Page 9 of Dark Hunter's Touch
“And you said the hunters won’t cross moving water.”
She nodded. “That is why I took a cabin surrounded by streams.” She tugged him onward. “There. See the bridge? That’s the only way onto my island. At least I’ll have some warning when they come.”
Where the rickety bridge and stream had carved out an opening in the forest canopy, a blooming cherry tree struggled to make a place for itself between the dark pines. At the bridge, he tugged her to a halt on the mossy wooden planks. “And what will you do with that warning?”
He pitched the question as if merely curious, but she heard the anger in the rumble underneath. “I can’t hope to stop them forever, but I will not let them take me back.”
“What are you saying?”
She set her jaw. “I can’t explain the faedrealiito you.”
He gripped her arms and stared his command into her eyes. “Nothing is worth killing yourself.”
“Exactly.”
“Right.” He blinked and released her. “Well, that was easier than I thought it would be.”
She rubbed her arms where the hot echo of his grasp was fading. “I meannothingis exactly why I’d…why I won’t go back. The court life of a sylfana is nothing but a timeless, thoughtless mist of idle pleasures.”
Vaile’s lips twisted. “Sorry to sound dim, but I’m not seeing the downside of eternal beauty and bliss.”
She didn’t return the wry smile. “Our life span runs centuries longer than humans’, but we aren’t immortal. It justseemslike forever.”
“Right. Now I see how death is your only other option.”
She squared her shoulders, though her conviction wasn’t quite strong enough to tighten her wings. “Many humans are driven mad by a single night in our presence. And I think even my own people have not entirely escaped that fate. Your poets call us merciless. Your church calls us devils. Your adults call us bedtime stories. I just wanted to live for a little while. Simply…live.”
“And fairy princesses aren’t allowed to live?”
“They won’t let me have what they are too afraid to want for themselves. Even those of us who walk in your world for a while always return to the court. In the end, we lock ourselves away from what we most desire.”
“Maybe they have a reason to be afraid.”
She stared at him, trying to see past the rigid lines of his expression. But she’d never been strong enough to break anyone else’s illusions. “A man who dives off cliffs with strange fairies doesn’t know the meaning of fear.”
“Oh, I have fears.” He stepped closer to her, so close that a kiss was almost fated.
She tilted her face up. “I can’t imagine.”
“I was afraid I would never have the nerve to catch you on that beach. I was afraid I’d spend the rest of my life with the image of you running away from me.” In the murk, his pupils were blown wide, like a night-stalking predator, but his smile—the quirk of that soft, full lip—was a temptation she couldn’t resist. “And right now, I’m afraid you’re not going to ask me in.”
So close he stood and yet he didn’t touch her, but the memory of his kiss, of his hands roaming her skin and her wings, clouded her mind like the Lord Hunter’s confusing mist. She had no doubt Vaile’s mouth could lead her astray.
And maybe this time, she deserved it.
She wavered toward him. The cherry tree shivered in the breeze, and pale blossoms drifted around them. The will-o’-the-wisps danced between, illuminating the petals.
Vaile’s lips—which she was watching very closely—quirked. “See? Even the tree gives its blessing.”
“That was just me.” He wasn’t even touching her, but she felt compelled to tell him. “The fae are mostly illusions and lies, but we all have one gift, a knack, that is real and true. Mine is an affinity for breezes. They bring me sweet scents and little presents, like the cherry blossoms. Nothing powerful. The sylfaniia rarely are.” She closed her eyes. “Your knack seems to be making me babble.”
“Like the brook under the bridge,” he agreed.
“Sorry.” She bit her lip.
“Don’t be. I want to know more about you.”
“We don’t share, usually. According to your fairy tales, we won’t say our names—and we are private about that, because words have power—but it is our knack that reveals our true selves. Telling our knack is more intimate than…” This time she managed to stop herself before she said something embarrassing.
