Chapter 17 Ivy
Ivy
I wake one morning with a cramping in my gut as I assume the foetal position.
Wonderful. My monthly bleed.
Oh, how I wish I had one of Mama’s healing tonics right now. Anything to rid myself of the nausea and pain and fatigue.
I’m too tired to get up. I must drift off again because it’s later when I become aware of a presence, one that wasn’t there previously. His gaze burns into me.
“You’re still in bed.”
A shiver courses down my spine at the timbre of his voice. He always sounds as if he’s singing. How a voice can be rough yet melodious still astounds me.
I groan, throwing the blankets and furs over my head. He can’t see me like this. No wonder I was so weepy last night.
Worst of all, he witnessed my crying.
“Normally, you’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed by dawn. It’s midmorning. Are you sick?”
I shake my head, too ashamed to look at him. “I’m fine, just…tired…”
A brush of wind at my back, and soon he’s standing right above me. He tugs the furs and blankets away, and I roll onto my stomach, covering my face with my hands.
“Ivy. What in the name of Mag—?”
He pauses, inhaling deeply through his nose, and the hair rises at the back of my neck. He falls still.
Too still.
It’s unnatural.
“You’re hurt…” he growls.
I cringe at his words. This can’t be happening.
“Why are you bleeding?”
My heart pounds, and then I finally find the courage to look at him. His eyes flicker like the flames of a sconce, his teeth bared in preparation of an attack.
Does he really not know?
“Has someone hurt you?”
I grab my pillow, using it to cover my face.
“Describe them to me, Ivy, and I will hunt them down and present you with their head.”
My heart splinters at the gory description, and I rise, meeting his shuttered gaze.
At least he appears to be in better health. The moment he used his tears to heal my wound, he seemed to decline.
Still, his eyes don’t glow as brightly, and his gold-green skin exhibits a sickly hue. He looks dreadful, just as he did when he touched iron.
I sigh. “Tegwyn, I’m not hurt.”
His jaw ticks. “Then explain the blood.”
My skin blanches when I spy the glint of a claw peeking out from his gloves, and it finally occurs to me that I have never once seen him without them on.
Is he ashamed?
Tegwyn follows my gaze, muttering a curse. Now he sheathes his claws, searching my face again.
He really is worried about me. It's heartwarming, I suppose, sweet even. He truly is a paradox.
“Tegwyn. No one has harmed me. I’m just…”
His brows jump to his horns. “You’re what?”
I stare down at my hands, cheeks burning red with shame. “I…have my bleed…”
He blinks. “Bleed?”
“As in my monthly bleed. I’ve had them every month since I turned twelve. Well, twelve and a half…”
A nervous sound escapes me, and I cover my face, wishing the ground would just swallow me whole and be done with it.
It takes him a few moments, but when the realisation finally hits him, he stumbles, tripping on a stalagmite. “S-shit!”
I burst into a fit of laughter, slapping my hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. It’s nervous laughter, but I just go with it, letting emotion override my senses.
He just looks so ridiculous.
“Fuck! I should… I need to…”
He makes a beeline for the exit, but I reach out for him. “No! It’s okay, you… weren’t supposed to know…”
Another giggle escapes me, and I just can’t help myself now.
Silly, clueless faerie.
“Of… of course…” he mutters. “How could I not have realised? A human female’s monthly bleed is legendary after all.”
Legendary?
He catches the confusion in my gaze. “Erm, Fae females aren’t quite so regular… Many of them don’t bleed at all. Others never bear young.”
His voice trails off, and I’m not used to seeing him this way. He really can be an odd creature at times.
Tegwyn runs a hand through his hair. “So…w-when it’s over, you…you are…?”
I lower my gaze. “Yes.”
He's talking about the possibility of my becoming pregnant once my cycle is over. It seems such an alien concept for him, but I can’t meet his eyes.
Not again.
I’m afraid of what I may find inside them.
He chuckles awkwardly, backing towards the exit again. “Commendable. Truly. Well, when you’re done bleeding, Ivy… I’ll be in the kitchen.”
And with a flash, he’s gone.
I don’t get up for some time. In the end, I throw the furs and blankets back over my head, wishing I could erase that entire conversation from my mind.
These next five days are going to be rough.
Tegwyn
I dig my claws into the wall, keeping a reasonable distance from Ivy at the other end of the tunnel.
I’m aroused, and every instinct in my body is telling me to run back up to her so I can fuck her brains out.
The thought of her sweet, fertile body has my mouth salivating, and my heart thumps faster and faster.
No matter what, I must resist. Even when my pounding heart drowns out all common sense, I will keep away.
Faeries fuck with wanton abandon, and I am no exception; I once bit the wing off a dryad during one particularly steamy climax, and her satisfied screams still echo in my depraved mind.
We lasted five whole days.
The Fae can go at it for a while, and we never tire.
But I cannot have those lewd thoughts about Ivy. She would never survive. I would kill her…
Her heady scent fires up my bloodstream, though, and I can’t rid the image of her flushed cheeks from my mind.
With a snarl, I yank on my cravat, using it to dab my face.
I must get a hold of myself.
I finally make it outside, veering right where I once spied her bathing.
The memory of her milky skin swivels up before me, and I don’t bother removing my clothes.
I slip right under the water, ridding my body of her heat and her scent.
My need vanishes instantly. Thank the goddess for making mountain water so frigid.
Living with her is going to be torture, but no matter what, I must have restraint.
I know exactly what has got me so hot under the collar…There’s a reason why a human woman’s bleed is legendary amongst Fae.
Human females are highly fertile, and it messes with my hindbrain, giving me the ridiculous notion of filling her with my seed so she can bear my young.
Mating with humans is how the Fae sustain their numbers. It prevents us from going extinct.
