Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

Magnus

From the look on the woman's face and the dragon growling in my head, I could tell something was very very wrong. But I didn't have a clue what it was. The dragon did most of my thinking these days, and I spent all of my energy fighting him for control to keep him from doing something stupid.

The whole thing was exhausting, and I'd give anything to be back where I belonged—in the fae realm—instead of here in this chaos. I'd come here tonight because I wanted a taste of normalcy without the dragon breathing down my neck.

Not to mention this stew. I scooped another spoonful into my mouth and savored the rich depth of flavors. It looked simple enough, but there was something else about it that I couldn't pin down. It had a gentle sweet flavor with a tang of spice. Whatever it was, I couldn't seem to get enough of it.

And now that I'd watched the woman across the room working on it, I rather liked knowing that she'd made it instead of the grump at the serving counter. He'd looked down his nose at me with distrust in his eyes and it took a lot of effort not to bite him for it.

Her on the other hand? My entire body tightened thinking about her. She was the first and only thing about this world that had captured my attention.

But seeing the redhead in the cemetery earlier had woken the dragon from his slumber and he'd been on edge and hovering in my mind ever since. I could feel the control slipping through my fingers.

"Rose!" The big man who served the food called from behind the counter. I rolled her name around in my head for a moment, enjoying the feel of it in my mind. She was pretty in an understated way, but that wasn’t what had initially drawn my attention.

I'd first caught sight of her huddled underneath her cloak as she walked close to where I stood watching. Despite being bundled from head to toe against the weather, I’d spied the wild mane of red hair that had whipped around her face in the wind. Even more noticeable, was the varied scent from her that carried to my nose.

It was a potent blend of wild and earthy, with just a touch of sweetness lingering beneath it all, enveloping me in an intensity that made it impossible to ignore. But it wasn't just her scent that caught my attention. There was also the way her heartbeat raced when she'd realized she wasn't alone in that graveyard.

I'd felt the pulse of her unease and tasted adrenalin in the air, as if it were a physical force. The scent of her anxiety tinged the space between us, crackling with energy and making me feel more aware of my surroundings than ever.

That moment had hung there for several long seconds as the possibility of danger and uncertainty had surrounded her.

I'd felt the desire to protect her as strongly as I'd thirsted for her fear.

Now. Here. She had relaxed into what looked like a routine, and her appearance seemed to brighten what had felt like a dreary place.

I didn't come here often. I usually preferred to stay hidden away. But some nights, when I couldn't sit still another second, I came in and picked a spot away from the others where I could observe alone and without questions.

As quickly as she froze when she spotted me, she shook her head and turned to the man calling her. "Yeah, I'm coming." She scooped up the serving spoon from the floor and with one long, hard look thrown over her shoulder in my direction, she disappeared through the double doors that led behind the serving counter.

Satisfied that she was safe for now, I turned my concentration back to the stew in front of me. I still couldn't understand why I couldn't get enough. I was already on my fourth bowl, and I fully expected the man to refuse me another.

However, I caught the scent of the fresh stew being ladled and I hurried through this one so I could take another. I glanced around the room at the men gathered. I generally preferred my own company to others. Tonight, however, I was interested in learning more about this world. And more importantly, finding the key to get back home.

Thoughts of blood and violence filled my head again as I imagined returning to the fae realm and murdering my uncle. The dragon wanted to tear his head from his body and I was inclined to let him.

My dragon stirred, his agitation still running high despite my attempts to appease him with another long and grueling flight.

"Excuse me."

I jerked at the sudden sound of the woman's voice, practically in my ear. She was close. Too close. How she'd managed that without my noticing astounded me. That never happened.

Ever .

"What?" I asked harshly, without looking up while pulling on my cloak to ensure I still had the hood covering most of my face.

"John said you might want more of the stew. I made a fresh batch."

"You made it?" I said, tilting my head just enough to see she did indeed have another bowl in her outstretched hands.

"I did. It's my mother's recipe, but I tweaked it to make it my own."

I examined her fingers, almost white knuckling the bowl. They were long and delicate, and I imagined them soft to the touch when they brushed my skin. I shook my head of that crazy notion. She did not look like the kind of woman to be trifled with, nor did I want to risk her finding out what I was.

If there was one message Isaac and Kitra kept pounding into my head, it was humans could not know our kind existed. There were many secrets in this world, and it was our job to keep them.

Meaning no intimate indiscretion with a human would go unnoticed. Not when she saw the differences in my anatomy to a human’s.

Fortunately, the beat of her heart distracted me. It was racing now, much like it had in the graveyard, and it took all my willpower not to look up at her. But the sound called to me.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump . I breathed deep, trying to relax. Thump. Thump. Thump.

"I shouldn't have come," I said, dropping my spoon into my empty bowl and pushing it away.

