Page 61 of Feral Possession

“I win.”

“Plfft,” She blew a raspberry and stormed away in a huff. “Fine. You win. Come sit with me. I need to catch my breath, though I doubt you have the same problem. That bum leg of yours seems to be behaving itself tonight.”

Huh. So it was. He’d no need for his cane since… since he’d stepped into the shadows and the demon surfaced. He gritted his teeth.

“Need me,” snarled the smug voice he’d come to hate.

“Be gone,” he sent a mental snarl in return. He’d not have the creature spying on his time with Dove. Bastard was already far too possessive with her.

When silence followed, Marcus settled beside his Chosen on the stone bench. “You’ve been busy.” He brushed a silken curl back from her forehead, guiding it under her ivy crown. In this moment, she looked every bit the part of the woodland faerie. Ethereal. Beautiful.

“Oh, that.” She patted her creation, cheeks darkening. “Just a little something I whipped up.”

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Trouble working. I needed a break.”

“How’s it going?”

“I think I’ve found everything I need. I’m just double and triple-checking. This is too important to mess up.”

“You won’t,” he assured her because the thought of her failure was too much to consider. He had too much riding on her success.

“Right,” she muttered in an unconvincing manner. Then she brightened, gazing out at the garden. “Did you ever come here as a child?”

“Sometimes. This was my mother’s special place. When I wasn’t with my tutors, I’d sneak out to watch her in her garden. It was the only time she let her guard down.” Here, beside Dove, he found himself doing the same, his damaged muscles relaxing.

She darted an apprehensive glance to one of the hedges and back. “Your mother. I, uh…” Her plump lips opened and shut. Then she exhaled, shaking her head.

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said a bit too brightly. “Why do you suppose this is the only place she could be herself?”

At her question, his lips curled. It wasn’t surprising that Dove would find it hard to understand. From what he’d seen, she was herself every moment of the day. “Appearances had to be kept at all times. Even in front of the staff.” He snapped a long-stemmed rose from the bush beside him and handed it to her.

“It’s a shame your mother felt she couldn’t relax in her own home.” Dove accepted the gift, pressing her face to the bloom and breathing deep.

“One must appear to be in complete control at all times, otherwise enemies will take advantage of your weakness.” His uncle’s teachings echoed in his head. “Those who are vulnerable become targets. Targets wind up dead.” Marcus had never been more vulnerable than he was right now. The bull’s-eye Helen had painted on his chest grew larger with every passing moment.

Dove lowered her head, toying with the rose’s petals, saying softly, “Is that what happened to your parents? Someone targeted them?”

“They were killed within a year of each other. They trusted the wrong people and were betrayed. When I was old enough, I made sure the male who was responsible paid for his crimes. Then I claimed my rightful position as Lord of House Othonos.”

She peered up at him, studying his tightening countenance before frowning. “Well, I, for one, find appearances completely overrated.” She sprang from the bench and thrust out her rose sword. “Even if I was the picture of strength and vitality. Hi ya!” She stabbed her invisible attacker, blooms tumbling. “Those with power would still try to smash me under their thumbs.”

“That’s because you foster a prey mentality when you could be a predator.” He’d seen her tests’ scores. If she were any more powerful, the Council would have executed her. What a loss that would have been. He shook his head at his own musings. If he wasn’t careful, she’d have him quoting poetry to her.

“Ha! Me? A predator?” She snorted, then catching his scowl, smacked her hand over her mouth. “Oh, sorry. You were serious.”

“You have a tremendous gift. Power over the spirit realm. You could do incredible things with it if you desired.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved her flower at him. “That’s what the Council wants everyone to believe so they can keep faeries under their control. Seriously, what would I want with world domination? Sounds like a lot of work to me. All those enslaved souls depending on you, all that responsibility. No, thanks.”

He studied her, bemused. No, he imagined Dove would have little use for world domination. She was a wildflower blowing in the wind, flying wherever it took her. To his surprise, he rather liked that about her. Most of the people he spent time with needed something from him. Most were power hungry, driven by a thirst for more. Dove seemed to want for little.

“Oh shoot.” She winced, examining her finger.

Marcus’s nostrils flared. Her delicious scent rolled through his system. He was on his feet before he registered the action.

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