Pure-blood faeries are quite the rarity these days; Rogue Fae, in particular, like to interbreed with the human race, and the aftereffects are never pretty.
For humans, that is.
In fact, they’re catastrophic.
Hence why I seldom sleep with human females these days, and the ones I have bedded, I’ve had to be careful.
Half-blood faeries don’t have it easy in this world, and I’ll be damned if I’ll have a helping hand in creating one.
My own childhood was rough enough as a pure-blood Fae.
Besides, the urge to mate was just never there. Those girls had just been a quick, easy fuck.
Ivy, on the other hand… She’s something else, and I know it has something to do with why I find her scent so addictive. It’s the reason why mine has hints of musk lately. I’m going into a rut.
Fae have killed humans in the throes of passion, so no matter what, I must keep away.
Besides, I’m growing rather accustomed to her presence, and it’s been nice having another living, breathing creature to talk to.
So, it looks like I’ll be visiting this quaint little brook for the foreseeable future.
Should be fun.
Ivy
I finally emerge from my blanket cocoon by late evening.
Tegwyn is nowhere in sight, and for a split second, my heart aches for his presence. It looks as if that faerie is starting to grow on me.
Considering how we got off to a prickly start, I find it rather heartwarming. Maybe we really can become friends one day.
There’s water waiting in the pot, so I make myself a bowl of porridge, stirring the oats with the spoon until I get them the way I like them.
If only I had some berries…but that’s okay; you can never go wrong with plain old porridge.
I take my seat at the splintered table, blowing into my bowl to cool it down, and once the warm porridge settles in my stomach, I exhale deeply.
The cramps have subsided. Thank the heavens; I thought they would never end.
When I blink, Tegwyn is standing at the threshold, eyes glazed and ringed with shadows.
His clothes are dripping wet, and I drop my spoon. “Tegwyn, you’re soaking.”
He chuckles, a strange, mirthless sound. “Am I?”
I shake my head in disbelief, coming around the table to check on him. If he’s not careful, he’s going to catch a cold.
“Come on, let’s get you out of that coat.”
As I go to help him out of his long, drenched coat, he flinches, making me pause.
“What’s wrong?”
It's as if he’s afraid of me touching him, and I don’t understand. Was it something I said?
“I’m fine, Ivy…f-finish your porridge…”
I re-settle myself, trying to pretend that I’m not a little wounded by his reaction.
Maybe he was worried about accidentally cutting me with his claws, but I know he would sooner cut off his own fingers than hurt me again. I trust him wholly.
Tegwyn’s boots squelch as he claims the other chair at the table, and not once does he look my way.
I think he’s still horrified about what happened earlier.
It's understandable. He’s Fae; he wouldn’t know the first thing about human biology.
I know he’s been with girls in the past, but they were most likely Fae like him.
Do Fae females truly not bleed as much as their human counterparts? I don’t recall my mother ever telling me so.
She just warned me of their deception and trickery.
Tegwyn’s coat drips in the silence, and I chew my lip, trying to think of something to say.
I peer up. “Tegwyn. Why are you wet?”
He glances in my direction, yet his eyes go straight through me. I may as well be a ghost.
“Wet?”
“Yes,” I huff. “Did you go for a swim?”
Another heartless chuckle, and then he whispers, “Something like that.”
My brow furrows at the strange remark. “With your clothes on?”
He sighs, closing his eyes. “There wasn’t enough time to take them off…”
Silence stretches between us. Something is definitely off with him today. He’s standoffish, whereas before, he was caring.
This creature, who I once considered callous, healed my wounds with his very own tears. I will never forget the kind thing that he did for me.
He acted selflessly, giving up his own magic to ensure I was healed, and my heart hiccups as I remember the sensation of his fingers on my skin. They weren’t sharp or prickly, but warm and gentle.
I return to my porridge, wishing again for some berries. We have no honey or sugar in the mountain, and I shove my spoon into my mouth, trying my best to enjoy the bland taste.
That’s when he drops a cloth onto the table, and there I find an assortment of round, juicy berries.
My heart flutters. He must have hand-picked them just for me. There are a few nuts in the mix, too, and a smile curves my lips when I look at him. “Thank you, Tegwyn.”
The faerie doesn’t meet my gaze, but I do spy a similar smile curving his mouth. “Don’t mention it, princess.”
Now I add the berries to my porridge, noticing that they taste much sweeter than usual. Did he pepper them with magic?
Nonetheless, I’m grateful, and maybe I will just make it through these next few days.
Finally, he speaks, his voice husky with something I can’t quite decipher. “When your…bleed is over, Ivy…we’ll head east. There’s a market where you can stock up for the winter. People travel far and wide just to sell their wares there. All the berries you could eat and more...”
His voice ends on a slight growl, one that goes straight to my core, and that’s when I notice the change in his scent—sharp, potent, and musky.
His claws are drawn, digging into the wood of the table, and my heart flaps like the wings of a bird.
Now his strange behaviour makes sense.
I gaze down at my berries, muscles trembling as his scent smothers me like a warm blanket.
I must get a hold of myself. He’s Fae; I’m human. We would only destroy each other.
He comes back to his senses, turning my way. His scent vanishes instantly; did he use some kind of cloaking spell?
Now he tries his best at an amicable smile, and I can’t help it now. I snort at his silly expression.
What on earth has come over me?
His fangs gleam in the candlelight. I really am becoming accustomed to his grin.
Once upon a time, his fangs scared me, yet now, I look forward to seeing them every morning.
“I can’t wait,” I reply.
His heated gaze never leaves me, and I return to my porridge, hoping he doesn’t spy the colour my cheeks have turned.
Something has changed between us, and life inside the mountain really won’t be the same again.