17. Chapter Sixteen #2
He exhaled deep, a frustrated sound, as if holding back a snarl. He moved, slow and purposeful, stealing more of the thinning air between us. I stumbled half a step, my hand raised. “Don’t. Don’t you dare get any closer.”
He jerked back as If I’d shocked him, his eyes burning bright, green fire in the dark. “I can handle whatever comes of it.”
The words were more vow than bravado. He continued his ruthless advance.
I threw my hands up in the air, backing away with each step he took forward. “That’s not the point!”
“Isn’t it?” His tone was measured, but beneath it something darker stirred. His gaze swept down, then back up, cutting through me. He was close enough now that I could feel the weight of his breath. “He. Touched. You. And you let him?”
It was a question, not a mere accusation. My mouth fell open, then snapped shut. “I didn’t ask for it, Tairngire. He grabbed my wrist, and poof.” I snapped my fingers. “A vision came.”
His nostrils flared, jaw tight, choking back his response with a low sound that reverberated through my chest. This was not the reaction I had envisioned. He seemed genuinely angry at the prospect of someone touching me—no, not just someone, a Fae…why?
I huffed a breath, wine pushing boldness past my lips. “Gods, you’re actually upset about this. What? Did you want to be the first one to damn me to a divine vision, Tairngire?"
He stepped closer still, shadows licking broad shoulders, leaning down so his breath tickled my cheekbones.
“I don’t give a damn about your visions,” he whispered, voice clipped.
“But he put his hands on you with malicious intent. And that—” he paused, lethality in his eyes. “Was a dangerous move on his part.”
I jerked away from him and crossed my arms, wobbling but keeping my chin high. A smirk formed on my lips. I had power here, and I was reveling in it.
“Malicious intent? Is that so? He seemed nice. Kinder than you, anyway.” My lips curled into a full-blown, wine-slick smile. “He even smelled divine—like honey and spring rain. I could’ve drowned in it.”
The words landed how I’d wanted them to, stripping the arrogance from his face.
Good. He had no right to talk to me this way, I could do as I damn well pleased.
It wasn’t as if he had been there for me in the forest when I needed him.
He left me there to deal with another realm bleeding into the Seventh.
Alone. When he was supposed to be 'protecting me. '
I was caught up in my fury until I noticed his eyes darkening, green burning into something deadly.
“That wasn’t a kindness,” he bit out, his voice rough as tree bark. The sound vibrated against my skin, causing the hair on my arms to stand at attention. “He used Fae magic on you and the witchling.”
I blinked, fighting the tilt in my vision, but his words sliced through, cold and vicious.
“He touched you with it. Wrapped you in it. That’s why you’re stumbling like a mortal child with her first wine. You weren’t drunk on grapes, Little Seer—you were drunk on him.” A look of disgust overtook his face. “He attempted to seduce you with it.”
Heat rose from him again, not simply anger…it was far more vicious. My breath caught as he leaned in closer, harsh features softening—just for a moment.
Whatever was going on with Tairngire tonight, whatever version of himself he was showing, I didn’t fucking like it. But before I could tell him as much, he spoke again.
“You don’t even realize what he did,” he murmured, almost to himself.
I felt Branwyn’s glamour snap apart, dissolving like smoke and leaving me bare under his gaze. No disguises. No masks.
And then before I could stop him, he reached out. Fingers brushed my temple, sweeping a loose strand of hair back. The touch was so light it sent a shiver down my arms.
His hand lingered just a heartbeat too long, thumb grazing my jaw as if testing the edge of restraint before he pulled back. I hoped he hadn’t felt my racing pulse, lest he thought something of it.
Goddess preserve me.
His expression was unreadable, all storm and shadow, though something vulnerable lingered there.
For once I didn’t snap. Didn’t let the rage consume me. My next words slipped out softly, shaky and low. “Why doesn’t the Sight spark…when you touch me?”
He studied me under that inscrutable gaze of his. “You’ve never asked a question without fire on your tongue.” His voice was quiet. Not teasing or cruel for a change. “You should ask them like that more often. You may find you’ll get better results.”
Heat prickled the back of my neck. He wasn’t answering. He never did. He was always diverting, trying to distract. But the way he said it twisted something my chest.
“I don’t recall my question requiring your opinion,” I murmured, trying for an edge, but the Fae magic dragged the bite from my words.
A flicker passed through his expression, he tilted his head to the side. “Hmm. Perhaps the Fates enjoy their little games and mysteries too much.”
Just like you.
Enigmatic and unhelpful as always. His gaze hardened once more as he took a step back. “You should rest,” he said, his tone carrying that same maddening mix of command and mockery. “Tomorrow will demand more of you than flitting about taverns, drowning in Fae magic and wine.”
My brows pulled together. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’ll need your strength. I’m taking you somewhere.”
My heart stuttered. “Somewhere…” I repeated slowly, my brow furrowing. My eyelids shot up with the truth dawning on me. “We’re crossing realms.”
He let the suffocating silence stretch without an answer. His eyes, though…they told me enough.
I should’ve remained furious with his games and riddles, but instead? I felt my pulse quicken, excitement thrumming in time with the Weave itself.
I made it halfway through the door before my foot betrayed me, catching on the lip of the threshold. My body lurched forward but I never hit the floor.
Strong arms closed around me and my breath hitched as I found myself pressed against his chest. He lifted me as if I weighed no more than a feather.
“Watch yourself,” he murmured, voice edged with amusement. “Fae magic can topple gods, Little Seer. You’ve lasted longer than most.”
“I don’t need your help,” I protested, shoving against him uselessly. My limbs were heavy, still sluggish from Davorin’s dreaded magic.
“Shh.” The sound was startlingly soft. His chest vibrated against me. “Save all that fire for tomorrow.”
Before I could argue, he carried me down the hall.
His warmth wrapped around me, the rhythm of his stride bearing no effort at all.
His shoulders scraped against the walls of the narrow hallway.
He was far too large for this damned hut.
I loathed it, and I loathed the way my body eased against his like it belonged there even more.
He laid me down. The mattress was cool against my back. I looked up and caught that same flicker of vulnerability as before—gone in less than a second. He pulled the blanket over me with a gentleness that squeezed my chest.
Those striking emerald eyes cut into my hazel fire. “Sleep. You’ll need it.”
And just like that mist curled where he stood, swallowing him whole. The room was empty before I could form another question.