Page 17 of The Wild Hunt

I glance at the painting of the cliffs I brought into the bedroom. Despite the unsettling feelings of the day, I find solace in the beauty I’ve captured on the paper. The vivid colors andsweeping forms remind me of why I came here—to reconnect with myself and find inspiration in the world around me.

I make tea using the herbal mix Bridget left, taking the cup into the bathroom to indulge in a hot bath. The warm water is soothing, and I let the steam envelop me, my body relaxing.

After I finish, I turn off the lights and slip under the warm covers. As sleep begins to claim me, my thoughts drift to green eyes again. And I try to convince myself that I want dreamless sleep.

Chapter 10

Cianán

Iwatched her from the shadows all day, the pretty little songbird. She intrigues me more with each passing moment.

The sounds she made as I played with her were like the finest fae songs I had ever heard. The idea that they came from a simple human fascinated me to no end. Mortals are supposed to be fragile, predictable creatures—yet she was different. I have never encountered a mortal with such an exquisite voice, such beautiful features—it all called to something ancient, something darker within me.

Watching her bathe and prepare for bed has been the highlight of my very long life, which should not be the case, and yet, it is. After twilight fell, I watched her return from Ennisvarra and prepare for bed.

My glamor continued to keep me shielded from her as I crept closer, drawn by an insatiable curiosity. Unaware of my presence, she seemed lost in her own world. I wondered what dreams filled her head, what hopes and fears stirred in herfragile human heart. I saw how she reacted upon waking this morning, how easily she dismissed what happened last night as a dream. Like I knew she would. Humans are so easily swayed, so quick to deny the impossible when it stares them in the face.

My fingers twitched with the urge to touch her again, to feel her tremble under my fingers, to feel the flutter of her heartbeat like butterfly wings beneath her skin. I wanted so much to test her more than what I did, to hear her breath quicken, to see her surrender completely. How much could I push her before she truly began to question her sanity? She has no idea what she called to with her voice, with her song. No idea of the darkness that currently plays with her, or what I plan to do to her.

There was something about her that set her apart from other mortals. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that was undeniable. It was something deeper, something hidden beneath the surface. My eyes had caught the faint shimmer on her skin, the telltale sign of fae blood. She had no idea, of course. It was hidden deep within her lineage, buried in generations of human flesh. Yet, it was there—enough to make her body react to the magic around her. The subtle gleam of her skin, the warmth that radiated from her… it was intoxicating. There was power in her, even if she didn’t know it. It took all my willpower to stop myself from going further, from cutting deep into that skin, letting her ruby red blood spill and tasting the magic hidden within.

But I will hold back for the time being. Last night had been just the beginning, a small taste of what was to come. The marks from my vines were enough to plant the seeds of doubt, but not enough to alarm her. I wanted her to question reality, to second-guess what she knew about the world. If I took too much, if I revealed too soon that I wasn’t just a figment of her dreams, the game would be over before it truly began. No, I would go slowly. Each night, I would push her a little further, play with her mind until she couldn’t distinguish dream from reality.

I will be able to tell when I next approach in the daylight how much I am affecting her, how deeply she’s beginning to question herself. The thought of seeing the confusion cross her face excites me—the momentary flicker of fear I know will be there as she wonders if it was real. She'll deny it, of course. Humans always do. But it will haunt her, that creeping uncertainty.

I watch her as she slips into bed, her delicate hands pulling the blanket over her pale skin. There’s something almost mesmerizing about the way she moves, so graceful and unaware of the danger that lurks so close. Her eyelids flutter closed, and her lips part on a soft sigh, as if she is already surrendering to sleep, to the world of dreams. I wonder what she will dream of tonight—will I appear in those dreams, as she hinted at before?

Either way, she will get a good sleep tonight. I’ll make sure of it.

