Chapter 4
four
The irate expression on the man’s face wasn’t as terrifying as the serrated dagger in his massive hand.
The blade’s teeth were caked in what she could only assume was dried blood.
The hilts of two unidentifiable crossed weapons peeked over his broad shoulders, and if they were anything like the horrifying dagger he held, she didn’t want to find out what waited for her on the other ends.
Orelia tried and failed to speak behind the cover of her trembling hand.
The stranger flung open the gate, knocking it completely off the hinges as he stormed into her garden. A heaviness accompanied him like thick humidity after a summer rain, suffocating her almost immediately.
She scrambled back on her hands. “Please don’t hurt me!”
He stopped at her feet and pointed his weapon at her. “What the fuck was that?”
Her eyes darted to the house. She’d stupidly forgotten her knife; it was sitting uselessly on her bedside table. Panicking, Orelia shot to standing, summoned the lid of the storage box, and let it fly into her hands.
When she held it up in front of her, the man curiously searched her brow, probably looking for the Mark of the Witch.
He stood abnormally still in sable fighting leathers that looked like they’d been personally made for him; the vest and pants tailored for every curve of each individually toned muscle.
The well-cut pants disappeared into calf-high black boots, and ties crisscrossed down the front of his long-sleeved, deep brown tunic.
The two baldrics he wore crossed over his shoulders and attached to the opposite hip, forming an X shape across his chest. The only visible portions of his tawny skin were his face, hands, and a sliver of his neck above the collar.
The stranger took one step forward, and she retreated an equal step back, raising her makeshift shield. “Who are you?” Orelia asked with confidence, despite her shaking knees.
A scowl twisted his full lips. His brown skin echoed warm, golden undertones, and his dark hair was pulled into a knot low on his head.
A few strands of loose, wavy hair framed his sculpted face and failed to conceal a pair of pointed ears.
She suspected he was a ren, though he was bigger than any ren she’d ever seen.
His eyes were as black and depthless as caves, with equally dark, thick scruff lining his jaw.
Unbelievably handsome. And terribly frightening.
“Explain to me what the fuck you just did before I carve you into pieces.”
The command in his voice pinned her in place. She swallowed, heart beating like a drum. “I was trying a binding spell on my garden t-to get it to grow.”
His eyes widened.
“I’m a witch, and I was using the spell, combined with my healing—”
“You’re not Marked.” He looked at her forehead again, his brows drawing together when he didn’t find the tattoo.
“Of course I’m not Marked!” Orelia would never worship the devils in the Three Hells all so she could have access to powers other than healing. “I’m a good witch.”
Onyx wings snapped out from his back, impossibly black and dragonlike, each longer than he was tall.
Not a ren. A fae.
He shot into the sky and disappeared into the clouds.
Orelia stood and searched for him, squinting into the sun.
She was still scanning the sky when a searing pain ripped through her.
She collapsed, crying out in agony as her muscles felt like they were being torn apart.
Her chest and abdomen were on fire, the pain tugging at the ends of her consciousness.
She screamed again, though no sound came out.
Something slammed into the ground and the pain inside her evaporated. Orelia choked down air, and when she could breathe steadily enough, she rolled over to see the fae bent, chest heaving as his wings folded back into his body.
“What in the hells was that?” she managed to ask, gathering herself enough to stand.
He shot her a glare. “Why can’t I leave without feeling like my insides are being shredded?”
“You felt it too?”
The man stalked forward and Orelia was too terrified to move. He yanked her toward him by her collar and stuck his dagger under her jaw. “Did you fucking bind yourself to me, witch? Is that why I can’t leave?”
This close, he smelled like the earth at night. Like dark forests and woodsmoke, and something deliciously masculine that jarred her senses.
She trembled, trying not to prick herself on the cold bit of steel at her throat. “I-I don’t know . . .”
“What do you mean you don’t know? It’s your gods-damned spell!”
“It’s not actually my spell. I-I got it from someone.”
He pulled her so close their noses were near touching. The man was almost a head taller than her five feet and six inches. She’d never felt so small as he glared down at her. “Who?” he growled, nostrils flaring. When Orelia didn’t respond right away, he shook her. “Tell me who!”
