Chapter 14

14

Molly’s walk back to the house was slow and meandering. Although the fog had mostly burned off by the time she turned back, she still watched her footfalls. With each right step she listed a potential problem with staying— he could be lying, he could change his mind, this is all a trap, if he’s willing to buy he may be willing to sell, and more—and with each left step, she counted the possible boons of staying— away from Uncle Brom, comfortable bed, not having to wait tables, only one man to contend with, wanting to see that fae-man smile again, a friendly sentient house, and much more.

Before she knew it, she had all her arguments for and against arranged in her mind. She stared at the kitchen door, realizing with a start the possible boons far outnumbered the potential problems.

Of course, she realized that many of the boons were creature comforts. Most of the problems hinged on the fae-man in question, who she found sitting on a stool in the kitchen.

His brows rose almost as quickly as he did from his seat when she entered. They stood there blinking at each other for a long moment before Allarion cleared his throat and bowed his head.

“Forgive me, I will leave you.”

Before he could turn to go, Molly yelped, “Wait!”

His gaze flicked back to hers, and the small glimmer of hope there had her stomach doing flips.

Through her furious blush, she said, “You don’t have to go. I wanted to speak with you, actually. Let me just make some tea…”

With a small roar, the stove burst to life, fire licking up the side of the kettle she kept there. They both watched as within a few moments, the water began to steam.

The house was apparently eager to have them speak, too.

Hiding her blush behind the motions of making tea, Molly gathered the leaves to steep and poured the water, all the while feeling Allarion’s intensely curious gaze on her back.

Bringing her steeping cup to the butcher block, she faced him. It would’ve been easy to stare at something more innocuous, like his throat or nose or left ear, but she made herself look him in the eye.

“I think…I will stay.”

She watched in astonishment as his broad shoulders sank and a heavy breath rushed out of him. The floorboards beneath them shook, and the house rattled its shutters.

A smile burst onto Molly’s lips, uncontrollable.

Leaning against the butcher block for support, Allarion placed his other hand over his heart. “You do me the greatest honor, Molly. I swear, I shall earn this honor and your trust.”

Her grin widened, making her cheeks ache. Fates, who said things like that? Only him.

Still, though—“But I do have questions. I need a few things answered—for my peace of mind.”

His gray face grew serious, although he didn’t shed that new animation upon hearing her news. Gone was his dour, stiff demeanor, as if he stood waiting for a blow. Instead, although he sat still on his stool, he regarded her with intensity, his brows and mouth moving and twitching as he thought.

Taking a sip of tea, Molly dove in.

“I know you said it’s not your secret to tell, but I need to know as much as you can tell me about why you’re here. And whether I’ll be safe staying with you.”

To his credit, he didn’t guffaw and regale her with manly bravado. He nodded seriously, and when he spoke, his voice was thoughtful.

“As I have spoken of before, the Fae Queen has long outlived her reign. She is a poison in our very blood. I laid down my sword after she slew her kin, as I couldn’t stomach serving someone so cruel and unjust. I’m sorry to say, though, that I did not leave.”

Those purple eyes, sharp as cut gems, turned to look out the kitchen window as he considered his next words.

“I wandered, aimless, for a long while. It seemed my conscience was satisfied with my protest. I did not serve Amaranthe and therefore my honor wasn’t in question.”

“But what could you have done?” she found herself asking. It tugged on her heart to see him so ready to condemn himself.

“Something,” he said. “But that opportunity is in the past. I tell you this, though, to explain that if given the chance, I will oppose Amaranthe and lend my aid in restoring the faelands.”

That hot sip of tea burned in her belly. “So you’re going to leave?”

“Perhaps. But I doubt any time soon. And—” he leaned forward, placing a hand on the butcher block as if he would reach for her “—I would have every intention of returning. You are here, so this is my home.”

Her grip on her mug tightened, but she made herself breathe through the weight of his admission.

“When will you go?”

“I don’t know. What that path looks like and how long it wends, I cannot say. I just know that, someday, Amaranthe will meet her end, and I intend to see it with my own eyes. I tell you this to be honest. It isn’t something I foresee happening for a while yet, and I will do everything in my power to ensure it doesn’t affect you. The Fae Queen has a long reach, it is true, but so deep into human lands, we are safe here.”