I let my magic rise within me, it’s usually like a background noise, ebbing and flowing, swaying like a field of flowers within me. Always there just below the surface, always wanting to be used. The extra power and abilities provided by the Huntsman’s pendant are just an extra layer, like moonlight that shines on the field. It thrums through me, dark and intoxicating, and even from this distance, it’s only a minor flex of power to push her deeper into her slumber. That’s where I want her—where she is most vulnerable. Her breathing slows, her body relaxes further as my magic weaves through her, a gentle lullaby that sends her falling deeper into the abyss of dreams.

Moving through the shadows with ease, my steps are silent as I enter the cottage. The night air hums with potential, thick with magic and anticipation. I drop my glamor as I step inside, letting the mask of illusion fade away. There’s no need for it here. Not when I’m so close, not when she’s already unconscious, lost to the world.

I won't explore the dwelling tonight. There’s something far better waiting for me on the bed, something far more tempting than the simple curiosities of her human life.

Her.

The sight of her lying there, wrapped in her own warmth, her body soft and inviting beneath the covers, stirs something dark and possessive within me. She’s mine, whether she knows it yet or not. My plaything, my little songbird… until her wings break. A temporary distraction from the boredom of eternity. Certainly more entertaining than the hunt. I wonder how long I will be able to play with her before she succumbs to her mortality. Is it worth not giving up my position in order to continue playing with her for however long that is? I’m sure Lorcan could wait a little longer.

It would be worth it for me at least.

Reaching out, I pull the blanket away from her, revealing her naked body, no longer wanting the barrier hiding her from my eyes, from my touch. I know that no matter what I do to her, she wont wake. She may have dismissed my questions last night as a strange part of her dream, but I meant what I said. Her words do have power and she gave me permission to do what I liked while she slept unaware.

Reaching out, I wrap a hand around one of her ankles, her skin soft and warm under my fingertips. It’s so deceptive, not feeling her lineage here like I did in Faerie. But the need to taste her again is overwhelming.

Kneeling on the soft bed, I raise the ankle in my hand to my face. Her skin is still warm and even though she dried herself I can feel the lingering moisture in her skin from her bath. The faint artificial floral scent from the soap she used irritates me. I press my mouth to her ankle, my lips brushing before I lick the soft flesh there.

She sighs softly in her sleep and my eyes watch the subtle reactions on her face, the way her lips part again as I move my lips and tongue further up her leg. The taste of her skin is intoxicating. I trail kisses up her calf, savoring each inch of exposed flesh. My teeth graze her skin, not quite breaking it, but leaving faint red marks in their wake. She shifts again in her sleep, a soft whimper escaping her lips.

I pause, watching her face intently. Her brow furrows slightly, caught in some dream. Is it me she's sensing, even in her unconscious state? The thought sends a thrill through me. I want to be the shadow that haunts her nights, the whisper in the dark that makes her question her sanity.

I continue my journey up her leg, my lips and tongue exploring every curve and dip of her flesh. Her skin tastes of salt and something sweeter, something uniquely her. As I reach her inner thigh, I can smell her arousal, a heady scent that makes my head spin.

My fingers trail up her other leg, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She shivers in her sleep, her body responding even as her mind remains blissfully unaware. I hover over her core, breathing in her true scent that no bath can disguise, letting it intoxicate me further. Spice and smoke.

I resist the urge to taste her there, not yet. I want to savor this, to draw out her pleasure and confusion for as long as possible. Instead, I move up her body, my hands ghosting over her hips, her waist, her ribs. I trace the curve of her breast with my fingertips and then I pause, my hand hovering over her heart. I can feel its steady rhythm, the pulse of life beneath her skin. It would be so easy to reach in and pluck it out, to end this game before it's truly begun. But where's the fun in that?

Instead, I lean down, pressing my ear to her chest. The sound of her heartbeat fills my senses, a steady drum that quickensslightly as my skin touches hers. It’s as if she can sense a predator is upon her, but she can do nothing to fight it..

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