Page 19 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

My stomach grumbles, and my mood grows blacker by the second.

What would my parents say if they could see me now?

The jewel-tone shawl my mother wove for me years ago hangs on a hook by the front door, and the knotty wood floor squeaks as I hurry over to it, wrapping it around my shoulders. My stiff fingers fumble with the key as Fenn darts out behind me and I finally manage to lock the door.

A warning rumble from Fenn sets the hair on the back on my neck standing up.

Slowly, I turn, and the reason for Fenn’s upset becomes apparent immediately.

The Unseelie fae from a few days ago… was it last week? Already? I frown, rubbing my eyes and managing to scrape the key over my cheek.

“Ouch,” I say, pressing my fingers to the wound.

“You’ve hurt yourself,” he says in a low voice, stepping closer.

He’s taller than I remember, and as I inhale, I catch the scent of lavender and tea.

My stomach growls, and I blink up at him owlishly, completely out of sorts.

“Have I upset you?” he asks.

“No,” I tell him, frowning. Frowning harder, at least, because I’m pretty sure I’ve been frowning since I woke up this morning. Maybe since I fell asleep last night.

“But you are upset,” he continues, taking another step towards me. “You’re bleeding,” he says, and before I can get together the brainpower to move, he’s cupped my chin between his elegant, strong fingers. A handkerchief appears out of nowhere, and I wince as he dabs the fabric against the small cut on my cheekbone.

“Thank you,” I tell him, embarrassment at how I must look starting to overpower my shock at seeing the unexpected male. “Caelan, right?”

The fae goes still, so still that it’s all too clear how very different he is.

Otherworldly, from the tips of his long ears to his too sharply handsome face to his long, perfectly lean, muscled proportions.

“Did I say it wrong?” I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m sorry. It’s been a very long day, and I am out of sorts?—”

“You said my name more perfectly than anyone has ever said it before,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile.

A belltower in the town center chimes three times, and I startle at the sound.

“Seven o’clock,” I say. “I let time get away from me today.”

My stomach makes another inelegant noise and I cringe, too tired to be afraid of this fae that I know I should be wary of.

“You’re hungry,” he says, a glint to his icy blue eyes.

“Yes.” I pull my shawl closer around my sleeves, torn between wishing I’d put on something nicer and that I hadn’t ventured out of my safe little shop at all.

“Let me take you to dinner,” he says, cocking his head at me, that hint of a smile almost enough to curl my lips in response.

“Why?” I ask, looking down at myself. “I’m a mess. I have been working since daybreak, and I am afraid I would be terrible company.”

“Because you said my name like it was meant for your voice.” He says it so seriously that I laugh, because surely he’s joking.

He tilts his head, and my laugh cuts off suddenly.

“And my boss told me to explore the town.” He grins down at me, the tip of a pointed fang catching on his lower lip. “If you’re not too tired, maybe I could coerce you into showing me around in exchange for a meal.”

“You found work then?” Self-conscious, I tuck a piece of stray hair behind my ear, which immediately tangles in my stiff fingers. I am a mess.

Ugh.

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