Molly nodded cautiously. “All right. That’s good to hear.”

“Your staying here also strengthens the estate and makes it that much safer.”

“What do you mean?”

He’d made comments or mentioned something like this before, but Molly needed to know, in clear language, what this meant—and what it would require from her.

She listened with no small amount of amazement as he explained how magic flowed through the fae, how its raw power was so great that they needed a community of them, working as a sort of circuit or cycle, to handle the magic. The faelands was so ancient and so imbued with their magic now that young fae knew how to do it intrinsically from birth, like breathing or blinking.

Away from the faelands, though, Allarion needed his own smaller circuit. Between him, Bellarand, and the estate, he was creating such a little community. He imbued his magic into the land, and over time, it was knitting with the magic of Eirea.

“Just like every land has creatures that are native to it, the weave of magic changes across landscapes,” he explained.

To create the circuit he needed to sustain himself and the estate, having a human mate would tie him to the land that much quicker and more wholly. What might have taken a year or more could now possibly take months.

“So, I would become part of your circuit?”

“Yes, the most important part,” he said gently. “It would imbue you as surely as it has the house and the land. I suspect it already has, given that you can hear Bellarand.”

Molly took another deep breath, working to swallow such a revelation. Her, magical. Unimportant Molly Dunne, orphaned barmaid—imbued with magic.

“We would be bound in the human way and in the fae tradition. Given enough time, you would come to influence the estate nearly as much as I can.”

Blood rushed in her ears. Incredible. And terrifying.

The house creaked happily, breaking through her stunned silence.

Allarion looked up at the rafters, grinning. “Although, I think you already influence the house a great deal. It likes you very much.”

“I like it, too.”

Their smiles for the happy house turned on each other, and Molly’s stomach flipped again.

“When you say bound in those ways, you mean married. Mated, like Lady Aislinn is.”

“Mated. Yes.” He leaned forward again, those dark eyes boring into her with an intensity that made a shiver run down her spine and straight between her thighs. “I want you in all ways, Molly, but I am a patient man. Or at least, I can be. We will go as quickly or as slowly as you wish.”

She swallowed hard, trying to wet a throat that’d gone dry at the thought of performing marital activities with the fae. Fates, she should find it abhorrent—but then, if she did, she wouldn’t be staying, now would she? Molly could admit, at least to herself, now that she had thought past her indignation, that getting to see everything beneath all that formal clothing of his was of marked interest to her.

“What about the circuit?” she croaked.

“It may take more time, but I am willing to wait. The bond isn’t simply about the carnal. To forge a strong one requires trust. That is my aim, above all.”

“And what about your friend?” Molly asked. “Will all this delay her coming here?”

“It may,” he admitted. “But she…she is secure. And creating this bond with you, it will only make this land safer for her and for you.”

Nodding, Molly said, “All right. I suppose that’s acceptable. But, I want to know for certain that this is what you want, too.” Those dark eyes tightened with confusion, and Molly hurried to explain, “What I mean is, I wouldn’t want this to happen just because it’s convenient for you. If we do this, it’ll be for true. A woman wants to be wanted, you see. So, if it’s to be a real marriage, a bonding as you say, you need to want me for me, for Molly.”

She made herself stop, to suck in a much-needed breath. Unsure how much sense that made, she watched him carefully, her words hanging above with the drying fronds suspended from the rafters.

Those dark eyes took her in, and a sort of uncanny understanding flickered there.

With care, he laid his arm across the butcher block, offering her his open hand. That simple act of reaching for her had Molly’s pulse fluttering in her throat. Breathless, she tentatively reached to lay her hand in his.

His long, elegant fingers wrapped around her hand, his purple-gray skin such a contrast to her freckled, tanned tone. His blue-black nailbeds were still an otherworldly sight, but they didn’t alarm her like they once had. His were just hands, like any others.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true, and not just because of their color.

No other hand had had Molly breaking out into a riot of gooseflesh from her neck to her toes. Not even Finn, and Finn, like all good cons, had had a way with words.

“Oh, sweetling,” he said in that voice, the one as smooth as warm honey, “there is nothing in this world or the next that I want more than to have you in all ways. Not just because you are my azai, but because you are you. Since that day at the well, it has only and always been you. ”

Molly dared to look into his amethyst eyes, and what she saw there stole the breath from her lungs. She wasn’t ready to name all that she saw, only a hunger so deep, it went beyond lust or a need for sustenance. He looked at her as if one word from her could have him across that countertop, devouring her in all the best ways.

