CHAPTER ELEVEN（Untitled）Naomi

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Naomi

My breath catches at the heat in Wranth’s eyes as he stares at my mouth. Tingles race through my body that have nothing to do with magic.

And everything to do with him.

He holds me several feet off the ground as if it’s nothing, his easy strength a turn on I never realized I had before today, because no human guy could ever pick me up like this. A growl rumbles through his chest, so deep I can barely hear it, even as it vibrates against my suddenly sensitive nipples.

There’s something fierce and primal in his expression, something I want to unleash. He’s fully present, everything in his body humming like a plucked string tuned toward me, and that kind of focus is really fucking heady. I imagine him being this intense in bed, and my core throbs.

When I can finally suck in a breath, his scent, all pine and leather and male, fills my senses. I lick my lips, as if trying to taste him on the air, and his groan makes me squirm.

“Wranth,” I breathe, fascinated by the way me saying his name makes his pupils blow wide.

“Is horniness a side effect of teleporting?” Shadow asks, voice dripping amusement. “Because that certainly appears to be the case.”

Wranth’s head snaps around, and he glares daggers at the cat.

Zephyr neighs a laugh. “I hate to agree with him, but you must admit he has a point.”

Wranth just growls, baring his tusks, but it’s too late—the mood’s broken.

I shove lightly at his shoulders until he sets me down. Then I start listing things on my fingers. “Okay, here’s what we know. One, we can only get twenty feet apart. Two, whoever moves away is the person who gets teleported back to the other. Three, the directions we’re facing when moving seem to dictate how we’ll end up at the end of the teleport. And four, this feels to you like when I pull you along after one of my teleports, but it doesn’t feel like a regular teleport to me.”

Shadow and Zephyr have both moved close, even though the latter still continues to graze. The panther says, “None of that explains what’s causing it.”

“You’re right.” I spread my hands. “Any ideas?”

“The phrase has always been ‘moon bound’ for those brought together by the goddess,” Wranth says. “What if the bond is more literal than we imagine?”

“Does this happen to the other couples you told me about? Do they get snapped back together if they get too far apart?”

He frowns and shakes his head. “No. Branikk regularly goes hunting without Grace accompanying him, and the others have traveled farther than twenty feet from their moon bound brides as well.”

“None of the other couples have the same types of magic you do,” Zephyr says. “It could be the combination of your two specific magics interacting with the bond.”

“You mentioned your magic.” My eyes flick to Wranth. “Can you explain what it is for me?”

“It’s tracking magic,” he says. “The ability to find a living being and track it, no matter how far it goes, no matter where it hides.”

“So you’re ‘tracking me’?” I make finger quotes, then let my hands fall when I realize he probably won’t know what finger quotes mean.

“Not consciously.” He rubs at his chest, his eyes going a bit distant. “Yet I always feel you, my bride, such as I’ve never felt anyone before. It’s no longer as urgent as the Moon Goddess’s summons that led me straight to you, but it’s always there.”

“Huh.” I don’t know how to process any of this. Before I know it, I find my fingers drifting over the spot between my breasts. “I think I feel you, too.”

“It’s the bond.” His dark eyes spear into me as if he can see straight to my soul. “We are fated.”

Light bulb moment. I snap my fingers. “Fated mates! I read a book with that.” Actually, I read an entire series when Matt bailed on both Ferndale Falls and our relationship, entranced by the idea of the one who’d never leave you, no matter what.

“But I don’t remember anything about fated mates having a tether like this. Are we stuck tethered forever? Will we never be able to go more than twenty feet apart?”

“I don’t know.” Wranth scowls. “Perhaps it’s temporary. A way to ensure you have the protection you need to reopen the doors of Faerie.”

“So once I open the doors, we’re no longer moon bound?”

“We will always be bound,” he growls, his voice vibrating with conviction.

“You just might not be tethered,” Zephyr says.

At home, whenever I ran across something new, I’d dive into research, find the perfect book or internet articles. We’ve done these basic experiments, and they’re great, but it feels like we need more. “Who has information on things like magical theory? Do you have public libraries in Alarria?”

“No public libraries,” Shadow says. “We have something even better. We have dragons.”

