Page 26 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

“Shrivel and fall off?” I repeat, pulling a pained face. “Why would you make someone’s dick shrivel and fall off? Is that the type of spellwork you’re doing on those things?”

She barks a laugh, the humor shining on her face and transforming her from merely pretty to the stunning creature I saw when she first breezed into my life.

There’s no chance my cock’s going to be anything but hard when she’s around.

And now she’s offered up exactly what it is she wants: the guild, delivered to her on a silver platter. A coven of sister witches.

Wren the golden witch wants a home, and she wants a business, and I’m liable to do just about whatever it takes to make all her wishes come true.

For a price.

CHAPTER NINE

WREN

By the time Caelan walks me back home, I’ve pointed out my friends’ homes and storefronts, some of the shops I like best, and some I haven’t wandered into yet, and I managed to extract a promise that he won’t do anything untoward with the information I’ve offered up.

The bargain I struck was easy enough to make, considering this has been the easiest evening I’ve spent since moving to Wild Oak Woods, the hours slipping by with laughter and Caelan’s quick wit.

He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before, not at all, from the way he’s curious and wide-eyed about nearly everything we come across to the way he seems highly put upon, reminding me of a noblewoman I once had the misfortune of working on a custom piece for when I was first starting out, years ago.

Now, we stand back in the warm, familiar glow of Witchwork’s Jewelry, Fenn long since disappeared into the woods to hunt or do whatever it is that fox familiars do when off-duty.

“This was really… nice,” I say, fishing in my pocket for the heavy iron key that will unlock the door.

“Nice?” he asks, a hint of a sardonic smile on his lips. “Consider me damned by faint praise.”

“You are so ridiculous,” I say, huffing a laugh and shaking my head in disbelief. I grin up at him, pleased but slightly confused by the budding pleasure deep in my chest. He’s not just beautiful, but charming, and clever, with a streak of self-confidence paired with self-effacing humor that resonates with me.

I didn’t know I had a type when it comes to men—frankly, I’ve always been too busy and concerned with… literally everything else about surviving day-to-day to even consider men as more than a passing way to scratch an itch.

A very particular itch, one I haven’t even thought about since moving to Wild Oak Woods.

Now, though, with Caelan’s sharp, otherworldly features, whimsical speech and debonair flair… I’m thinking about it.

That’s the thing about an itch—once you’ve thought of it, there’s nothing more aggravating than not being able to scratch it.

His nostrils flare, and he take a step closer to me. “Just nice, then, little witch? That’s all this was… was nice?” The word drips with derision, but instead of being annoying, it’s hilarious.

“Don’t get in a snit about it,” I tell him, arching an eyebrow. “It’s not your fault that my standards are so high. You’ll just have to try harder to meet them.”

He takes another step, and suddenly, I’m backed up against the heavy oak door, the lion-shaped door knocker digging into my shoulder.

One of his large, lavender hands splays against the door by my head, the other near my waist, not quite touching me.

My breathing grows quick.

Caelan’s caged me in, caught me like a mouse in a trap, his light blue eyes dilating as his breath warms the cold tip of my nose.

My eyes drop to his mouth, and I lick my lips.

Is he going to kiss me? Do I want him to kiss me? What if my breath is bad after the greasy street food? What if I’m being stupid by wanting to be kissed by an Unseelie fae?

My gaze darts back to his eyes, my breath hitching slightly as his head dips lower.

I stretch up on my tiptoes, reaching for him, wanting to close the distance between us, wanting to find out how bad of an idea this is?—

When he straightens, there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

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