Chapter Twenty
Effie…
I thought free jumping into the river and then having sex while the naiads watched would be the most intense part of my day.
I was so wrong.
After taking the plunge, we sprint through the woods following Darius’s wolf’s instincts (really, could that guy slow down a little?
I have short legs). We make a dozen hairpin turns around boulders, trees, and a beaver dam.
We run past a goblin den surrounded by no fewer than fifteen “No Trespassing” signs, a two-foot moat, and solar-powered security cameras that turn to track our progress as we race by.
Then we pass the den again.
And again.
And again.
Yeah, I’m seeing the pattern too. The woods (once again) are fucking with us.
I’m on high alert, scanning the trees for more Council werewolves lurking behind them, and I’m about to warn Darius when two centaurs gallop across our path. The pair slow to a stop and double back through the trees to stand in front of us.
They’re both astoundingly beautiful. The first centaur is a man with the face of a WitchyGram model.
He has curly brown hair that somehow forms a crown on top of his head, and a jawline that witches cook up spells to create.
His bare chest is dark brown and muscular without even a hint of hair.
From the waist down, he transforms into a gorgeous chestnut stallion.
The female centaur with him has tawny brown skin, freckles across her cheeks, piercing green eyes, and stick-straight, blue-black hair that falls over her small, perfect breasts.
Her body morphs at the waist into a stunning ebony mare.
Seriously, they’re both the kind of pretty that makes it hard to look them in the eyes without blushing.
But pretty doesn’t mean friendly.
Adrenaline surges through me as I stand shoulder to shoulder with Darius, my hands loose at my sides as I stoke my magic so I can throw a freeze spell at these two at a moment’s notice. Darius, however, gives me a little headshake and wink before turning his attention to the centaurs.
“How long did it take you to get your hair to do that?” Darius asks.
The centaur blows Darius a mocking kiss. “Don’t be angry just because you aren’t as pretty as I am.”
Centaurs are known for two things in Witchingdom: partying and fighting.
Their diamond-tipped hooves are deadly, they are sharpshooters with the bow and arrows they always wear slung over one shoulder, and outrunning them is next to impossible.
What in the world is Darius thinking? I never should have told him to let his wolf take the lead.
I’m gonna have to make my move—something made a little more complicated by the fact that the female centaur trots over to stand beside me.
She sighs and says to me, “They act like idiots, but they’re friends.”
I watch as the male centaur and Darius continue to exchange insults about each other’s looks, families, and physical coordination.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Oh yeah, they’ve known each other forever.” She shifts her bow so it’s slung over her shoulder along with a leather tube filled with arrows. “I’m Hylo, Prince Nessus’s guard.”
Prince? Fates save us. I hope they are friends, because I really don’t want to add on a feud with the centaur royal house on top of everything else.
“Effie Sherwood. Nice to meet you.” I watch the men continue to act like boys. Now they’re gesturing at the apples in the prince’s saddlebag. “Are they always like this together?”
“Every. Single. Time,” Hylo says with a dismissive neigh.
Darius and Nessus the centaur prince continue their mock who’s-the-toughest stare-off.
Well, as close as they can get, considering Nessus’s face is a good foot higher than Darius’s, leaving Darius having to tilt his head up or glare at the other man’s dark purple nipples.
After all that, the men lower their voices, and even though I’m straining and using my magic to improve my hearing, I can’t catch what they’re discussing.
“We have skills of our own, Effie of the Sherwoods,” Hylo says. “You won’t hear their discussion unless the prince wishes it.”
Great. So much for being one of the superpowerful Sherwood sisters.
The prince lets out a neighing chuckle and says, “You’re shit with a bow and arrow, and you know it, while I could shoot that apple off your head with one eye closed.”
“So those are your terms?” Darius asks, waiting until Nessus nods his head before continuing. “Sweeten the deal with three persimmons and passage through Pholoe, and it’s a deal.”
Nessus just stares down at him for a second, his gaze narrowing. Next to me, Hylo tenses. I have no idea what’s going on, but I know whose side I’m on, and I tap back into my magic.
Finally, though, the prince reaches into his saddlebag, pulls out a bright green apple, and tosses it to Darius, who makes a no-look catch.
“We go with a hydra blood–tipped arrow,” the prince says as he reaches back toward his quiver and then starts to trot farther into the woods.
“Always,” Darius says, and then turns so his spine is flush against one of the trees and puts the apple on his head. “But if you miss, you owe me.”
Nessus snorts. “I never miss.”
Okay, this is officially not a good idea. Hydra-tipped arrows are deadly. Even if it barely scratches him, it’ll be enough for the poison to do what poisons are supposed to do.
“Darius.” I start walking toward him, but Hylo blocks my path, and suddenly, I’m nose to withers with a centaur who totally gives off the scary vibe that she is very good at her job as the prince’s guard.
