Page 37 of Bound to the Fae Assassin

A shiver of desire went through her, and she got out of bed quickly, not wanting to encourage herself to think about it too long.

He had been as good as his word. She was still a virgin. But surely, he would demand pleasure for himself if they had a second tryst, no man could deny himself for long.

She feared even more that he had awakened a hunger in her that would demand that exquisite satisfaction again and again.

What happens when he goes back across the wall?

Surely Jericho would be well enough to work again soon. When that happened, this strange friendship, or whatever it was, would come to a quick and inevitable end. Blackthorn did not belong here, and she had no place in his world.

He would not stay just to give her pleasure. He was only here because of a bargain. But the memory of last night was still dancing in her blood.

“Don’t get used to it,” she whispered to her traitorous body as she hurriedly cleaned up and readied herself for the day. But what she really meant, but dared not say, even to herself, was don’t fall in love.

There were so many tales of foolish girls in the olden days before the wall. In each one, a young woman gave her virginity to a Fae man and then pined for him all the rest of her days.

There was the story of the poultryman’s daughter, who met a stranger on market day and gave him her virtue before he disappeared back into his own realm. Her father was so infuriated by her downfall that he made her sleep in the coops. She froze to death weeping one winter night at the gates to Swordbrake, begging for her lost love to come back to her.

And there was the water wench who drowned herself in her own well, seeking the echoing voice of the water nymph who seduced her and took her honor.

Farrow had not given Blackthorn her virginity last night, but if he had asked, she wasn’t sure she could have resisted. He had her so worked up so effortlessly. If he had not chosen to gift her that sweet release with his mouth, she might have agreed to anything in her despair.

Today, I’ll be strong. I won’t go with him on whatever surprise he has planned. I’ll stay with my parents, prepare for the bakery to open again, and keep out of trouble.

It was a bitter thought, but for the best. It was what had to be. She was a dutiful daughter and that diligence had served her well all her life. She could not let it all wash away because of a silver-tongued Fae.

But when she opened the bedroom door and stepped into the living area, Blackthorn was already there, sitting at the table with her father.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” her father boomed.

“Morning, Da,” she said automatically, trying not to look at her would be seducer.

“‘Bout time you joined the living,” her mother said with a smile. “Little coffee before your adventure?”

“I just let your parents know of our plan to gather herbs today,” Blackthorn said, smiling warmly at her. “Your mother has packed us a wonderful lunch.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” her mother said, actually blushing with pleasure. “Just a bit of bread and cheese an apple or two.”

“Our new apprentice is very disciplined,” her father said approvingly. “He was up with the dawn to help me milk the cows. They took a shine to him. Even Rosebud gave her best and didn’t try to kick him once.”

Of course. They are in his domain.

“They’re beautiful animals, and well cared for,” Blackthorn said. “The farmers of Greenfields could learn a thing or two from your husbandry here.”

Her father looked like his chest would burst from pride.

“That’s great,” Farrow said, hoping her smile made it to her eyes.

Her mother handed her a mug of bitter coffee, and she drank it standing up.

“What do we need for our mission?” Blackthorn asked her, standing. “I have never gone herb-gathering before.”

“A basket and trowel,” she told him.

“Then we’re ready to go,” he said, holding up a basket. “Our lunch and a trowel are inside.”

She nodded to him.

“The coffee was delightful,” he said, turning to her mother. “Almost as much as the company.”

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