Chapter Thirteen

Kacia had mentioned a common room, and I set out to find it.

If I was to be trapped in the Aos Sí until the end of Samhain, at least I could find a book to read.

In my everyday life, I kept my hands moving almost all the time. I'd knit while I watched television or embroider while waiting for the microwave to ping. I'd sketch and draw as I spoke on the phone. When I couldn't fidget, my mind drifted to dark places, and I couldn't allow myself to show weakness. Not with the Huntsman watching my every move.

My cheek throbbed with pain.

The Huntsman might have brought me to his castle, but I wasn't his . He could make me shift, but I was still aware enough. I hadn't killed the stag, after all, even with his will pressing down on me.

The Locket pack might have accepted their curse, but I hadn't.

I followed the sound of conversation, finally stumbling into the common room on the first floor, on the far side of the building.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I made a beeline for one of the empty couches by the wall. I sank into the leather and put my hands on my knees as I tried to survey the room without staring.

Mitchell had told me a hundred wolves were under the Huntsman's control. I'd seen them all last night. A hundred ‘hounds,' and I was one of them.

A few groups settled in the common room, playing games and chatting. Some had drinks or snacks. All of their clothes were modern but in different styles from different cultures. The low hum of chatter cut through the expansive room, adding to the tension I felt.

The Aos Sí made my skin prickle. An itch I couldn't scratch had wormed under my skin. My life in Locket was boring by anyone's standards, but it was mine. I went to work at my store, went home, knitted, cooked, and kept to myself.

As I got comfortable on the couch and thought over the Huntsman's threats, I was under a microscope like I had never been before. My grandmother's wards and the herbs made me uninteresting and unable to catch someone's attention—perfect for hiding my Wolfkin magic. Suddenly, my safety blanket had been ripped away, and I felt raw—without skin.

I spotted Kaleb on the other side of the room, a book open in his hand as he sat on top of one of the cabinets, a knee bent and one leg hanging off the side. He looked more like a cat than the silver wolf I knew. Even from across the room, I saw the way he cradled his hand, no doubt feeling the pain of his injury.

A shadow fell over me, and I squinted, looking up to find a stranger in front of me.

Dark, stringy hair fell over his face, and his eyes were sunken and so black that I could not distinguish between his iris and pupil. The stranger grinned when he saw he had my attention. The smile held a mocking edge that I did not like.

The stranger slid onto the couch beside me without waiting for an invitation. Much too close. I shifted, trying to put space between us, but there was only so much room.

The stranger placed his arm on the back of the couch. "You're new. Young?" He guessed.

I blinked, unwilling to speak. My upper lip wrinkled and met my nose, as I could not keep my discomfort from my face.

If the stranger noticed, he did not show it. "I'm Donovan." He jabbed a thumb toward his chest. "Which pack are you in? Have you been assigned to one yet? I'll be happy to show you around. We don't have many female wolves in the kennels, and I want to make sure you're comfortable here." Though his words were innocent enough, they made my skin crawl.

Something had stolen my tongue as I stared at Donovan, trying to gauge what I could say that wouldn't promote an ugly response. He was too brazen, too comfortable. I couldn't sense Alpha magic, which usually brought that kind of confidence, but maybe I was wrong.

Donovan reached out, his fingers inching toward my face. "You're like a little rabbit." He purred. "So frightened."

I jerked back, but Donovan was wrenched away momentarily, suspended in the air by a much larger man.

Dean Hart.

The Alpha of the Locket pack leaned in close. "Don't speak to her." Dean snarled. "Don't look at her. She isn't for you."

"Dibs already?" Donovan wheezed with a slimy grin on his face. "It pays to be an Alpha."

Dean let go of Donovan, thrusting him away from the couch and toward the door. "Get out of my sight." He barked. His jaw clenched as he curled his fists, and the cords of his muscles showed through his shirt—it seemed Dean was barely hanging onto his control.

