Page 47 of How To Please A Princely Fae

A shiver of dread goes down my spine.

When a mournful howl goes up, though, and Chirp wings silently from the room, I relax.

“It’s Nerissa’s wolf familiar,” I tell Kieran.

“Great timing,” he says drily, raising an eyebrow. “So much for your rules.”

I snort in amusement, but make myself get up and go to the front door.

Sure enough, the wolf is out front, holding a rolled parchment in between delicate teeth. Chirp glides through the front door, slowing to perch on a large juniper at the edge of the forest, watching the wolf with wide, cautious eyes.

I hold my hand out and the wolf deposits the letter in my palm before turning and loping back into town.

“The coven is holding an emergency meeting,” I say, unsurprised but unsettled all the same. “They want to meet at The Listening Page.”

“I’m coming with you,” he says, his hand on the small of my back.

Not a moment later, he’s wrapped my thickest coat around my shoulders, a soft, fuzzy scarf wound around my neck.

“What about you?” I ask him. “Won’t you be cold?”

“I’m fae,” he says, as if that answers everything.

I tilt my head.

“It’s cold in the Underhill.” His lips purse slightly, and I wonder if he’s remembering more than just that. I don’t know if I even want to pry.

“All right,” I say, closing the heavy arched door behind me and locking it with the key I keep at my waist. “We can find you a coat while we’re out. I would hate for your wings to get frostbite.”

His wings ruffle in response, the vibration soothing as he places my hand in the crook of his elbow. Chirp wastes no timein joining us, lighting upon the leather patch on my shoulder I sewed in for that very purpose.

“So, rules,” Kieran says, steering me towards where the cobblestone path that leads into town begins. My greenhouse and shop are too large to fit in the town proper, and while the trek into town can be obnoxious, usually I enjoy the solitude of the walk.

Kieran’s company is welcome now, though, and my cheeks pink. My muscles all clench reflexively, in memory of the pleasure he’s just wrung from my body.

“Right,” I say, the word a bit more flimsy and weak than I anticipated. “I think we should take it slow.”

His hand covers mine, warm and strong and possessive enough that a shiver goes down my spine, one that has nothing to do with the cold.

“It, as in…?” he asks, and I blink, glancing up at him.

His forehead’s smooth, no sign of sarcasm on his handsome face.

“Er,” I manage. I’m not sure there’s any putting what we want physically from each other back in the bag. “As in the whole, ah, mated thing. The forever thing.”

“Well,” he draws out the word, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

I drag my attention away from him, studying the frosted cobblestones underfoot instead. Much less attractive than the fae at my side. At my arm.

“The thing about forever is that we have a long time to go at whatever speed you wish.” There is a touch of irony in his inflection, but he seems more amused at my word choice than making fun of me.

Caught between embarrassment and that intensewantfor him that I’m apparently utterly unable to shake, I glance back up at him and attempt to clarify.

“I mean, we should take our time to, you know, get to know each other?” It comes out wispy, unsure, and I swallow my apprehension and tilt my head up, irritated at myself.

Heavy clouds drape over the sky, a thick blanket of them that promises wet weather. My nose scrunches because it looks like snow—but certainly it’s much too early in the season for that.

“What do you want to know about me? What will set your mind at ease?” he asks, his hand still covering mine.

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