39. Sneak Peek
Sneak Peek
How To Wed A Wild God
NERISSA
If one more person tells me a seven-foot-tall wild god is just ‘expressing his interest’ by tracking primeval mud across my perimeter, I am going to hex their teeth into literal gravel.
I don't do courtly pining. I don't do the blushing, starry-eyed maiden routine, and I sure as hell don't have the patience for Aveline’s fancy, over-rehearsed duchess sighs. The coven thinks I’m the dangerous one because my magic doesn't produce pretty little glowing lanterns or make the local petunias bloom or enchant cookies.
My magic unweaves things.
I find the energetic threads holding reality together, and if you piss me off, I pull until you completely unravel.
Beside me, a low, rumbling vibration rattles the cobblestones.
“He is inside,” a voice echoes directly in the center of my brain—heavy, dark, and drenched in a bloodthirsty anticipation.
I drop my hand, my fingers burying deep into the thick, silver-black fur of Harrow's neck.
My dire wolf familiar is the size of a small horse, a terrifying mass of muscle, scars, and razor-sharp teeth that usually keeps the entire village at a hundred-yard radius.
Right now, his massive head is leveled at the front door of the eyesore in front of us, his golden eyes glowing with a feral, shared malice.
Through our tether, I can taste his hunger.
I can feel the phantom pressure of his jaws wanting to snap bone.
“I know he is,” I project back, a sharp smirk cutting across my face. “Let's go remind this overgrown weed who actually owns these woods.”
The eyesore in question is the three-story stone townhouse currently wedged completely crooked between the village bakery and the weaver's shop.
I built it this morning out of pure, unadulterated spite when Cern attempted to casually throw me over his massive shoulder like a sack of potatoes near the western border.
He claimed it was ‘protective custody.’ I claimed it was a one-way ticket to getting his ancient wooden antlers castrated.
The coven is watching me from the edges of the square, holding their breath. Wren looks stressed. Aveline is clutching Malakai's arm, looking at me like I'm walking to the gallows.
They think I'm being cornered. They think the wild god has trapped me.
They don’t know that I’m the one who built the trap.
I march up the creaking wooden steps of the porch, my heavy leather boots tracking wet mud. I don't hesitate. I throw the door wide and step directly across inside.
Harrow slips in right behind me, a silent, lethal shadow at my back
The heavy door slams shut behind us with a thud. The iron lock clicks into place entirely unbidden, sealing the entrance.
Instantly, the ordinary dimensions of a village townhouse disappear.
There are no floorboards. There are no plaster walls, staircases, or cozy parlor hearths.
I sway for a second, faltering, taking in the illusion. Taking it in and trying to find the threads to undo it.
The second that door locked, the air turned heavy with humidity. Ancient magic replaced the smell of lumber with damp moss, copper, and crushed pine needles. The ceiling’s gone, replaced by a suffocating canopy of towering ancient redwoods and twisted oaks that blot out the sky.
The ground beneath my boots is a dense, rotting carpet of primeval loam. I can feel it breathing.
This illusion is alive.
I might… be out of my depth with this one.
The townhouse is a pocket dimension. A prehistoric jungle packed into three stories of brick smack dab in the middle of the Wild Oak Woods.
“Wonderful,” I mutter, kicking a rock.
Eyes flash yellow behind a tree, then disappear.
Harrow immediately drops into a low stalk, his lips curling back to reveal rows of gleaming fangs. A growl tears from his chest, vibrating through the ancient roots around us.
“Behind the cedar,” Harrow snaps mentally. “He smells of lightning and old oak.”
"I know you're in here, Cern," I call out into the gloom, my voice devoid of fear.
A trick I learned as a kid, because I am scared to death right now.
Sweat trickles down my back.
I raise my right hand, a crackling web of rainbow spell-threads igniting around my knuckles like static electricity. "You wanted your bride? Well, I'm standing right here. Come out and get me, you giant lumbering idiot, or am I going to have to start logging this section of your playground?"
Harrow laughs at my threat with a wolfy snort.
The massive ferns twenty feet ahead of me violently part.
The wild god steps out into the speckled light, and the weight of his power drops the air pressure in the forest.
Cern is terrifying. Beautiful, yes, in a ruinous, primeval way, but too much.
Too much power twines around him, in more shades of green than I’ve ever seen.
His massive chest is bare, covered in thick scars and glowing green runes that tell of magic I can barely comprehend.
The jagged, moss-covered antlers slicing out from his golden hair catch the green light, and his emerald eyes are wild, glowing with an obsessive hunger.
For me.
My heart beats a little faster.
He doesn't look like a man. He looks like the forest itself, risen to reclaim what belongs to the earth.
A predatory grin cuts across his rugged face as his gaze locks onto mine, entirely ignoring the crackling death-magic sparking around my fingers.
"You walked into my domain willingly, little spell weaver," Cern rumbles. It’s too loud, too deep—cutting straight through to my bones.
He takes a single stride forward, the earth buckling beneath his bare feet. "You locked the door yourself. You’re trapped with me. Sealed in."
I lift my chin, the rainbow threads of magic around my knuckles stretching tight as Harrow tethers his consciousness to mine, preparing to spring.
"I'm not trapped in here with you," I purr, my smirk turning deadly as I step forward to meet his stride. "You're locked in here with me."