Donovan scoffed, waving Dean's threat away, but still left as if his ass was on fire.

I exhaled, realizing I hadn't taken a full breath since Donovan sat down.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to Dean. When the Alpha looked down at me, the wolf inside of him stared out, close to the surface. He jabbed a finger in my direction.

" What are you doing here?" His eyes narrowed, and he glanced over his shoulder, checking that Donovan had indeed left before he sunk to his knees in front of me. Dean's nostrils flared, taking in my scent. "You're a wolf."

My eyelids fluttered, short-circuiting as I tried to think of something to say.

I hadn't had to explain to Kaleb. He had known since the moment he met me.

Wyatt was a different matter entirely. He didn't like me and didn't feel entitled to my secrets.

Mitchell suspected , especially after our conversation at breakfast.

But Dean? We had slept together. Even as he knelt in front of me, I couldn't help but think of the way his cock had felt inside of me or the way his teeth had marked my shoulder, scarring me to the bone in a way I didn't understand. Dean meant something to me, though I wasn't sure what it was. Even if it was just sex, I owed him an explanation. No matter how much I wanted to avoid it.

"Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately?" I asked, wincing.

Dean gave me a long look before he nodded and stood, holding his hand out. I took it without thinking, sliding my fingers into his palm. Every hair on my body stood up, and I shivered.

Dean led us through the kennels and up the stairs to another floor. When we reached the end of the hallway, he pushed open the door and gestured for me to walk inside. The room looked exactly the same as the one I'd slept in. Bare walls and bare floor, with a single bed.

I spun on my heel to face Dean as he shut the door behind him. I had no idea what he knew or what he had guessed. Did he know I was the wolf from the night before? The one that had ruined the hunt?

Before I could say a single word, Dean rushed forward. He lifted his hands to cup my cheeks and pressed his lips against mine. I froze in shock before I quickly melted into his embrace. Dean's hands brushed against my face, tangling in my hair as he held me to his body and kissed me like he feared I would disappear.

We broke away slowly, breathing like we had run a marathon. Dean rested his forehead against mine, closing his eyes and savoring the moment.

It felt more intimate than I was ready for. Sex was easy. I could rationalize it as a physical reaction. A need. But as Dean held me, as if he had truly worried about what happened to me, I wasn't sure how to react.

"I'm so angry with you right now," Dean told me, not opening his eyes. "You should've told me."

"I didn't tell anyone," I murmured. "My grandmother told me not to." I reached up and pressed my fingers against my cheek, frowning when I realized the swelling had gone down almost immediately.

"Has the Huntsman told you why he needs a Weaver?" Dean asked.

I grimaced. "He said he wants to close the Gate."

"And you don't believe him?"

"I can't close the Gate, even if I wanted to. When my grandmother came from the Aos Sí, she ripped a hole in reality. It took almost all her magic to do it, and it didn't return. I'm not as powerful as she is, and opening the Gate almost killed her."

"Eva..." Dean echoed my grandmother's name. " éabha . Does the Huntsman know?"

I shook my head. "I wouldn't be alive if he did."

"We can't let him find out." Dean pulled away from me, his jaw hardened. "He'll kill you."

"Kaleb knows."

"Of course he does." Dean scoffed. "He was alive when éabha made the Gate. He was the Beast King's second. That was what you were gossiping about?"

"What did you think we were talking about?" My brow furrowed, trying to remember the conversation all those days ago when Dean caught Kaleb and me in the tunnel.

Dean's eyes flicked to the bite mark on my shoulder. "Never mind."

I pushed my hands through my hair, turned to the bed, and sank onto the mattress in defeat. "I want to kill him."

"Kaleb?"

"The Huntsman." I snarled. "His curse, his bargain, it took my child from me. And countless others. The Wolfkin are dying, and he doesn't care."

"Does killing a Mallacht Sídhe dissolve their bargains?" Dean wondered, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "You're a wolf, just as I am. We cannot hurt him."

