Chapter 3
JESSAMINE
I awoke to feeling warm. Too warm. Blinking my eyes open, I pushed off the covers.
No, not covers. Furs. At first, I thought I’d been captured and was imprisoned in the Mevian guards’ tent.
But then I saw the horse-sized, black Meer-wolf spread out on the bed of furs next to me.
No moon fae kept a Meer-wolf for a pet. They were companions of only one kind—the beast fae.
Carefully pushing to a sitting position, not wanting the wolf to attack, I vaguely recalled waking from a fever and seeing a giant dark fae—bigger than any I’d ever laid eyes on in my life—with his hand at my throat. Then I remembered I’d electrocuted him. My magick had defended me in my weakness.
Had I killed him?
Surely, this wolf would’ve killed me if I’d murdered his master. So he was somewhere nearby.
The wolf with silver eyes wagged his tail then stood and trotted outside of the tent. I breathed out a sigh of relief. The wolf was frightening, even if he didn’t appear to want to harm me.
Taking a look around, I was in a rather tall and large tent. This bed of furs was also over-sized. I suppose both must be to fit the size of the creature who lived here.
Gods above. Was I now captive of that monster?
Pushing out of the bed, I stood and wobbled on my feet.
I still had all of my clothes on, thank the gods.
Even my apron. I tucked my hand into the pocket, finding the elkmine otter pelt still there.
I sniffed at the sting of tears wanting to spill over, remembering the kindness of the old wraith fae.
And especially of Haldek. He’d helped me escape.
If I made my way back to Haldek’s tavern, he would give me supplies to flee farther into dark fae territory.
I was certain of it. Unless the Mevian guards were waiting and watching his tavern for my return.
I had to try. I needed to sneak out of here and make my way back through the woods. Taking one of the furs—a soft gray one—from the bed, I wrapped it around my shoulders, pulling it tight around my neck. Then I tip-toed toward the opening of the tent.
Peering through the flap, I didn’t see the wolf or the beast. Only the flickering of a campfire. I slipped through and carefully stepped toward the dark woods—not exactly thrilled about setting off back into the cold.
“Where do you think you’re going?” came a deep, gravelly voice behind me.
Heart pounding, I turned to see the beast fae male standing in the halo of firelight opposite me, his arms bloody with one clawed hand holding half of a deer carcass over one shoulder.
He was bare-chested, wearing pants made of a dark hide.
Demon runes decorated his upper chest, curling across his pectorals in swirls and slashes with smaller runes inked by his gods across his forehead.
Four massive black horns with a thick ridge of bone spiraled out of his head, slightly curling over his skull.
One of his long, pointed ears twitched as he scowled at me with bright, golden eyes.
And his tail, also long, covered with the same fine pelt that seemed to cover his skin and tufted slightly at the tip, flicked behind him with agitation.
My pulse sped faster. He was more terrifying than I remembered in that blink when I woke from my fever. If I ran, he could take two pounces and tackle me down without any effort.
“Seems your fever broke,” he grumbled then marched toward the fire, heaving the haunch of bloody deer off of his back.
With his free hand, he gripped the wooden handle of the long spike hanging over the fire between two tripods.
And with hardly any effort at all, he stabbed the spike straight through the deer carcass then set it back over the fire.
He walked a few paces away from the fire and dipped his hands into the snow, lifting a handful of it and rubbing it along his bloody arms.
He was cleaning himself this way?
I stared in absolute wonder at this barbaric creature as he took a rag hanging from a branch and dried his hands, only half the blood gone from his limbs.
He sat on a stump that had obviously been cut and rolled to the fire, the perfect width and height for him. Even sitting, he was intimidatingly…large. I couldn’t quite catch my breath. His wolf plopped down next to him and stared at me, just as his master did now.
The beast fae’s scowl deepened as he regarded me. “Are you mute, woman? Or did you lose the use of your tongue when you ran off into the snow to kill yourself?”
It was my turn to frown. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” I snapped.
“Ah, she does have a tongue, Wolf.”
That drew my attention to the regal hound at his side. I’d heard that beast fae rode their Meer-wolf hounds. This was a colossus of an animal. He’d have to be, to carry this beast fae.
“Never seen one before?” he asked, watching me staring.
“A wraith fae once brought a Meer-wolf pup into the tavern,” I said softly. “He’d found him abandoned. He was big, his head past my waist, even for a baby.”