“What?” Darius asks from the other side of Hylo, sounding completely unbothered.
“You are the alpha; shouldn’t you be a little more careful with your safety rather than let a centaur shoot a hydra arrow at you?” I say it all slowly, as if I’m speaking to someone who is trying to make me lose my shit, which I am very close to doing, because this little stunt is idiotic.
“Probably, but it’s not fun,” he says, as if it’s no big deal.
“Plus, Nessus here is the son of the herd’s matriarch, so if I back out now after we’ve made a deal, his mother, Magnesia, will spend the rest of her life, which lasts for all of eternity, hunting down every member of the Aetos pack until even history forgets us. ”
“Mags is a grudge holder,” Hylo says with a flick of her tail. “He’s not lying.”
“And,” Darius goes on, “as much as I hate to say anything nice about him, our own four-hooved Nessie is a crack shot when he’s sober.” He pauses and hollers at the prince, “You are sober, right?”
The centaur, who’s about seventy yards deep in the woods but still visible, turns his hand one way and then another.
“Ish,” he shouts in response.
And this is when I realize that I need to apologize to my sisters, because it’s a completely different experience being the one watching someone make wild decisions instead of being the one making them.
For my whole life, it’s been my sisters looking out for me and trying to protect me from some of my worst impulsive decisions.
I’ve always thought it was because they are too stuck in their ways.
That isn’t the case though. My sisters—really, my whole family—have been watching out for me, not out of pity because our family magic skipped over me as an heir because there is something wrong with me, but because they care.
Targeted risks are one thing. Being reckless for the sake of it without any thought for the consequences for yourself or others is an entirely different thing. There can be adventure and fun without being completely untethered from the world and your place in it.
My heart’s in my throat and my hands are shaking so hard I have to clasp them together, but I need to get through to him. “Darius, I—”
Nessus pulls back his bow and lets his arrow fly in one quick, smooth motion, cutting off what I’m about to say. It speeds through the air, curves around tree trunks, barely misses a squirrel jumping from one branch to another, and splits the apple sitting on Darius’s head.
Relief surges through me, wiping out all the anxiety like a tidal wave. However, I’m going to kill Darius. Who am I kidding, I might kill them both.
“It makes you want to stuff them both into a hole, doesn’t it?” Hylo says as she shakes her head.
“How do you not?” I get out from between gritted teeth.
“Nessus makes up for it in other ways,” she says as she gives me a knowing look. “Much like I imagine Darius does.”
The werewolf in question saunters over to me, wraps an arm around my waist, and pulls me in for a deep kiss.
Strong and playful, he teases my lips apart with his tongue.
I want to stay annoyed. I should stay annoyed.
I can’t. Kissing Darius is like jumping off that cliff into the waterfall below.
It’s thrilling. It’s amazing. It somehow feels exactly right even though it probably shouldn’t.
My splash of freckles across my wrist warm along with the rest of me as I lose myself in what is just a kiss and yet so much more.
The man is a giant pain in my ass, but he really does know how to kiss. By the time he takes a step back, I’m breathless and wondering how quickly we can get to Arcadia so he can take care of Nikos and then take me back to his place to thoroughly take care of me.
“Don’t worry, I will,” he says, as if he’s heard my thoughts.
I can’t even come up with a single thought, let alone a witty clapback. The man has flummoxed me with a single kiss. I mean, yes, it was a really good kiss, and it’s backed up with actual lived experience of multiple brain-meltingly good orgasms, but still—I’m never speechless.
Darius winks at me and goes over to Nessus. They finalize the plan to travel though the Pholoe Valley without getting sucked into quicksand, cornered by a hydra, or running into some asshole named Jason who’s been aimlessly wandering the woods for years.
But even at this not-touching-anymore distance, I can still feel Darius. It’s like there’s an arc of electricity between us, and it’s fried my brain. I’m used to being the most outrageous and teasing him until he is so turned on he can’t see straight. And now he’s doing it to me?
ME!
Effie Sherwood, who made WitchyGram’s top ten most brazen list, is blushing and speechless and fucking smitten.
I blame the moon, but I know that’s not just all there is to it. That bond between us, it isn’t just because of the great sex. I’ve had fantastic orgasms before and kept my wits about me.
But with Darius? That is becoming a different story.
Even worse? The fated mates bond theory of Aunt Artemis’s that I didn’t want to believe is real is starting to feel stronger and more solid with every hour that passes.
And even the idea of leaving Arcadia and Darius in a month when our marriage of convenience ends makes my stomach clench.
I can’t explain it.
I don’t understand it.
I’m damn sure not happy about it, but I can’t deny the truth.
My upcoming nuptials may be fake, but the fact that I’m falling for Darius Aetos is terrifyingly real.