“Dragons!” A zip of excitement shoots through me, because who wouldn’t be excited by dragons? “As in talking dragons?”

“Of course. All fae can talk, no matter their form or what realm they originate from,” Wranth says. “That’s why we need the speaking stone when the doors of Faerie are closed and magic no longer flows freely between the realms. Its magic allows all of us to understand each other.”

“Dragons. I’m going to meet talking dragons!” I want to dance with happiness. “This is so freaking amazing!”

Wranth’s mouth quirks up on the left in a little half smile, his eyes warm.

Oh! Oh, wow. It’s the first time I’ve seen it, and it’s authentic and a little vulnerable in a way that takes my breath away. This is him, truly happy and amused, and it feels precious that he’s letting me see it. Is this what all of his scowls hide? A softer side he tries to protect?

I don’t want that for him. He deserves to be happy. I might have only known him a short time, but Wranth is solid and true and protective and giving.

It makes me want to give something back. I smile at him.

“We should do more experiments,” I say. And if those experiments fling me against that hard body, well, I’d be doing it for science.

“No.” His little smile falls away. “Dinner time approaches, and I need to find a way to feed us since I can’t hunt. My magic might allow me to track animals easily, but I still need to be able to sneak up on them and run them to the ground.” He lifts an eyebrow as he stares at me.

“Right. Can’t do that with me around.”

“And as soon as I put on a burst of speed and ran ahead of you, instead of getting my prey—” He smacks his hands together. “I’d be yanked back to you.”

My stomach gives an angry growl at the thought of lost dinner. I rub a hand over it. “We can eat more hardtack.”

“That’s hardly an adequate meal.”

“I’ll hunt,” Shadow says.

We both spin to face the big cat. “You’ll what?” slips from Wranth right as I say, “Thank you!”

“I need to hunt for myself.” He gives a paw a lazy lick. “I can hunt for you, too.”

Wranth faces the forest and goes still, every line in his body tightening with silent effort. Magic tingles through the air. He turns fifteen degrees right and points. “That way. There are several rabbits in that direction.”

“Handy skill, that.” Shadow stalks toward the trees, his bushy tail waving like a jaunty flag. “Be back soon.” He disappears as I blink after him, unable to tell if he used magic or simply slipped behind a tree.

Wranth stomps over to where we left the packs on the other side of the meadow, and I follow. When he reaches them, he crouches and pulls out a knife to begin hacking at the grass. In less than a minute, he clears a wide patch of ground, leaving only the deep brown of exposed dirt.

In another five, he’s gathered tinder and kindling from the woods and has a small fire going. Once it’s burning well, he stands and holds out a hand. “Come. We’ll gather some greens.”

He leads us back to the river. We’ve ridden through the forest for most of the day, but this is my first chance to walk it on my own. The trees tingle slightly with magic, and even the moss seems to glow a healthy green. We pass a clump of mushrooms with dusky purple pointed caps.

“Those you can eat,” Wranth says. Then points to huge red toadstools covered in white spots. “Those you can’t.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Everything’s just a little different from the woods I’m used to, and I never had to forage for food.”

He grunts, but seems pleased, pointing out more plants as we go.

Zephyr carried us this distance in only a couple of minutes, but even hurrying, I can’t match a unicorn’s speed. I’m a little winded by the time the sound of the river filters through the trees.

Wranth strides straight to the stand of cattails, then pauses, studying the plants. His knife flicks out, cutting off several of the young flower buds which look like little heads of corn, complete with a wrapper of leaves. He squats down, his fingers sliding down those same plants to dig up their roots, which look like long, thin potatoes. He cuts off the long, grass-like leaves and leaves them to decompose and fertilize the remaining plants. Then he uses the river to wash the mud from the tubers. “Let’s get these to the fire and start them cooking.”

Back inside the trees, birds flit from branch to branch, singing sweet songs, and a chipmunk darts through a clump of ferns, making the fiddleheads wave like a little flock of question marks.

I whisper, “It’s so beautiful here.”

He grunts agreement, and when I glance over my shoulder, there’s that crooked little smile.

The one that makes my heart light.