"I can't just sit back and do nothing. What will happen to me when Samhain ends, and you all go back to Locket? The Huntsman isn't going to let me go." A tear rolled down my cheek, and I brushed it away with my fist. "He killed Melly."

Dean cursed, making his way over to the bed and sinking down by my side. He was so tall I bet his feet hung over the edge when he tried to sleep. Dean placed his hand on my shoulder.

"I just want to go home." I closed my eyes as the tears started to fall.

Dean put his arms around me and let me cry.

Dean met me in front of the kennels a few minutes later. I hadn't asked why he couldn't walk with me until he pushed a pair of leather slippers into my hands.

"For you." He murmured. "They should fit. Just adjust the ties."

My stomach warmed, though I shook away the feeling, bending down to put on the slippers. The buttery leather was soft, and each slipper was fashioned like a drawstring bag.

Dean took a breath, his eyes darkening as they lingered on the bruise on my cheek. "That'll clear up by this afternoon." He told me.

I reached up, brushing my fingers against the swollen skin. "One of the perks of being a wolf?"

"Something like that."

I hummed as I rubbed my thighs, waiting awkwardly for Dean to speak.

"Kaleb informed me that you could not bring any personal belongings." Dean cocked his head to the side. His eyes were full of unspoken questions. "There is a market in the next town over. I have business to attend to there and will accompany you." He stated.

There was a gulf between us, and my lies sat there, awkwardly.

"The market?" I eyed him dubiously.

Dean shifted from one foot to the other. "Is there an issue?"

"I don't have any money with me." My cheeks burned, and I looked away.

"Don't worry about that." He waved a hand dismissively. "Mitchell is coming too. There are plenty of things to buy in the market that aren't available in the human realm.

I exhaled, feeling the tension leave my shoulders. "I do need some essentials. Soap. A toothbrush." Underwear .

He nodded staunchly. "I'm happy to accompany you."

I tightened the laces around my feet and tested the fit. "Is it a long walk?" I wondered.

"Through the Forest of Beasts, then east to the Spring Court." He told me.

"The Forest of Beasts?" I eyed the tree line warily. "Do you have a gun? A knife?"

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "Nothing that resides in the forest would attack one of the Huntsman's wolves."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. "And the Spring Court? Like a royal court?"

"There are two kingdoms. Unseelie and Seelie. Within those kingdoms are several courts. Spring, Summer, Autumn, and the like." He explained. "The Forest of Beasts sits on the border of the Spring Court."

"And the Huntsman?" I wondered. "Is he a king?" I gestured to the castle with its moving clockwork pieces as we walked across the lawn.

Dean's lip curled. "The Huntsman is something else."

We stood at the top of the steps. The weather was crisp but not too cold. More like spring than late fall.

We didn't have to wait long before Mitchell jogged up to us, coming from the trees instead of the kennels. Dean nodded once in greeting, and a look passed between them that I didn't understand. Mitchell flashed a droopy smile my way, flicking his shaggy black hair out of his eyes.

"Dean persuaded you to come?" Mitchell nudged me with his shoulder.

My brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't I come?"

Mitchell glanced up at Dean and back to me. "Because of the Forest—"

"Don't scare her for no reason." Dean shook his head. "We're wolves. It'll be fine."

I eyed Dean dubiously. "Not that I care, but will the Huntsman mind? I won't get in trouble for leaving the kennels, will I?"

"Who knows?" Mitchell chuckled.

Dean glared at him. "You shouldn't. The village isn't far, and as long as you remain in the Aos Sí, it shouldn't be a problem."

I rolled my eyes. "As if I'll magically jump dimensions. I don't even know how to do that."

"Well, there's the Hawthorne trees." Mitchell blurted out. "And that Gate—"

"Let's just go." Dean interrupted. "I don't think we should have this conversation in the castle's shadow."