“A wizard!”
He released her and stepped back, sheathing his blade in the process. “Take me to them. Now.”
“But I don’t—”
“Now, witch. Before I lose my temper.”
Orelia couldn’t get her legs to work. Her focus had fallen to the belt around his waist housing daggers and knives of all sizes.
When he saw her staring, the fae snapped his fingers in her face. “Let’s go.”
As they headed into town, she noticed the strange heaviness continued to cling to him, pressing down on her from every direction.
She didn’t know if it was harder to breathe because of him, or because of the heart hammering in her chest as she tried to keep his pace.
Despite her leading, he seemed intent on pushing her to hurry.
When they made it to the wildflower field, Orelia glanced at him out of the corner of her eye a few times.
She hadn’t seen him around, and there hadn’t been any recent gossip of a fae in town.
And he definitely wasn’t a spring fisherman looking for work.
She’d never seen someone who carried himself the way he did.
He kept his focus straight ahead, and his strides and posture were perfectly attuned.
A man completely sure of himself. In a peculiar way, she was jealous of the mysterious stranger.
She certainly didn’t have a presence like he had, and Orelia found herself curious as to what people thought when they looked at her.
Get a hold of yourself, she thought. This man is going to kill you if that spell did something to him.
Remembering Millie’s wounds, she pondered if he was the one who had harmed her, though nothing obviously indicated an ability to wield light. He had pointy ears belonging to all fae, but no face tattoos, and the sides of his head weren’t shaved like she’d read was customary for fae tribes.
Despite his imposing presence, she had to know if he was the one who’d hurt Millie. “Are you a Lysa Fae?” she asked as they crossed the bridge.
His boots thunked across each wooden plank, strides lengthening as he ignored her question.
Orelia struggled to keep up. “I only ask because I know someone who encountered one a couple months back, and we don’t really get fae around here.”
She waited for his answer, but he never gave one, and the rest of the walk to the apothecary was silent.
They stepped into Morton’s shop, Orelia fearing for the wizard with his nose buried in a book. When he looked up over the rim of his glasses, his mouth fell open in apparent awe.
“It’s been ages since I’ve seen a fae,” he said.
She wasn’t sure how he already knew, but her fear subsided somewhat.
The man made it to the counter in three giant strides. He turned and pinned his eyes on hers, saying gruffly, “Tell him what you did.”
Her palms began sweating.
“What happened?” Morton asked.
“I uhh . . .accidentally hit him with the spell.”
Morton’s bushy white eyebrows furrowed. “How do you mean?”
“I had almost finished reciting the spell when he startled me.”
The fae glared like he thought she was trying to put this on him.
“I flung up my hands as I was reciting, and the pink light disappeared into his chest.”
“Oh my,” the wizard mumbled, closing his book.
“What does it mean?” the fae asked.
Morton pulled out his brown spell book from behind the counter. “Well, I’m not sure exactly.”
The fae huffed. “Not sure? What kind of fucking place is this? She didn’t know what she was doing, and apparently, neither did you. Why are you giving out spells you don’t understand?”
A stern look she’d never seen crossed Morton’s face, settling into his wrinkles. “Do not insult me or my customers in my shop, do you understand me?”
The man stepped closer to the counter, towering over the wizard. “If you don’t tell me how to fix what she did, I’ll slit her throat and bleed her dry all over your floors, old man.” Shadows wound around his muscled arms, starting at the elbow, working their way to his hands.
Orelia went still. A Myrker Fae.
She’d read about the three types of fae in one of Morton’s books years ago.
Myrkers were said to be able to black out skies with their power, and some terrorized their victims by leaving them in complete darkness for a full tenday so they went insane.
She knew their shadows could fluctuate between being tangible and intangible, but she didn’t know the extent of what they were capable of.
Morton didn’t cower from the Myrker’s stare, and after a few more seconds of the two refusing to back down from one another, the wizard flipped to the page with the binding spell she’d used.
“I have never seen this spell used on people, so I don’t know how it works.
You can make all the threats you want, but it’s the truth.
The spell is intended for plants and animals only, so tell me exactly what happened when the light hit you. ”