Chapter 2 #2
That was her fault. She was the genius who mentioned how her OB-GYN mentioned that upping her water and her fruits and vegetables was super important.
Mitch seized on that. He insisted she have a glass of water more frequently than her poor bladder appreciated, and he filled their fridge with every type of fruit and veggie he could get his hands on.
To make Mitch happy, she tried. She did.
And while she could choke down a banana at breakfast, and salads with lunch became a thing for her, she drew the line at eating a pile of fruit for every meal like Mitch.
She pointedly reminded him that Dr. Flannagan also impressed that it was important to get her protein in before continuing to cook for herself.
That didn’t stop him from nagging her to eat more fruit.
Most nights, after he returned from the office but before they went to their separate bedrooms, he offered.
To get him off of her back, she attempted to, but though her morning sickness was behind her as she headed into her sixth month of pregnancy, something about forcing the fruit down had her stomach turning.
It had been like that for weeks. Even so, when Mitch prepared her a bowl of fruit salad for dessert that night, she want to show him appreciation for all he had done for her so far.
Callie picked up the fork, jabbing the nearest hunk of sliced fruit. It was an apple, she figured, and should be pretty safe.
Should be.
Not surprisingly, her stomach heaved. And though the idea of the fruit salad was as enticing as it always was, the sweet scent wafting over the bowl seeming to lure her in, her jaw clamped shut before she could even lift the fork to her mouth.
Damn it. It was happening again.
The fork fell from her hand. The metal stem clanged against the top of the table, the apple bouncing off of the tines before landing on the floor.
As Mitch swooped low to pick the piece of apple up, Callie made her escape. Shoving the bowl of fruit salad away from her, she climbed from her seat before bolting toward the bathroom.
She slammed the door behind him, then sank to her knees in front of the toilet bowl.
Of course Mitch followed her. She heard him call her name from a distance a few seconds before he was standing on the other side of the bathroom door.
“Cal?” He rapped his knuckles against the wood. “You okay in there?”
It took a moment before she could work past the sudden lump lodged in her throat enough to say, “Uh-huh. I’m… I’m okay.”
Good things she wasn’t a fae because, yeah. Callie was lying her friggin’ ass off.
The nausea had only gotten worse during her mad dash to the bathroom. Her stomach seized, her tongue going dry. If she kept herself from vomiting again, it would be a damn miracle.
Yanking her hair out of her face, she hovered over the bowl, her queasy stomach rebelling when the stink of stagnant water slammed into her nose. She heaved for that alone, before moaning and bracing herself on her forearm.
As she did, she thought—once again—of her baby. Would she be able to lie? With some of Ash’s blood flowing through her veins, she might not be able to. For her sake, Callie hoped that she would.
If there was one thing she learned a long time ago it was that, sometimes, you have to lie. Without glamour or magic, it might be one of the only things she had to protect herself.
And if Mitch tried to get her to eat another piece of fruit, she’d shove it down his throat instead.
Ash stood three paces to the left of Melisandre’s throne, two steps back, his hands folded primly behind his back, his sheathed sword hanging off of his lean hip.
She enjoyed keeping him on a short leash, choosing him to be one of six Light Fae guards that accompanied her whenever she left the queen’s private quarters.
As if eager to prove that she owned him completely, Melisandre hadn’t punished him for his…
fling with Callie by stationing him on the edge of the realm.
Not at all. She preferred to keep him within arm’s reach, flexing her control over him.
Like now.
Only centuries of practice kept the expression of utter distaste from his face as she perused the nobles gathered in her throne room, all come to pay homage to the all-power Fae Queen.
It was another night, another ball, and if Ash had known that this was what his life would come to when he made his deal with Melisandre, he might’ve chosen death rather than this continued existence without his ffrindau.
Then again, since the queen had made it clear that to choose Callie was to essentially lead to his human mate being slaughtered in front of Melisandre’s throne, Ash had had no choice at all.
He’d spend the next millennia serving the false queen if it meant that Callie was safe on the other side of the veil.
In his mind’s eye, he remembered the flash of pain that crossed his white-haired human’s beautiful face when he was forced to act as if she was nothing to him but a diversion from his duties as one of the Fae Queen’s elite guard.
He couldn’t lie to her—as a fae, it was impossible—but he did everything he could to push her away so that Melisandre never guessed that Callie wasn’t just his ffrindau.
She was his bonded mate, since he’d given her the final touch right before Captain Helix brought Ash at swordpoint to the queen to answer for his distraction.
For weeks in the human realm, he’d neglected his post on this side of the veil. Melisandre had ordered him to watch over one of the weak points between worlds and he had—until a lovely human with long, white hair and bright blue eyes saw him.
Callie was one of the sealladh, a human with the sight. She could see through glamour, she wasn’t affected by a faerie’s charm, and even his compulsion spells failed on her. And, though he hadn’t believed it at first, she was his fated mate.
For those few short weeks, he wooed her and he courted her and, eventually, he claimed her.
He bonded her to him, but his pride at finally getting to sleep with Callie was short-lived as the captain of the queen’s guard finally figured out that he’d been busy with a human instead of doing what he was told.
Melisandre could have had him executed. Considering the two centuries she had been queen of Faerie was mockingly called the Reign of the Damned, he had expected her to.
She lopped off heads as easily as she pretended to show mercy.
He expected death, but what he got was infinitely crueler: a future without his mate as Melisandre left him no choice but to reject Callie after the queen used Ash’s name to lure Callie into Faerie.
He couldn’t save her while she was in Faerie.
To give Callie a second chance at life without him, he had Melisandre send her away.
And the queen did so if only because she got pleasure out of separating the two mates.
Then, to make sure Ash couldn’t find a way to twist out of his agreement to abandon Callie, she made him wear a pair of crystal cuffs that would trap him on this side of the veil.
As if he would’ve left even if he could. Chasing after Callie, if only to explain himself—and wasn’t that something, a fae explaining himself to anyone—was only putting a target on her back. No. To keep her safe, he needed to stay away, and after a while, even Melisandre realized that.
Or maybe she stopped using the cuffs because she wanted to tempt him to defy her.
And he wanted to. Oberon, did he want to. But he couldn’t. It seemed as if, after all the final touch, he owned more of Callie’s soul than ever before. A formerly volatile, capricious, self-obsessed fae, Ash had something more important than his own happiness: Callie’s.
So he did what he was told, even if that was standing behind Melisandre, guarding a queen he’d give anything to see deposed.
And when Melisandre gestured toward a striking, dazzling Seelie courtesan with her golden eyes enticing and her dark blonde hair done up in elaborate curls, he swallowed his distaste as he knew exactly what was going to come next.
“Aislinn,” purred Melisandre. “You’ve been working so hard lately. Why don’t you… mm… enjoy the rest of tonight’s ball?”
Right. As if he had the choice.
“Yes, my queen.”