I nodded, following Dean's lead as we walked to the trees. I tried to keep up with Dean and Mitchell, but every one of their steps matched three of mine.

Despite Dean's size, his footsteps made no sound as he stalked through the trees. The canopy quickly grew too thick to let sunlight through, and the shadows swallowed us. Mitchell walked with his hands in his pockets, the image of relaxed despite the forest's terrifying name.

There were no worn trails, just trees, undergrowth, and patches of brambles so thick it would take a machete to get through.

Dean seemed to know where he was going as he held branches out of the way for me or grabbed my elbow when I tripped over a thick root poking out of the ground.

We hadn't been walking long when I spotted a cottage between the trees, its windows glowing in the shadows and trailing smoke curling up to the sky from a brick chimney.

I stopped walking as an unexplainable fear gripped me. I'd heard so many stories about witches that lived in woods, waiting for children to eat. Every hair on my body prickled, and though I told myself it was just a house, something told me it was much more than that.

Dean placed his hand on the small of my back, urging me away from the house and back on our path.

"Who lives there?" I whispered, my voice quiet in case whatever monster that lived inside could hear us.

"The Soothsayer." His voice was just as low as mine. "Some say that she is the Huntsman's sister. Others say his mother. We do not speak of her. To speak of her is to draw her attention."

My eyes caught on the cottage as he dragged us away—and the silhouette in the window, watching us go.

We made it through the Forest of Beasts unaccosted. However, I sensed it had everything to do with the wolves' presence instead of the number of monsters living in the woods.

As soon as we left the trees behind, the scent of flowers filled my nose. Bluebells and daffodils as far as the eye could see. The path was lined with tulips in all different colors. The sky was a pale, cloudy blue, but it felt like rain was coming.

The dirt path gave way to cobblestone, and we passed several quaint cottages and a home carved into the trunk of a large oak.

Soon enough, we came to a market on the main street running through a village. The writing on the shop signs was strange, with symbols over letters and words I didn't know. It felt like I had been thrown back in time.

Though some of the fae we encountered looked human, they had certain features that gave them away. Too tall, too thin. One woman had skin the color of a vibrant green apple, and one man had ears as large as an elephant. I spotted more than one pair of cloven hooves on someone who looked entirely human above the knees. It took everything in me not to stare. I imagined the reactions of some of the ladies of the First Baptist Church back in Locket. The same ladies that banned Elsie Mae Turner from participating in the Fourth of July potluck because she'd once made falafel, and they didn't want anything too ‘ethnic' on a day meant to celebrate America.

Dean wandered off to attend to his business, but Mitchell stayed close as I took in the sights. I spent several minutes at a fabric vendor, marveling at the patterns.

Mitchell sidled up to me, his hands in his pockets. "You own a craft store." He reminded me. "I also saw your house. You have too much fabric. Too much yarn..."

"I don't have this fabric." I grinned, waving my hand toward the shimmering panel of translucent silk. "I've never seen this kind of effect before."

The stall owner, a female Sídhe with pointed ears and a dress made of sunflowers, drifted over. "You have an eye for quality, my lady." She tipped her head. "Black Widow silk is incredibly rare. It shimmers so beautifully even with only a fraction in the weft."

"Black Widow silk?" Mitchell's eyes narrowed. "That's a legend."

The female Sídhe laughed, her voice like bells. "If you like." She allowed. "But as that legend says, if you stare into the silk, you can see your future."

"What are Black Widows?" It was hard to pull my eyes from the silk.

" Fíodóir Máthair ." The female Sídhe placed her hand on her chest with reverence. "Descendants of Mother Spider. It was said they were the first in the Forest of Beasts."

"Because they ate everyone else." Mitchell snorted.

The female fae ignored him. "The first Weavers." She eyed the fabric. "I can give you a good price. If you like. Most walk past the spider silk. It reflects potential. It doesn't show its beauty for just anyone."

I bit my lip. "I shouldn't." My chest echoed with discordant grief as I turned away from the fabric.

