CHAPTER EIGHT

I scowl at the feline fae. This is so damned annoying.

My bride sits on me still, her little hands plastered hot to my stomach to lever herself upright. My cock stirs, enticed by the feel of her weight resting on my thighs.

Mist pads closer, a wisp of smoke in my peripheral vision. Cat sith are nothing but trouble, able to sneak around invisibly, for all their large size.

"What do you want?" I grit out from between clenched teeth.

"I like you. You're amusing." She settles on her haunches, her green eyes glittering with mischief. "Things were getting a little boring around here."

I snarl, showing my tusks, ready to say I don't like her, but Taylor rolls the rest of the way off me, one hand reaching for the cat. She pauses halfway. "Can I touch you?"

"Of course." Mist dips her head like a queen accepting the rightful devotion of her court and allows Taylor to scratch under her chin.

A loud rumbling purr fills the clearing, and Taylor gives a soft laugh. "You're so soft! Your fur feels like it's made of silk."

I sit up as well. Much as I hate to admit it, Mist truly is a fine specimen. Underneath all that disguising fur lies the strong body of a hunter. Her paws are the size of Taylor's palms, with hidden claws an inch-long and sharp, ready to extend and razor any opponent to shreds. In their own way, the cat sith are more formidable fighters than the cu sith, though the canine fae are far more straightforward to deal with.

"You can't trust her," I growl.

"Untrue. You can earn my trust." Mist's slitted eyes snap open to spear me with a sharp green gaze. "Just because no orc has bothered to do so does not make a thing impossible."

I grunt.

"Well, I like you," Taylor says, shuffling even closer to the cat sith.

I long to reach out and yank her into my arms. Yet pride fills me as well. My bride is brave and open to new things. It speaks well of her ability to adapt to Alarria.

One of those paws reaches for my moon bound, and my whole body tenses, ready to spring. But the cat simply bats aside enough of Taylor's hair to expose the rounded top of her ear. "What are you? You're no elf."

"I'm human."

"Human!" Mist grins, wide and showing lots of teeth. "I've heard of humans. One of my great grandmothers visited your world and played with humans."

"Played how?" Taylor asks.

"Like this." Mist's long smoke-colored fur blurs. She fades from view, leaving one last lingering bit of brightness from her smile before disappearing altogether.

"Oh. My. God!" Taylor claps her hands together. "That's amazing."

The cat pops back into view and regally dips her head. "Of course it is. I'm amazing."

"I bet your great grandmother inspired the Cheshire Cat! Everybody thinks this one author made it up, but I found out it's older than that when I had to research it for a game."

Mist looks as confused as I feel, so the language issue isn't only me.

"Explain." Mist sets a paw on Taylor's knee, the claws extending just enough to prick the blue fabric.

"The Cheshire Cat is a talking cat famous on Earth for being able to disappear like you do. It got written into a popular book, and now it's used in lots of places."

Mist lets out an approving purr. "This is as it should be. Everyone should know the wonders of cat sith."

"Especially their modesty," I grumble.

"I was being modest." Mist's laugh sounds like a loud purr chopped into little pieces by the sharpest of axes. "If a cat sith wanted to, they could rule the human world."

I snort. "Like you rule Alarria?"

"I don't wish to rule Alarria. What is there to rule?" She swipes a paw through the air. "The Wild Fae are spread out. We have no true cities."

"There's Elmswood Keep," I grumble in protest. King Aldronn's castle is a grand stone edifice and the largest building in Alarria. It's where I'll live once I prove myself and become one of his guard.

"It's big." Mist tips her head. "But it's filled with orcs and unicorns. Why would I want to rule you?" Another ratcheting laugh.

Mist pads over to Storm and sniffs delicately before giving his nose a lick. "Deathsleep," she hisses. "How I hate the vile concoction."

"We're gonna do something about it!" Taylor rolls up to her feet, energy filling her entire being. "Krivoth's on a quest to find an herb that will cure it, and I'm going, too."

"How can this be true?" The cat spins to stare at me. "The cat sith know of no such herb!"

"Neither did the orcs," I say. "But we've formed a new alliance with dragons."

"Then I will help you on this quest."

"That's great!" Taylor smiles wide.

No, that's annoying, I mutter to myself.

Mist turns her glittering green eyes upon my bride. "Now, human, what is it you wish to do?"

"I'm Taylor, this is Krivoth, and that's Storm." She points to each of us in turn. "We were attacked by an ogre, and he might still be following us, so I need to learn how to use my power."

When she explains she can move things with her mind but needs practice, the feline leaps for a tree, her long claws—and her cat magic—sending her swarming up the trunk. "I will do as I did before and throw pine cones. You will practice."

The first few fly through the air, with my bride throwing up her hands in a dramatic fashion… and doing nothing to stop them. She frowns harder and harder, and the expression looks horribly wrong on her.

"Hold for a moment," I call up to Mist. Then I walk over to Taylor. "What's wrong?"

"I can't get it to work!" She stares at her palms. "I need a magic word or something! It's never this hard in movies."

I ignore that last strange word—I have a feeling there will be a lot of them—and focus on what she said before. "Do you think your magic requires a spoken spell?"

"I don't know." Her beautiful brown eyes search my face. "Does yours?"

"No, it's something I feel. It's inside me, a part of me." My fingers brush my chest. "You're making big gestures, but what are you feeling?"

"Frustrated." She puffs out a breath of air that stirs her bangs.

"Come." I gather her into my arms and press her to my chest. "Close your eyes and see if you can feel what I do." I thought this would be simple—I use my magic every day—but holding my bride so close stirs my senses and sets my heart racing. My arms tighten, pulling her ever closer as her sweet scent teases my nose. Her legs wrap around my waist, and I want to groan and slide her lower until she glides over my hardening cock. I long to bury my face in her hair, to nuzzle her neck and find the spot that makes her squirm with want. My—

"Are you actually doing anything?" Mist's amused voice comes from above. Why do I have the feeling the feline fae can see my every thought?

"Yes," I growl. "Something that requires quiet."

The cat huffs.

But she has a point. I promised to help Taylor, and her power can only aid my quest if she knows how to use it. Meeting her eyes—which are lovely and flecked with gold this close—I say, "Ready?"

She nods, closes those beautiful brown eyes, and presses a hand to the middle of my chest, right over my heart, which leaps at her touch.

Thank the goddess, long practice means I can reach my magic as easily as I said, because my bride offers more temptation than any man can face and remain clearheaded.

"I am Wild Fae," I whisper. "The source of my magic springs from the ground and roots in the very heart of me, as natural as breathing. I need only want it, and it exists."

With a more direct thought than I've used in years, I call my magic into being and step forward. My foot touches the needle-covered ground but makes no sound. Another silent step, and my body bends and twists, slipping easily between branches. Even carrying Taylor does little to dampen my abilities.

I circle the area around Storm, cutting through the trees more quietly than the wind. Taylor presses closer, her forehead digging into my chest as her hands clutch my shoulders. Her small body strains against mine, stronger than expected.

My mind flashes to an image of her riding my cock with fast, energetic movements. It stirs, more than ready to succumb to her enthusiastic nature, and I bite back a groan.