Chapter 27: Hunter

When Lottie finished most of her sushi, sharing some with me because she's that thoughtful, we went over to pick out our popcorn before the movie started. She couldn't just decide on one, so we have three bowls laid out on the blanket at our side: one with M we do look good together.

The last thing I want to do is ruin a good mood, but there are a few things I want to know about Lottie and why she's here. She mentioned rather animatedly that her mother was extremely controlling of her life, but why abscond to a hidden town in the woods and evade all contact with anyone?

"Lottie, can I ask you a question?"

Her dark blue eyes turn upward to catch mine, and she remains relaxed and at ease.

"Sure."

"Why did you leave LA? I know you said your mom controlled a lot of your life, and you wanted to get away from her, but why leave completely? Why hide out here and cut all communication with anyone? Don't you miss singing and your life there?"

Her gaze slides away from mine, focusing on the almost fully developed photo in her hands. She seems to draw strength from it somehow. On a deep exhale, she begins her story.

"It's not just her control over my schedule and wardrobe. She's highjacked my life, made it something I didn't want. Doing everything that she decides would make the most money and create the most fame.

"When I was fifteen, and she told me she got me a record deal, I was ecstatic. I wanted to sing and play and spread my music. Like most singers and musicians, I thought that was what I wanted. To land a record deal and hear my music on the radio. And for the first few years, it was. It was great. I wrote my music and sang what I wanted. Mom helped with wardrobe choices and handling all my bookings.

"It started so subtly that it took me five years to realize I had completely handed over all the control to her. When I was twenty, I wanted to create a new album with a new look, something I was very excited about. I took it to my mom and team, and they immediately shut me down and told me what I was to create. What would sell the best, and what the fans would expect. They convinced me I was wrong, and they were right, and I should trust them.

"Trusting them was my first mistake. But at that point, I was so far under their thumb if I tried to do anything, they would easily negate it before anything could come of it. That's when I began to pay closer attention to everything. To watch and listen. Realizing I was just a tool and puppet for her to get what she wanted. My wants and desires had nothing to do with my own career."

Lottie sighs and brushes her thumb over the polaroid she continues to stare at while she speaks.

"After that, everything became a task. I wrote and sang the songs they wanted, wore the clothing they chose, went to the events they rsvp'd to, and even dated men they chose . My life was no longer my own.

"I still love to sing, but my desire to do so dwindled. I could never lose my love of music. It's too deeply rooted in my soul, but performing was no longer what I want to do. A famous pop star is not what I want to be. It's not what everyone thinks it is. At least not for me. It was lonely and depressing, with no possibility for a future of any kind other than the one she designed for me. No husband, no children, no happy home or family holidays. She wants me to work nonstop forever. Her perfect little workhorse.

"When I discovered my contract would be ending, I knew that would be my only opportunity. And talking with her wouldn't work. It never has. I needed to escape, to be completely free from her and all the people she surrounded me with who did her bidding and didn't care about my wellbeing, only their paycheck and compliance with her demands.

"Well, all except Luna, that is. She's the only one who ever listened to me and spoke to me as a person instead of a machine made for performing like a wind-up doll."

Finally, Lottie looks up to meet my eyes, and I remain quiet, waiting for her to finish. Somehow knowing she needs to get this off her chest.

Her expression is so raw and exposed, and I want to tell her she's worthy of the life she always wanted, whatever that may be. Singing, performing, hiding out in my cabin, being my mate, having a family, or returning to Los Angeles. It's her choice, her right to decide.

"I know it sounds so stupid complaining about being rich and famous, but that doesn't matter when I'm not living my own life. I'm just a robot they programmed, and I just got sick of it."

"Everyone's life is different, Lottie. Yours shouldn't be considered any less than another's because your circumstances differ. Everyone deserves to be in charge of their own life choices, no matter who they are."

Tucking Lottie even tighter under my arm, she lets her head fall to my shoulder. Her body fits perfectly against mine. The characters on the screen continue their journey down the yellow brick road, and we're both silent for a brief moment.

"Thank you, Hunter," Lottie whispers.

"For what?"

"For not calling me a whiny, entitled diva."

"Why the hell would I call you that?" I blurt out a little louder than I intended. The fact that she thinks I would ever call her that is offensive.

"Because that's what my mother called me when I complained about it to her."

A growl of annoyance rumbles in my chest, and my jaw ticks. "Well, your mother isn't worthy of being related to you."

She giggles softly, and the sound subsides my growing anger. Her mother sounds like a total waste of space, and I'm glad she was able to get away from her. No one should be made to feel worthless in their own life.

~Lottie~

Even with my long-winded confession, it can't ruin my night with Hunter. The movie, the stars, the popcorn, and sushi! I can't believe he got me sushi. It could very well have been the best sushi I've ever had. But I think the best part is cuddling under the blanket with Hunter. His body radiates warmth, staving off the chill of the cooling evening temperatures. They won't be able to do this much longer with the cold weather continuing like this.

After our little chat, we settled in to watch the movie. We're about three-quarters through it now when Hunter breaks the silence.

"Would you be up for another surprise?"

I pop up like a jack in the box and stare at him like he couldn't have asked a more redundant question.

"Of course, I would love another surprise. Surprises are my favorite."

He chuckles. "Good. Um, this one is a little different from the others. But how would you like to be able to see all the non-humans in their true forms? Beyond their glamours?"

My jaw drops and just about unhinges.

"Is that possible?"

"Yes. The fairies have dust that their wings produce that can be used to do many things. Giving people the sight is one of them."

"Oh my god," I said, turning to face him. I can't believe what he just said to me. "You have fairy dust? Like Tinker Bell?"