"What? Of course you should. That's why we're here. You're welcome to eat as much as you like and stay as long as you need." She looked out the window, a soft wistful look on her face. "It's cold and wet out there."

"I don't need your charity." That was the truth. But when I first spied this place I'd been curious about an old castle on the top of a hill with a cemetery in its front yard.

And when I'd found its abandoned basement... It had become the perfect place to hide.

"It's not charity. It's kindness, and everyone deserves that."

I scoffed. "Don't be so sure about that. Some of the people you so carelessly invite in here are dangerous, and you should take more care who you consort with."

Her sharp inhale of breath signaled her annoyance, as did the equally sharp change in her scent. She was angry, and as far as I was concerned, that was a good way for her to be. She really did need to be more careful.

She didn't understand what lived in the darkness.

"You don't have to be rude. I was just trying to be nice. I could tell by your aura that you were going to be difficult, but I'm over here trying anyways. If you didn't want to talk to me, a simple thank you for the stew would have sufficed."

For the first time in months, I almost smiled. Her sauciness entertained me. "My aura? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I pushed back from the table and stood, concern rippling over me.

"Your aura. Your metaphysical energy. Your mental state. Whatever you'd prefer to call it. It's red and pulsing like it's on the verge of exploding."

She had no idea. Or maybe she did, and that was going to open an entirely new set of problems. "Whatever, lady. I just came for the stew, not your analysis. I won't bother you again."

"Don't do that." She frowned.

I wanted to ignore her words and leave. But they dripped in pure sadness and I wondered why. But I couldn't afford to get caught up in this human world. I had to stay one hundred percent focused on my mission. Whatever problems she had were absolutely none of my concern.

"Please." The break in her voice over that one little word stopped me cold, creating a tiny fissure in my resolve, and forcing a dragon's growl of frustration.

"You don't know what you're stepping into just by coming over here and trust me, you don't want to. If you need a thank you to go away, then fine. Thank you for the stew."

"Then don't threaten not to come back here for more. I'm a shitty excuse to miss out on hot food on a cold night."

I took a breath, biting back whatever caustic thing would have come out next. In a few months’ time, I'd lost almost all signs of my civility. But even being raised by a maniac didn’t exempt me from learning how to deal with all walks of fae—or humans. I just needed to focus on that instead of my dragon.

I opened my mouth to respond and she interrupted.

"Don't bother. I can see that you have a surly attitude to go with that angry aura. But if you do come back, I will leave you alone. But before then, you might want to do something about him ."

"Him?" I asked, slowly tracking her arm as she lifted it to point over my shoulder.

"The dragon," she whispered. "Someone else might notice, and that could cause problems."

My blood ran cold. Humans couldn't get past fae magic. There was no way she saw anything…

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I doubt that. You hesitated too long. So, how do I know you don't present some kind of danger to everyone in here, including me?"

"I do," I answered honestly, pitching her off guard and once again enjoying the shocked look on her face. To emphasize my point, I yanked the bowl out of her hands and slammed it down on the table. I then returned to my seat, grabbed my spoon, and devoured the contents.

There was no need for this woman to think me civilized. What would she do? What could she do?

"Well, that's one way to deflect," she hissed almost under her breath. She had fire in her eyes too. Not dragonfire, but it felt no less potent as she stood with her hands on the swell of her lush hips, glaring down at me.

Another kind of hunger rose swift and uninvited as I imagined my hands on those hips, caressing?—

This was neither the time nor the place to entertain thoughts like those. When I failed to outwardly respond to her anger, she turned and stomped away. And unable to resist, I lifted my gaze and watched her go.

Her backside swayed when she walked, and my arousal sharpened. I narrowed my eyes. She might be human, but the fire I'd seen in her eyes drew me in as much as the curve of her figure. I thought I had a type when it came to women, but watching that fiery hair and sexy ass disappear into the kitchen had me rethinking everything I'd ever known.

And if there was more to humans than I'd originally thought. Or at least that one.

I continued to eat her stew, while thinking about sampling the woman herself. By the time I'd consumed the contents of my bowl, I'd decided that I would have to find out what she'd actually meant about the dragon. I couldn't just let that go.

Surely, it had been a metaphor for something else. What else could explain it? I slid the empty bowl to the middle of the table and scrubbed my hands over my face. I'd pushed the dragon as hard as I could today, and I was feeling the fatigue from it.

We would need to sleep soon. My eyes closed, and I pictured Rose outside in the dark, her cloak whipping around her as I chased her through the woods. That fiery spirit of hers could be fun. Catching her and pushing her against a tree or onto her knees...

Goddess, I couldn't stop the image of her naked beneath me. All that pale skin writhing against me as I pushed inside her. I suddenly needed to hear Rose scream my name. I wanted her to beg for my cock.

A crashing noise sounded somewhere in the distance. Something breaking maybe? I couldn't tell. It was too far away.

Everything was too far.

And it was suddenly so dark...