Page 68 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

“Are you sure it isn’t the binding spell?” Her white teeth pull at her bottom lip, turning it bright red, and I swallow a laugh.

I don’t think she would take kindly to me laughing at her suggestion, even though it is patently absurd. “The binding spell?” I repeat, just to make sure I’ve heard her correctly.

She nods, her lower lip trembling slightly.

Carefully, I set the ladle on the plate I’m using for a rest and step over where Fenn has stretched across her floor. It takes me no time at all to take her chin in hand, her eyes wide and fearful.

“It’s not the binding spell, you lovely fool. I don’t know what I have to do to prove it to you.” I chuckle, the sound low and dangerous. Simply the thought of not truly being her mate disgusts me. “I accepted the binding spell because I wanted to be close to you. I could have broken your colorful circle if I wanted to. I chose not to. I chose you.”

“But—”

I stop whatever nonsense is about to come out of her mouth by planting mine on hers, claiming it. She tastes sweet as always, addictive and light against my tongue.

Making myself draw away, my gaze darts between her eyes until I laugh at her furrowed brow, rubbing it smooth with a finger.

“I can see you don’t believe me still,” I tell her, my ego slightly bruised but not surprised. “I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

Would that I could knot her again, take her right here, ass up on this chair in front of her fire, proving it to her with my flesh.

Wren is still too sore though, and knotting her again so soon is out of the question.

“Tell me what you’ve discovered about your sapphires, and I will try to figure out how to best help you find them.”

She sighs, launching into an explanation of the cave systems around the Ever Forest and Wild Oak Woods. The longer she talks, hypothesizing about what she’s read might mean, the more animated she grows.

Every word, every expression, is a gift, her trust in me hardly earned and completely shocking and endearing.

Oh, I think I will win the heart of my little witch, sooner or later.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

WREN

The rain finally lets up two days later. Sun streams through my windows, and Caelan left hours ago, apologizing profusely, promising to see me later, explaining he had to check on his friends and check in with Druze and Lila at Long Leaf Brews.

He was genuinely distraught, kissing me over and over again, as I assured him I understood.

Two whole days living in a blissful, snug domestic bubble with Caelan. He insisted on making every meal, massaging me, and giving me orgasms whenever I wanted.

I can’t complain.

I do, however, wonder at the binding spell I cast. It gnaws at me, the knowledge that maybe I did something to cause him to become so attached to me prickling under my skin like a splinter I can’t quite get rid of.

Caelan insists I’m wrong, but if I botched the spell and did this to him, I need to know.

At the same time, I don’t want to know.

I hope I am wrong.

I’ve gotten accustomed to the idea of him being around. I like his quick wit, his cocky smirks, and the way he takes care of me.

He’s a great cook, a generous lover, and has all the makings of a great partner, Unseelie fae or not.

I care about him. Which feels silly, feels too soon, like maybe I’m just naïve and wishful instead of truly thinking about the reality of what it would mean if I were actually his mate.

My parents had a happy marriage, a normal marriage, no mates at all, and though it was clear every day that they loved and respected each other, they made sure to tell me often that relationships, no matter your partner, were like a living thing.

My mom often compared their marriage to taking care of a plant—it required thought, and water and sunshine and fertilizer. It was work, but a job they were both proud to contribute to, and as a result, I got to see what a healthy marriage looked like: a partnership, full of love and respect.

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