He chuckles again. I know I probably sound like a child, but how could I not? He just told me he's going to use dust from a fairy's wing to magically give me the ability to see non-humans as they truly are. Of course, I'm going to think of Tinker Bell. The dust might not make me fly by thinking happy thoughts, but that's okay. I'm still living out every little girl's fantasy right now.

"Yeah, a little like Tinker Bell. I think the author of Peter Pan knew about non-humans and incorporated a few details into his story. I'm sure if you asked Fynn, he could confirm it."

"Yes, absolutely, yes. Please fairy dust me."

I'm eager and know it, but it only seems to widen Hunter's smile.

"Okay, okay, hold your horses."

He shifts, sitting up, and digs below the blanket into his pocket, producing a small drawstring pouch. I spin in place to kneel, facing him.

"Eager little bird, aren't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I am, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Fairy dust me." I try to speak as quietly as possible, but my enthusiasm may have gotten the better of me.

Shifting to put his back towards the majority of the people around us, Hunter pours a small amount of fairy dust into this open palm. It shimmers like the finest glitter in the moonlight with a slight blue tint to it.

"Don't worry, it won't stick to you like real glitter. It absorbs into your skin, completely invisible. Are you ready?"

"How does it work? Is it a specific type of dust? Does it only give people the sight? What else can it do?"

I have so many questions, but Hunter just shakes his head, trying to hide his grin.

"In time, you'll learn everything you want to know. For now, just know that the dust doesn't do anything until I infuse it with intention. I want to give you the sight, so when I use the dust on you, that's what will happen."

Nodding, I hold my tongue to ask all my questions later. Hunter holds his hand and the dust up to his face and gently blows the shimmering powder in my face. I don't feel a physical sensation of it coating my skin, but a cold tickling sensation like snowflakes settling against my cheeks and melting into my pores.

Nothing seems to happen at first. Everything looks the same until an iridescent film coats my vision. The world wavers and when it resettles, there aren't just people sitting in the field watching the movie anymore.

Gossamer wings of various colors protrude from backs, antlers and horns curl from heads, and tails twitch under skirts and blankets. There are skin tones in every shade, not just the ones I'm used to but purple, blue, green, and . . . pink.

"Becca is completely pink!" I quietly exclaim.

The woman I know as a spunky redhead with glittering green eyes is pink from head to toe—not just hair but skin and wings, all in varying shades of bubble gum and cotton candy pink. The male sitting next to her doesn't have wings, but he does have pointed ears, blue markings on his skin, and dark hair that shimmers blue under the moonlight.

I was just expecting the fairies to look like themselves but with wings, and they most certainly do not. I have no idea what the people with tails and horns are, but some have stripes and interesting markings all different from the next. Of course, I can't tell who else is a shifter since they have a human form, not just a glamour to conceal themselves. So, of the people who still look like people, I don't know who is human or not.

"Yeah, she likes to call herself the love fairy. She's tried to set me up on dozens of blind dates, all of which I declined after the first." Hunter repositions himself back at my side, leaning against the tree trunk, looking around the field, and then back at me, watching for more reactions.

"What was wrong with the first?" I ask.

There are so many beautiful creatures to look at now in the field that I can't pull my rapidly shifting eyes away from them, but I try to hold as normal a conversation with Hunter as I can.

"She was my cousin."

"What?" Laughing, I turn to face him, wondering how she couldn't have known they were cousins. "I mean, I guess some people are fine with that, but how did she not know?"

"Becca doesn't make matches so much as she thrusts two single people together and hope it sticks. Her intentions are good, but none of her mismatched pairings have stuck yet. Though that doesn't stop her from trying."

Turning to look at the fairy, I find her with her mouth glued to the male's she's with. Apparently, they've seen the movie before and don't mind missing it.

"Apparently, whoever made her match was much better at it," I comment off-handedly.

Hunter's answer comes at the end of a muffled chuckle. "He's her mate. No person matched them; I guess you can say they matched themselves."

Mates are a strange concept I'm still wrapping my head around. Me supposedly being Hunter's mate is an even stranger concept, but one that is growing on me every day. A partner who gives without taking, a man who loves me unconditionally. A bond that will allow me to live for hundreds of years. Who wouldn't want that?

I catch sight of Hunter from the corner of my eye, watching me with an expression none have ever given me. It makes my heart race and my skin heat.

Quickly, I divert my attention away from him and back to the others before his heated stare can cause more than a fluttering in my chest.

I feel more than see Hunter lean closer to me as the soft touch of his finger runs up my arm and shoulder, tracing an unknown pattern on my collarbone. That thing I was trying to avoid by looking away now stirs deep in my gut. Causing a yearning to grow between my legs.

Hunter inhales deeply, pressing his nose close to my throat, before letting out a guttural groan.

"You smell . . . torturous."

"Not exactly the word I thought you were going to use," I mutter, a little distracted by his lips on my neck.

"There are many words I could use to describe your scent, delicious, arousing, wonderful, alluring, distracting. But at the moment, it's torturous."

His breath is hot against my skin, and a shiver runs down my spine. I'm staring at the movie screen but can't see it. I can't see anything; only feel it. Feel the desire stream through my body, the lips pressing against my throat, my fingers digging into my thighs, and the wetness beginning to pool there.

With another deep breath, his arm reaches behind me and grips my hip, pulling me closer. His words are a growl in my ear.

"Like I said, torturous."

Nothing comes out of me except a pitiful whimper that does something to Hunter. He stands abruptly and lifts me up with him. His arm remains tight around me, holding me upright.

"Come, Nightingale. I think it's time we left."

"But the movie isn't over," I protest weakly.

"It is for us."

Leaving behind the comfortable blankets and treats, I nearly forget my camera, but grab it before Hunter guides me back through the field and down the narrow dirt path back to his truck, holding me tightly the entire time.