Page 56 of Defy the Fae

I clamp onto her shoulders. “Juniper. For fuck’s sake. Say something, anything. Or at least, tell me if you’re all right.”

“I’m all right.” Her voice splinters. “The nausea passed.”

“What about everything else? What are you feeling? What are you thinking? Talk to me.”

“I don’t…I don’t know.”

Okay. If that’s her answer, this is really fucking bad. “Why won’t you look at me? Why haven’t you been able to face me since we found out?”

“That’s not true. I’ve been looking at you this whole time.”

Except it’s been taking a shitload of effort. Whatever else is shredding her, she won’t let it out. Some confession is pushing itself up her throat, but she’s refusing to let loose.

“What is it?” I press. “I’m here with you. Tell me.”

Juniper shakes her head. “I can’t…I don’t know if…”

Another thought jumps into my brain. My hands fall to my sides, my hooves thud backward, and the question lurches off my tongue before I can muzzle the fucker. “Is it me?”

Her head snaps in my direction. “What?”

“Have I ruined this for you?”

“Puck.” The confusion fades as Juniper translates the rest, which must be smeared all over my face, which causes her eyes to widen. “Puck, no.”

“You could’ve had a human. Not a satyr with a history of being a malicious asshole, a morally grey whore, and a marginally redeemed villain. You could’ve had someone better to be the father.” My throat bobs, a growth inflating there, making it tough to speak around it. “Are you afraid the babe will turn out like me? Is that why you’re unhappy?”

A strained moment passes. Juniper’s expression crinkles, then she narrows her eyes like I’m the dumbest dumbfuck in this forest.

At which point, she breaks from her stance and shoves my chest. “Fables, Puck! I’m not unhappy. Yes, I’m furious but not wallowing. And I’m not angry because it’s yours. That’s the good part, not the bad one.” With a grunt, she clamps a single palm on my cheek to bring me closer, then whispers, “Look. Closer.”

I do what she wants. My gaze probes every inch of her features, from the tilt of her brows to the facets of her eyes. Oh, I’d noticed the change in her irises a while back. From one day to the next, they’d turned from a coniferous spruce to a deeper hue, their clarity amplified like stained glass.

Juniper had also noticed it. And honestly? We’d assumed it was the result her extended life. She’d taken half my immortality. Why wouldn’t that show some physical signs?

We couldn’t have been more wrong. Now we know the real reason her eyes have brightened.

As for the random moments when she didn’t seem well, it had worried me. Mostly, she’d hid a lot of it. But when she hadn’t, she kept making excuses for why she wouldn’t approach Cypress for a remedy. Up until tonight, I’d been ready to drag her to The Heart of Centaurs.

Now we know the reason for that, too. And she’s scared of it.

That’s what I see while looking closer. Anxious lines stack under her lower lashes. Her chin is crinkling. And her right foot is doing that thing where the heel swings from side to side, her toes rubbing an impression into the dirt.

That’s what happens when she’s nervous and doesn’t want to show it. I’d missed that very telling sign.

My woman is afraid. Her left hand isn’t arrested on her stomach like she’s going to be sick again, or like she wants the contents of her womb to vanish. She’s cupping it like she wants to maintain a hold on what’s there.

My head whisks up to meet her frail expression, as naked and vulnerable as it’s ever been. This is what she’s been fighting to hide. She hates looking weak rather than indestructible.

The discovery loosens the knots in me, even while it punctures holes in my chest. “Juniper.” I take her hand from my face, thread our fingers together, and press my mouth to the fist we make. “Don’t you know by now? Don’t you know you can show me everything? Don’t you know how I’ll always see you, no matter what?”

Candlelight brushes streaks of gold through her hair. Her lips wobble, then split open and spill. “What if something happens to them, Puck? What if we can’t protect them in this war? What if I make a mistake, raising them? What if I don’t know how to do this right? What if I can’t teach them things? What if something goes wrong?”

I wait a beat. “Are you done, luv?”

“At present.”

My forehead lands against her. “And what if you stop what-iffing?”

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