Page 70 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

“I’m so glad you’re here,” a familiar voice says, and I finally look up from the impressive spread.

To my surprise, I recognize nearly all the readers in attendance. A smile tugs up the corner of my lips, and for a split second, I wonder why I was so anxious about coming to the book club.

Ruby, of course, I met the other day, but Piper’s also there, waving at me from a deep teal velvet chair that looks like she might disappear if she sits too deeply in it.

Nerissa’s thumbing through her copy of the book on the fireplace hearth, her legs tucked underneath her as she scowls at the pages, her face nearly hidden behind her dark hair. A blonde elf’s ears peek out from a crown of complicated braids—I’m fairly certain that’s Lila from Caelan’s tea shop, and I make a mental note to go pick up some tea from her. Rosalina’s in deep conversation with Willow, her mouse familiar washing his face with careful pink paws.

There are plenty of faces that are new to me too, a satyress with delicately feathered hooves peeking out from a long floral dress, another elfin woman whose face I recognize but whose name I can’t remember, and a green-skinned and emerald-haired woman who I’d bet money is a dryad.

There is only a pair of men amongst all the women, and they share a kiss before one feeds another a piece of jam-topped cookie.

It’s a good vibe.

“The food looks too pretty to eat,” I tell Ruby, barely managing to catch Fenn as he leaps into my arms. He yips at me, and Ruby lets out a low laugh, her eyebrows raised.

“You should probably give him some sausage before he starts Maximillian to howling.” She jerks her chin at the fireplace, where the great big fluffy cat sits, his eyes glowing in the light from the fire, tail twitching at his side.

“Is he your familiar?” I ask, though I’m fairly certain that’s exactly what he is.

“Familiar is probably the nice way to put it.” Ruby laughs again, the sound so contagious I smile. “He’d probably say I’m his servant if he could talk. Grab some snacks, pull up a chair, and we’ll be getting started in just a moment.” She pauses, her lips pursing, and then she nods to herself. “I thought maybe we could… the witches, I mean, have a chat afterwards, that is, if you don’t have plans.” The words tumble out of her mouth, and she wrings her hands together.

I recognize the nervous gesture all too well. “Sure, of course I can stay.”

She lets out a long sigh, her shoulders sagging slightly. “Good, that’s good.” She beams at me, ushering me over to the table.

Piper stands up, her deer familiar snoozing on the floor beside her, barely moving as Piper steps over her velvety hindquarters, making a beeline for me.

“What is on your neck?” she asks, her brown eyes round. Her hand drifts towards my right ear, and I slap it away on reflex.

Piper’s mouth goes round, and then she covers it with a hand. “No,” she says on an exhale.

“It’s a bruise.” I pull my hair over it, slightly embarrassed. Why is it that I have to blush at everything? Why can’t I just have the complexion where nothing ever turns me red?

“It’s a hickey,” she hisses, grabbing my hair before I have a chance to stop her, peeking under it and then smiling in triumph. “A good one, too.”

“I think I fucked up,” I admit, covering my face as I whisper.

“What? Because someone kissed you so much they left a little love mark right there?” She’s gleeful, doing a funny little step-dance around me.

“No,” I say, trying to flee from her perusal as I make my way to the table laden with cheese and sausage and fruit and yummy-looking pastries. I don’t even bother with a plate, suddenly totally overwhelmed at the reality of what I might have done to Caelan to make him give me that bruise.

“Then what?” Her expression changes. “Did somebody hurt you? I’ll hex them so they can’t shit for a year,” she says, and there’s no chance she doesn’t mean it.

“It was Caelan,” I say around the cheese, then toss a piece of sausage to where Fenn’s patiently waiting. He snatches it out of the air, then disappears under an empty chair to enjoy his treat.

“So?” and then— “Oh. Ooooh.” She looks scandalized, her eyebrows disappearing into her chocolatey brown hair. “You made him kiss you?”

“No, I didn’t make him kiss me,” I wail. “I’m afraid it was a reaction to the binding.”

The conversation all around us dies, and I realize I’ve practically screamed my problem to the entire reading circle.

Oh, fuck. Fuck!

Lila’s staring at me, her brow wrinkled in concern, a piece of sausage paused halfway to her mouth.

Nerissa’s looked up from the mermaid/knight romance, her head tilted to the side as she considers what I’ve just yelled at everyone.

“Impossible,” Nerissa says smoothly, not even bothering to look up from her book.

---