.
She stared at it like his palm was the most bizarre thing in the world.
He gestured it toward her until she finally slipped her hand in his.
Immediately, he dragged her into the building.
It was a seedy joint, but that’s what one would expect from a creature trafficking auction.
Paeonia remained silent at his side, the warm air stifling and uncomfortable.
Pipe smoke lingered in the room, humans glancing at them as they maneuvered about.
There were a few harlots working, sauntering after the men, trying to win their coin.
Rowan snarled as one approached him, and she quickly spun in the other direction.
Paeonia made an odd sound, and he looked down at her, tracing where her eyes seemed to be entranced. Several Gloamcaps were being moved in a cage onto the dais in the back of the room. Creatures that had attacked and scared her.
“What are they doing with them?” she whispered.
“Auctioning them.”
Paeonia’s hand tightened in his, her face tilting into a frown. He hated how thoughtful she could be, how kind she was even to creatures that attacked and misguided her.
He pulled her along in haste, moving away from the auctioneer and toward the vendors with illegal goods.
He sought out Felix, a magus he knew would be here this evening.
Knew he’d come to claim a bunyip, a large swamp creature with terribly long canines, the one night only.
And he had to find him, being his last hope at getting what the sorcerer needed.
In exchange for keeping his gardens alive, stopping the sickness from spreading from the woods, Veran had asked for something irritatingly difficult to find.
Rowan preferred it when they asked for whispers and secrets.
“Hm,” Veran had hummed. “Did you steal that girl from town? Bound her to your grueling temper? Poor thing.”
Rowan summoned the breath to not strangle him. “Do not worry about my affairs. Name your price, and let us be gone.”
Veran let his breath out his nose in a huff. “Fine. I ask for your end in a bond in exchange for keeping your gardens solidified in time.”
“Bond’s End?” Rowan surmised in a scoff. Fucking hell. He bared his teeth. “Fine. Deal.”
That bloody dagger hadn’t been seen in over a century. But Rowan did happen to know the last one to lay eyes upon it, and he suspected they might still possess it.
“Come,” Rowan urged.
He slid between humans, tugging Paeonia harshly with him. A female body stepped before him, making him halt.
“Only ten coppers,” she purred, “and I can be all yours.” The female was stunning, dark hair and smooth skin, her eyes a vibrant blue.
Her lips were cherry red, her body exposed through divots and breaks in her silky dress, her curves molding to her like a marble statue.
Rowan shoved her aside, moving toward the magical goods.
“I’ve never seen a woman so beautiful,” Paeonia mumbled at his side.
“S’not really a woman.”
Pae glanced at him.
“Most of the harlots in here have been traded from other creature houses. Their beauty is illusionary, easy to fool human men. But really, they’re beasts in disguise.”
Paeonia shivered, her face horror-struck. She looked like she wasn’t sure if she should feel bad for the creatures or disgusted with their behavior.