Page 59 of Defy the Fae

While Lark and Cove gush over her, Juniper glances my way. Her eyes gleam, and I fixate on them until a hand rests on my shoulder. My head swerves to meet Cerulean’s blue gaze.

“Well done,” he says with a grin. “To the both of you.”

I can’t help the smug smile that wraps around my face. “Guess this’ll make you an uncle.” My eyes travel over to the quiet, broody one several paces away. By way of forgiveness for him not telling us, I jut my chin at Elixir. “You, too, blabbermouth.”

Relief passes through Elixir’s eyes. He absorbs the words like water—swift and transparent—before inclining his head.

Everyone switches. Cerulean and Elixir approach Juniper to offer their best wishes, while the giddy committee of humans jumps all over me. Lark elbows me and makes a raunchy joke, and Cove pats my jaw, and both order me to spoil my family.

That new feeling of euphoria intensifies. From these players to Sylvan, I have a family now. Hell, if I won’t tear the world from its roots for them.

It’s midmorning, and everyone’s tired. My brothers and their women head back to their own turfs. I take Juniper home to the cabin, where we crash onto the bed, and I keep kissing her until those bright eyes close.

Way too many hours pass until I wake up, my eyes crusty with sleep. I groan, flop over, and reach for her, my hands as eager as they ever were.

Except my fingers feel nothing but air. All I find are rumpled blankets.

Nightfall filters through the window, illuminating the log walls and burning candles. Dusk must have come and gone a while ago.

She always does this. She’s always the early riser, I think with a sloppy grin.

I hustle out of bed, opt for a pair of loose pants instead of leather breeches, and ignore the long, bronze leaf earrings on the nightstand. If I put them on, she’ll hear me coming. It’ll be enough of a challenge to keep the huntress from detecting the thud of my hooves.

But we balance each other that way. She knows what sounds to pay attention to, and I know how to mask those sounds. Makes for a merry game.

It’s not as if we haven’t used this to our advantage in the past. I’ve introduced Juniper to roleplay—prey and predator, the hunter versus the hunted—and it’s a kink she’s fond of.

Except I’m less interested in that right now. Instead, I’m more interested in relishing this all-consuming, weightless feeling that makes me feel as if I’m fucking levitating.

It’s fun, being happy. It’s rare these days, feeling nothing but that.

I want to gloat. I want revel in this moment. I want to pack it in before the shitshow continues.

I amble down the stairs, expecting to find Juniper either baking in the kitchen, reorganizing the cupboards, or curled up with the Book of Fables on the couch. But when I round the corner from the foyer into the living room, I halt. And so does my breath.

In the room’s center, the trunk around which this cabin is built rises like a spine into the beamed ceiling. A small inferno blazes inside the fireplace carving through the trunk. The windows overlook the woods, where a cluster of oaks are veiled in mist and shafts of starlight.

Otherwise, it’s dark enough to see one’s reflection in the panes. That’s why my woman is standing in front of them.

With her back facing me, she studies herself in the glass while wearing nothing but a tunic that barely covers her ass. Her small fists rest on her hips, her green head tilts, and her eyes squint through the lenses of her spectacles. She uses them purely for reading, but she’s got them on now, as if she’s parsing through a line of text instead of her likeness.

Firelight skims her thighs and toes. With those tresses whisked into a messy updo—huh, not like her—and those spectacles perched on her nose, she looks every bit the sexy scholar. One who’s currently appraising her form.

My brain calls it quits the instant Juniper settles a palm on her stomach, draws a deep inhalation, and purposefully bloats out her womb. Like that, she turns to inspect the way it makes her belly expand.

Uncertainty shadows her face, right before something much better animates it. Those irises brighten, and her lips part in a slow, proud smile.

I damn near lose my mind. Watching my woman like this, seeing a preview of how she’ll look, I can’t think straight. The only thing making sense inside me right now is this blissful, drunken sensation.

Lust shoots like an arrow from my hooves to the tips of my antlers. In seconds, it has my blood in a tailspin and my dick standing up.

Juniper goes still, a bashful pink climbing up her throat. Her eyes shift to my reflection behind her. “Spying, satyr?”

I slouch against the corner of the wall. “What can I say? I have a crush on you. And you’re looking mighty spyable.”

“And…” She changes her pose to something simpler, her back straightening and palms spanning that pretty stomach. “And, um, what do you think?”

My mouth and cock have the same answer. “I think it’s a good look on you.”

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