Chapter 35

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CAELAN

H ash Beauchamp's old inn isn't too far from Familiar Friends, further from the bustle of the downtown area of Wild Oak Woods and settled on the edge of the Ever Forest. Sprawling willows line the edge of the forest, boughs laden with delicate leaves swinging gently over the green grass.

"I think I should hang lanterns in those, don't you?" I ask, staring pensively at the edge of the forest. Beyond the willows, oaks and junipers fight for space, rose brambles in their last white bloom before autumn sets in. Their thick, thorny vines climb up trunks and cascade across the ground, making the Ever Forest nearly impenetrable.

"That would be lovely," Wren says, her cool hand tucked into my elbow.

Boner bounds ahead of us, his limp fully disappeared, chasing a bright blue butterfly.

"I'm worried," she says, then stops and stares.

"I won't let anything happen to you," I promise her. "You are everything to me."

"This… this is the inn?"

A laugh trips out of me, some of the burden of the knowledge—what little there was—that Rosalina imparted to us lightening at the shock and awe on Wren's face.

Fenn chases after Boner, his thick furry tail low behind him—he pounces on the dog, and the two of them roll around in the grass in front of the inn, yipping as they play.

"It's… wow."

I chuckle again, raising an eyebrow as I study the place. "That's how I felt this morning."

Gone is the sagging wood porch, in dire need of tearing down, more willing to be a bonfire than an actual structure. In its place, a white-washed stone patio, perfectly fitted together, no mortar needed, a hallmark of fae construction. Fluted stone columns hold up seven archways on the patio itself, mature coral and peach-colored roses climbing them.

The inn itself is full of high arched windows, stained glass depicting scenes from famous fables in the three largest that now look into the main room. More white stone forms the walls, lush plants dripping from artfully placed ledges.

"It's stunning. This is… this was here the whole time? I can't believe it."

"You should have seen my reaction this morning. Imagine waking up in a completely different room." I snort in amusement.

"How did none of us know it was glamoured the whole time?"

"I don't know. A town full of magical creatures, witches, and now fae, and none of us knew it was here. Whatever glamour Hash was able to cast, it was like nothing I've ever felt. And I thought the Dark Queen was the master of illusion." It irks me, in fact, that I had no idea.

I'd like to blame it on being so entirely distracted by the beauty on my arm, but I know, deep down, it's more than that.

I snap a rose off one of the climbing vines, and she blushes as I hand it to her.

"It's beautiful," she murmurs, raising it to her nose and inhaling deeply.

"It pales in comparison to you," I tell her, stroking my knuckles across the soft skin of her cheek. "Come on, let me show you the rest."

She laughs as I tug her up the stone steps to the towering doors of the inn, pulling one open and loving the way she gasps as she sees the interior.

The wooden floors gleam, a blond color that soaks up the multi-colored light streaming in from the windows. Luxurious furniture's arranged in comfortable groupings, and there are two stone fireplaces on either side of the grand room.

A long white table stretches down the middle of the room, with enough seats for half a hundred guests to take their meals.

Wren's speechless, a stunned look on her face as she takes it all in. Her jaw drops as she looks up, taking in the high ceilings and white stone rafters, the gleaming chandeliers and the fresh flowers.

"I grew up in magic, with magic all around, and I've never seen anything like this."

"I understand the feeling," I say, crossing my arms over my chest and watching her touch everything, her own witch's magic probing each new piece she finds.

"Show me the rest," she demands, and I bow deeply, making her laugh.

"As if I could tell you no," I tell her, kissing her temple.

Wren frowns adorably at that. "You can always tell me no."

"As if I didn't know that," I agree, and she rolls her eyes, grinning before her mouth twists to the side again.

"What?" I scrutinize her face.

"I need to… say something."

I tilt my head, waiting.

She nibbles her lower lip, and I groan. "When you do that, it makes me want to splay you out on this table and taste you all over."

Her brow furrows further.

Perhaps that was not the right thing to say.

I pull her into my arms, my heart hammering, sudden terror gripping me at whatever it is she's going to announce.

"I know I'm your mate, right?"

"Of course. I'm horrified you're even questioning it," I declare dramatically.

That, at least, makes her smile, chasing away the thunderstorm in her eyes. "I care about you, a lot. Already. But?—"

My stomach falls, and I hardly dare draw breath.

"But I'm worried it might take me longer to feel the way you do, and I don't want you to be sad. Or decide I'm not worth it. Or decide waiting for me to give you my whole heart is taking too long. I don't want you to resent me."

It's my turn to stare, slack-jawed, at her.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbles, her hands fiddling with the ratty leather satchel she takes everywhere. "I don't want to hurt you?—"

My fingers grip her chin, forcing her to look up at me. Her eyes brim with tears and I bend down, kissing her lashes and tasting salt on them.

"I will give you as much time as you need, my Wren, my golden witch. Simply sharing the same air with you is a gift. I don't need you to give me your heart all at once. I will savor every piece, every moment you deign me worthy of. I've waited for you a hundred years, two hundred… I'll enjoy pursuing you every minute you allow it."

"But—"

My mouth closes over hers, and I decide I can't wait until this evening to do what I want with her.

I pull away, my cock hard and ready for her already. "I know I said I'd want you to nap, but I'm afraid I need you do something for me now."

"Oh?" Her look immediately turns mischievous. "What's that?"

I hesitate, worried this will keep her from trusting me, keep her from needing me the way I need her, but I'm a selfish bastard, and I decide I don't care.

"I need you to run." It comes out a low growl, and I'm so fucking hard my balls ache with need.

"Run?" she whispers, eyes round and curious and so beautiful I want to memorize exactly how she looks right now. "Why? Is something wrong? What is it?"

"I need," I grit out, the urge so fucking intense it feels impossible, "to chase you. To claim you. In the old ways."

"Oh." Her eyebrows shoot up. "Oh. Ooooh ."

"That's right, little golden witch. I need you to run, and when I find you, I get to keep you." I bend down, biting her neck, not hard, but enough to make her gasp, and the scent of her arousal fills the air.

So fucking good .

"I…" She sounds so dismayed, so scared, and it's so at odds with the needy perfume of her cunt that I draw back, terrified I've hurt her, or worse, made her rethink our relationship completely.

She takes a few steps back from me, putting distance between us, her lower lip wobbling as she moves.

I want to pounce on her. I want to sink my fangs into her lush skin, mark her and knot her.

But I would despise myself if I scared her more, and I stand still, my legs trembling from the effort.

"I would like to see you try," she yells, and with that, she takes off, racing away from me with a high-pitched giggle that sets my soul on fire.

It takes me a moment to gather myself, to realize she's not afraid—she's excited, and she wants me to chase her.

I fucking love it.

"I will always find you," I swear to an empty room, but the inn hears me, and I get the feeling she won't evade me for very long.