Page 13 of How to Keep a Fae

Mission accomplished.

I feel like an ass, but I also feel better that it’s out there.

“You never mentioned her?”

I shrug with a casual air I don’t feel. “You don’t stop fucking talking about her. I could paint every detail of her room, the exact shade of her hair, her eyes, even had I not seen it formyself.” A reluctant smile finds my lips. “I did not know about the fucking book.”

He huffs out a chuckle, and some of the tension eases. “It was fucking saucy, let me tell you.”

“Hopefully, she still has it next time I’m with her. I’d like to see it for myself.”

He growls loud enough to garner the attention of a passing server who squeaks and hurries on. And that fast, the tension is back.

I should have kept my mouth shut, but fuck it, months of listening to his gushing praise has pushed me to the edge.

“How many times,” he grits out.

“Three.”

“Did you know?”

“Yes.”

“When?” he demands.

“Instantly.” And I did.

“You never fucking said.”

“We’re not supposed to get attached,” I point out. “It was clear to me that you were.”

“And you’re not?” he challenges, calling me out.

I take a long drink of my beer, draining the tankard, and then I push out of the bench and stand. I look him right in the eyes. “I’m fucking obsessed. I would kill for a chance to make her mine and only mine.”

“Over my dead body,” he growls.

“If that’s what it takes,” I reply coolly and with brutal honesty to the man who I can admit in this moment of clarity has grown as close as a brother to me. Then I do what I should have done long ago and stalk away from him and out of the hall.

Chapter Six

Jayga

The week-long patrol that follows August’s revelation is the longest of my life. Our horses pick their way along the darkening path in the forest as the sun begins to sink. The wind is bitter and finds every gap in my cloak.

We barely speak to one another. I fucking miss him, even if he’s a grumpy ass half the time.

I might even like that about him. The fact he doesn’t speak unless it’s necessary. The fact that he listens—the fact that I could coax a smile out of him now and then. Yeah, those moments have been fucking gold. But now, whenever I look at him, I want to rip him apart.

He’s been sitting on this the whole time. He’s fucked her. I mean, I’m not delusional in this. I know she’s with others. Not just me and him. It stands to reason. I don’t know why I presumed he’d never been with her. I thought maybe he’d mention it if he did. He didn’t. He fucking kept a secret all thewhile I’m spouting on about her. Laying out my heart. And acting like a fucking town crier that I’ve all but fallen for her.

Love. What place does love have in this world? It has absolutely fucking none. This life is cold and hard but for those moments when we enter the undercroft and the scented rooms of the omegas, feed from and fuck them. But more importantly, afterward, when they nestle in our arms, all sweet and soft. Those brief times when we can talk and connect on a deeper level remind me this battle is worth fighting for.

I feel fucking betrayed. I don’t know why I do. It makes no fucking sense. I pride myself on being practical.

It’s the fact he hid it from me that hurts most.

All those times he told me about how he likes to fuck, taking his omega from behind, so he can go extra deep and make them twitch and come so hard they’re nothing but a limp puddle, purring in the nest… Fuck, that sounded hot when he spoke about it. I could imagine him doing it.

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