Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CAELAN

D aybreak is not my finest hour. Never has been, never will be. I'm fairly certain the Dark Queen outlawed daybreak centuries ago in the Underhill for the same reason.

Still, I'm outside the conniving little witch's shop as the sun begins to peek across the horizon, a pack on my shoulders and a sneer on my face.

It wouldn't do to let Wren know just how much I'm enjoying the fact that she not only managed to bind me to her, but also was bright and devious enough to see an opportunity to best the dwarves and help herself.

It wouldn't be nearly as fun if she knew I wanted to trap her into this exact situation, anyway.

I whistle tunelessly, my hands jammed in the pockets of the sturdy workpants Druze lent me when I made my way back to Long Leaf Brews with an explanation of why I wouldn't be there the next few days, or weeks, even.

Silent and stoic as ever, the huge dryad managed to fill up a pack of supplies for me as well as provide clothing more amenable to the journey Wren and I are about to go on.

As for Lila, she gave me a quick hug and told me to come back in one piece.

I find I like both of them much more than I should.

Dreadful idea.

I raise my hand to knock at the door to Witchwork's Jewelry, slightly concerned that I haven't seen my minx of a witch yet, when I smell it on the air.

A fucking fae.

A fucking Seelie Court fae, too.

Rage stiffens my back, and my eyes narrow as I peek into the shop windows, intent on finding the source of the offending stench. It's empty, though, as far as I can see, but that awful rosehip and lilac perfume doesn't lie.

There's a Seelie fae in there somewhere.

"Right on time," a voice chirps from behind me.

I bang my head into the window, startled by the words.

Wren stands there, in fitted breeches that curve around her thighs and show off a plump ass ripe for squeezing.

"Did I scare you?" she asks, her hand fluttering to her chest as though I've managed to startle her, too.

"I am never scared," I tell her stiffly, then dip at the waist in a perfunctory bow. "What's the plan, oh mistress mine?"

"I didn't mean to offend you," she says mildly, eyebrows arched. The dawn breaks across her golden hair, combed and shining, piled into a fountain that spills down her back. "What were you looking for in there, anyway?"

"I smelled something disgustingly floral."

"Hm." She lifts one shoulder, then waves a book at me.

I tilt my head, regarding the wicked minx before me. Not nearly wicked enough. Not yet, anyway.

I'd start by pulling that deep green blouse from her body, and kiss my way down her chest, paying special attention to her breasts. What color will her nipples be? Pink like the inside of a conch shell? Sandy brown? Or maybe some strange color like the dryads and nymphs I've wet my cock in.

I'll have her begging for the same by the end of this, and the thought brings a real smile to my face.

"What?" she asks warily.

"Just thinking about how I'm going to undress you and make you my plaything."

"Stop that at once," she says with a sniff, opening the book in her hand and displaying a map.

I lean closer, peering at the watercolor rendering of Wild Oak Woods. "Is this supposed to help us?"

"It's a map." She stares up at me with her big ocean-blue eyes, all innocence and beguiling magic.

It's not a map, it's a trap, but I'm no longer sure who's behind it.

"If you have a map, then why do you need me?"

"I can't go alone," she says, rolling her eyes.

Oh no, she's not getting out of this that easily.

"Right. So you have no one else you could have asked, you just had to bind me to you?"

A consternated noise of frustration burbles out of her throat and I sidle closer to her, loving how easy it is to get her worked up.

"I have to say, little Wren, I'm flattered by all this attention and thought you've given to me," I purr. "You've leveled the playing field between us now. I was on my very best behavior with you the other night, and all that hard work went down the drain when I didn't have to be. What a relief."

Her nose wrinkles adorably.

I lean closer, blotting out the smell of the Seelie fae with Wren's magic scent, dark places and metal and the faint earthy musk of her skin, filling my lungs with her as if I can draw her very essence inside me.

"Are you trying to say you're going to be awful to me just because I've bound you to me?" Her lower lip juts out, and I poke at it until she bats my hand away.

"No, I'm saying I'm done holding back." Irritation flashes through me at her audacity, tempered by the fact that same audaciousness is completely alluring.

"Holding back?"

"I am not some Seelie fae of sunshine and light and butterflies and summertime," I grit out, grasping her chin in between my fingers.

She gasps at the contact, staring daggers at me from those seaside eyes.

"I am of the Underhill. I am made of magic and mischief, and you should have remembered that before you bound yourself to a monster." My fangs extend, the sharp points of them on full display.

Wren sniffs, jerking her chin away. Her fists ram onto her hips as she stares up at me, all defiance and fire. "I've never met a monster who would eat sweets and try to make me laugh."

Warmth spreads across my chest, and my fangs retract.

She pats my chest. "See? Not such a scary Unseelie after all."

Wren turns on her heel and sets off down the cobblestone path, heading straight for the Ever Forest that borders the town of Wild Oak Woods.

Leaving me bobbing after her like some kind of child's toy.

Not such a scary Unseelie after all.