The female Sídhe gave me a sad smile. "You may call me Fionn." She said. "If you change your mind, just ask for me."

When he joined us on the path, Dean had done his own shopping, carrying a hessian sack. We had begun our journey back to the forest when I spotted a stall filled with different potions and herbs.

I thought of Kaleb's blistered hands, and a surge of guilt twisted my stomach. I grabbed Dean's sleeve, directing him toward the apothecary, and he followed without argument.

Like Fionn and the Huntsman, the woman behind the stall had pointed ears; she wore an apron with more pockets than stars in the sky.

Ignoring Dean and Mitchell's inquisitive stares, I asked for a cream for burns.

We didn't speak as I had paid for my salve and started back on the road to the forest.

We didn't see the soothsayer's cottage on our journey back from the market, though we returned the way we came.

As the trees parted to reveal the lawn, a question niggled at me, but I didn't speak until the kennels were in sight.

"Did you tell the Huntsman about the stag?" I stopped, turning to Dean.

A sour look crossed his face. "No." He said simply. I didn't know why, but I believed him. "Why do you ask?"

I knitted my hands together. "The Huntsman..." I lifted my bag and gestured to the salve. "He hurt Kaleb's hand."

Dean nodded in understanding. "It's part of the bargain between the Huntsman and the wolves. We cannot hurt him."

I reached up, brushing my fingers against my swollen cheek. "But he can hurt us?"

"Feels like a rotten deal, doesn't it?" Mitchell gestured to the scars on his face.

I nodded in agreement.

"I still haven't forgiven you for not telling me you're a wolf." Mitchell jabbed a finger in my direction. "Why lie?"

"Habit?" I answered, but it was a question. "My grandmother… she was a hard woman. She told me that I had to keep it a secret. The herbs manage my magic. Allow me to have more control, but they suppress my wolf side. Honestly? I don't even consider myself a wolf. Not really."

"The Huntsman doesn't need to ask for your help." Dean glanced toward me. "He can force you. If he so desires."

I sensed the question in his words.

"He forced me to come here but hasn't done anything untoward." Not yet. I shivered. "He said he wants to close the Gate."

"Do you believe him?" Mitchell quirked a brow.

Dean shot Mitchell a warning glance. It didn't escape my notice that Dean had said the exact same thing.

"He is Sídhe. He can't lie. Not directly, at least." I sighed. "Some part of him wants to close the Gate."

"You don't think he does?" Dean stopped walking. "It's a hole in reality. It's the reason monsters come to earth. The borders between our two worlds will crumble, maybe not now, but in a few hundred years. The Gate must be closed."

"But why is it the Huntsman's responsibility?" I wondered, looking up at the canopy of the trees. "The Huntsman's job was to ferry souls to the Tuatha Dé Danann. To the gods and the afterlife. They gave him hounds and everything. What would the Gods say if they found out he wasn't doing his job?"

Both men considered my words.

"Have you seen the cloak in the display case?" Dean asked, gesturing to the castle.

"The one covered in blood?"

"The very one." He nodded, staring into the distance as he spoke. "It's said to belong to éabha herself. Not much is known of her origins, but the Huntsman married her in exchange for something. No one knows what. It is commonly believed that their marriage allowed the Huntsman to put his castle in the forest without being eaten."

"By the beasts in the forest?" I sounded skeptical. The Huntsman was a powerful Sídhe. I couldn't imagine he would be frightened of being eaten.

"Well, yes." Dean's cheeks warmed. "It does seem silly when you put it like that."

As we walked back to the castle in silence, I felt like I had several missing puzzle pieces but no idea of the image on the box. I'd come in at the end of someone else's story, and all I wanted to do was go home.

But I couldn't.

I wasn't just a Sídhe; I was also Wolfkin.

No matter how much I wanted to return to my life in Locket, TN, I had a feeling that I wouldn't be able to.