His lips curved with the slightest smile as he said, “There isn’t a male alive who will be more devoted a mate than I. When you are ready, I look forward to proving it.”

His promise left her steaming hotter than her mug, and for a moment, Molly really had nothing coherent to say.

She thought he might be enjoying her befuddlement, if his enigmatic little grin was anything, but he patiently waited for her to find her final question.

“The only other thing I want to know is that I’m free,” she said, giving his hand an experimental squeeze. “That if I want to go somewhere, I can. I don’t need your permission, and that big guard pony outside won’t stop me.”

His horrified frown calmed her nerves almost as much as his answer. “Of course, sweetling. You have never been a prisoner here. This house, the estate, I mean for it to be as much yours as it is mine, which means you may leave it whenever you choose.”

“So I could go to Mullon on my own? Or back to Dundúran to see my family?”

“Yes, of course. I’m not your keeper. I hope to be your friend and soon your mate, but that will never mean I dictate where you go or what you do.” He paused, his lips scrunching into something of a troubled moue. “Unless it is a question of your safety. Then, I might make a few vehement suggestions.”

She didn’t know why, but vehement suggestions had a giggle bouncing up her throat.

“Good. That’s what I wanted to know.”

Feeling a bit braver, she let go of her mug and extended her other hand across the countertop to him. The small smile that came to his lips upon seeing it almost broke her heart. He connected them together as if she offered the most precious gift, his touch gentle and his gaze reverent.

Him looking at me like that could go right to my head.

“I will stay and give this a try,” she said, for her own benefit as much as his. “If it’s to work, I think we shouldn’t have secrets.”

When his look grew troubled, she said, “You can have the one. I respect that it’s not yours to share yet. But otherwise, we’re honest with each other.”

He squeezed her hands, and his thumbs began to make little teasing circles on the delicate, sensitive insides of her wrists.

“You are as wise as you are brave, my Molly. Whatever you need, you shall have—you need only ask.”

She truly listened and heard when he said it this time and nodded her agreement. She’d be sure to test him on it soon.

“That goes for you, too. No more assumptions.”

He had the decency to look embarrassed, those pale cheeks purpling in an endearing fae blush.

“I agree to your terms. To honor our pact, I shall tell you a truth—we fae cannot lie. We may omit, we may obfuscate, but a baldfaced lie, we cannot tell.”

Molly’s brows nearly arched up to her hairline. She supposed she’d have to trust him on that, too.

“All right, then. I’ll endeavor to be as honest, too.”

They shared a smile, and though it was but a moment, it lingered for Molly. Like laying tinder for a new fire or filling an empty pitcher, there was something about it that made Molly think of changes, or renewals.

His lips parted, and he searched her gaze with his when he said, “We go at your pace, like I said, but this once, may I embrace you?”

Molly blinked in astonishment. All this talk of mating and he just wanted a hug?

“Yes, that’s fine.” With the way her body seemed to vibrate, like it needed to be closer to his, she suspected it was more than fine.

He rose with the grace and fluidity of a great wildcat, that predator’s hungry gaze focused on her. Keeping one of her hands, he gently pulled her toward him once he’d come around the butcher block.

Molly stepped into his space, heart thundering in her chest.

Given how tall he was, she fit neatly under his chin. Tucked into his chest, she wrapped her arms around his narrow waist and laid her cheek on the slab of muscle over where his heart would be. Nothing beat below her ear, but he was warm to the touch.

His arms came around her, securing her to him, and she felt his lips fall to the crown of her head. He breathed deeply there, a contented sound rumbling through him.

Those big, tapered hands held onto her, and for a fleeting moment, Molly imagined this was what feeling safe and secure felt like. It’d been a figment of her imagination for so long, she didn’t trust it to be real. But the glimpse was nice—and so was holding onto him, bony as he might’ve been.

He felt… good in her arms. Molly wasn’t the most tactile person, but she could appreciate a good hug, and this one was excellent. She almost wanted to burrow her face into his chest.

Warm lips teased at her temple, and in that honeyed voice, he murmured, “Welcome home, Molly.”