“Meer-wolves don’t abandon their pups,” he stated with some superiority. “Likely, the mother died defending it from another predator.”
“So they all reach his size?” I gestured toward the black hound.
He scoffed, his long canines showing when he sort of sneered. “No. None get to be Wolf’s size. He’s a king of his kind.”
“What’s his name?” I asked, still standing on the perimeter of the firelight.
“I’ve said his name already. Wolf.”
“You named your wolf, Wolf?”
He leaned down, one elbow on a knee as he reached for a log and tossed it into the fire, the flames licking up to the meat. My stomach turned.
“What else should I call him?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps N?kt for the god of night?”
Stepping closer, I sat upon the ground since there was no other log or stump for another person. He was alone here.
“Or perhaps King since you said so yourself, he is a king of his kind.”
The wolf rounded the fire and stretched out at my side. I froze for a moment, but then he licked the back of my hand before resting his head on his paws. Hesitantly, I brushed a hand along the back of his neck.
“He is gentle for being such a giant.”
The hound huffed and nuzzled closer to me.
The dark fae male snorted with disgust. “Traitor beast.” He then reached to the ground and lifted a water satchel before tossing it to me. I caught it in my lap.
“You’ve broken the fever, but you need water. Drink.”
Grateful, I twisted off the cap and drank greedily. Then drank some more. The water was cool and welcome on my parched throat.
“Not sure how you broke that fever so fast,” he added. “Is it your witchcraft?”
I arched a brow at him. “If you mean my magick, then possibly so. My kind rarely stays sick. Water is its own kind of magick for skald fae.”
It was true that water itself was a magickal healing property for skald fae.
Especially those in my family with a deeper connection to water.
If I hadn’t fallen unconscious in the snow running from the Mevian guards then I’d have used my magick to transform the snow into a healing cocoon in the icy cold.
But I’d been in a panicked run for my life.
I’d had no time to stop and think, too afraid they’d catch me if I did.
“Hmph. Witchcraft,” he grumbled.
Suddenly, the beast fae pulled a black blade the length of my entire arm from a sheath at his belt. I flinched but kept still as he knelt closer to the fire.
“I’m not going to kill you, female.”
He sliced a piece of the meat from the deer haunch and placed it on the rag he’d used earlier to wipe his hands. Then he sliced another before carrying it around the fire and handing it to me. I blinked up at him, still in awe of his size, but I took the offering and set it in my lap.
He sliced himself a giant chunk and sat on his stool, taking a bite.
I didn’t miss that his canines were longer than any I’d seen before.
He was an incredibly impressive beast fae.
He was an incredibly impressive beast fae, in that he could kill me with one swipe of his claws.
I stared down at the roasted meat in my lap, my stomach souring.
“Eat. You need food to warm your body on the inside and fight the cold.”
I blinked at him. “I…can’t eat this.”
“Why not?” He gave me that same scrutinizing look like he thought I might be addled in the head.
“I don’t eat meat.”
He stared with open confusion. “What do you mean you don’t eat meat?”
“Just what I said. I don’t eat it.”
“Everyone eats meat.”
It was my turn to scoff. “Perhaps on this side of the world. But I don’t. Nor do I eat fish. It is not our way.”
“How do you live then?” He seemed completely perplexed.
I laughed. “There are other things to eat in the world besides meat.”
“Like what?”
“Bread, cheese, vegetables.”
He curled his lip up into a snarl, revealing those awfully sharp fangs. “You can’t live on that.”
“Obviously, I can live on that.” I gestured toward myself, the fur I’d been wearing over my shoulder slipping to my waist. “I’m sitting here, quite alive.”
His gaze dipped to my body. I was aware that I had a robust figure which attracted males. While my sisters were willowy and elegant, I’d been built differently. It was part of my allure as a syrenskyn. Another gift from the gods which only attracted the wrong sort of attention. Like now.
“You look like you eat meat,” he said.
Rolling my eyes, I snapped, “Don’t be vulgar.” Refusing to let fear take hold, I set the sliced venison before the wolf who instantly ate my portion. I stood, pulling the fur with me and wrapping it around myself. “So, am I a prisoner now?”
He frowned. “What would I do with you?” Then he ate the giant piece of meat still in his hand. I couldn’t help but notice his forked tongue when he licked the juice from his lips. He was more of a monster than any creature I’d met in my travels and my time hiding away in the Borderlands.
“You’re free to go.” He gestured toward the woods.