Page 42 of Cursed Evermore
I went through the door, stepping into the crisp night air that unlocked the tension in my lungs.
I looked around. Heard the light laughter coming from the garden. Smelled the scent of ale wafting on the wind. I searched the shadows of the forest but saw nothing except the swaying silhouettes of trees against the indigo sky.
Where was he?
I looked down at the cloth in my hands, hoping for another message. But the
words hadn’t changed.
He was still waiting.
I just had to find him.
Gods, I was really doing this, searching for an elusive Fae male I’d made up.
I closed my eyes, trying to think. Where should I go? Where wouldhebe?
A gust of wind swept around me, lifting the hem of my gown and curling through my hair.
A prickle crept along my spine. I opened my eyes and looked toward the upper-level terrace. Something stirred in the air there. Something familiar, crackling like lightning in my blood.
Like the whisper behind the message on the cloth, it beckoned me to go up there. So, I did.
Dragging in a deep breath, I climbed the stone steps, my heart hammering, anticipation wrapping around my nerves like a fog.
I reached the top, and the moment I walked out onto the terrace, I stopped.
Because there he stood.
The Fae male from the tavern.
My blood stilled. Then surged back to life, galloping like a horse fleeing from fire.
He stood by the stone railing, still and unyielding.
Cloaked in midnight, his coat billowed behind him like wings torn from a storm. His hair was wild and windblown, tangled with menace. Even the points of his ears added to the alluring image of him.
He was exactly as I remembered. Dangerous beauty carved from shadows and starlight.
The air seemed to bend around him as he turned. And those silver-blue eyes… Gods, they pierced through the darkness, reflecting the moon's glow like twin pools of celestial fire.
He looked at me. And through me. As if he could see past every wall I’d ever built.
A smile curved his mouth. Rich with danger. Rich with things no one should ever want. He tilted his head, dragging his gaze over me from head to toe.
“Hello, Ziyka. You found me.”
Chapter 8
Elariya
“The Edge of Surrender”
His voice rumbled through my mind like thunder, yet it was poetic and velvety smooth, carrying an air of amusement and challenge.
I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't even think as I stared at him.
The world seemed to narrow until there was nothing left but this moment between us. This impossible moment where magical beings from the stories Grandmother told me stood before me as real as the moon in the sky.
