Nine

Chapter Nine

Being back in the kitchen wasn’t the cure-all Emma had hoped it would be. Usually, just entering this space that was so sacred to her would ease her soul and make her feel protected. It couldn’t overcome the war going on in her heart. She was actually more soothed by the man standing beside her, helping her to ice their cake with barely any need for words. Shivers flooded her body every time his arm brushed against hers or his fingers grazed her hand when he gave her something she requested. He wasn’t pushing her to talk or do anything. He seemed utterly content just to be with her.

There was no getting around it. Lachlan was amazing.

Without his magic, he was the most appealing man she’d ever encountered. With his magic… Well, that wasn’t something she could let herself think about. How could anyone resist the idea of an insanely gorgeous, passionate—yet reserved—magical fairy king come to sweep her off her feet? Emma couldn’t let herself think of him that way. It was too tempting, even with what she knew of the Fae.

She was still drawn to him, and it wasn’t just physical attraction, either. If that was the only thing going on, she’d be absolutely fine. He was obviously intelligent. He was reasonable and down-to-earth in a way that she found irresistible. From what he said, he actually cared about his people and his realm, which was something she didn’t think the Fae were capable of. But that was the problem. She still wasn’t sure she could trust anything he said or even did. It could all be a trick to convince her to remain the Queen of the Springtime Fae.

How was this serving him? Fairies were self-serving beings. It was just in their makeup. One moment, they would be loving, beautiful, and familiar. The next, they could transform into a raging beast with sharp claws and fangs. She shuddered as long buried memories bubbled to the surface of her mind.

She didn’t need the Grimm brothers to tell her fairies were dangerous. She knew it, first-hand. The Fae became something unrecognizable when they felt slighted or wronged. And those were the ones who were obvious about it. The ones who hid their ire were so much more dangerous.

What would happen if she offended Lachlan someday? How would he change and what would it do to her heart if she decided to give it to him?

If I haven’t already…

“I used to spend my summers here, with my grandparents.” Emma was startled to hear herself speak. Her voice sounded strange and distant, even to herself, as the words poured out of her. Was she really going to share this with him?

Her heartbeat quickened, but she felt oddly calm, as if she was detached from what she was about to say. She finished the last bit of icing and stared down at the cake. Lachlan handed her a plate without saying anything. Somehow, his practical silence bolstered her.

“It was magic,” she said, cutting them each a big slice and setting it on the plates he provided. “Like, the best kind of generic, non-fairy childhood magic you could experience.”

She headed to the fridge to get the milk and poured them each a glass. When they were settled at the island once more, each sitting on their own stool with everything put away, she paused, wanting to see Lachlan’s reaction to both the cake and what she had to say. She nodded toward the plate to encourage him to try it. He took a bite and his eyes widened for a moment before rolling closed. He shook his head, then took another.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he said.

“I don’t believe that. There are tons of stories about the food in Faerie luring mortals to their demise.”

He nodded, still shoveling cake into his mouth, then took a big drink. Emma was mesmerized, watching the tendons and muscles flex as he tilted his head back. Even his neck was sexy. She turned her attention to her own piece and took a bite.

“Okay, this isn’t half bad,” she murmured.

“I’ve heard people complain of chemical tastes in processed food.”

Emma blinked up at him, surprised that he had heard of that. It was a mundane fact for him to know about humans.

“Fae food is like that to me,” he said. “It’s all conjured. None of it is real.”

She arched an eyebrow and smirked. “So, you don’t like it because you can taste the magic in it?”

He smiled back, nodding again. “Exactly. But this cake has better magic about it.”

Her heart clenched, alarm shooting through her. “You didn’t cast a spell on it while we were baking, did you?”

“Of course not.” He leaned over the island and smiled at her. “Its only magic is that we created it together.”

She grimaced, hoping it would cover up the butterflies swarming in her stomach. “Smooth,” she said.

“Truth. And you were about to share yours.”

Her grimace became more authentic as she settled back on her stool. She still wanted to tell him this. He had shown her nothing but kindness. He deserved to know. She wanted him to know, to understand why they could never be together.

Or maybe help me work my brain around this block so we can.

No. No, that was not what she wanted. She just needed him to understand so he would help her get rid of this power and go back to her simple mortal life. Without him.

Her appetite fled at the thought. She pushed her plate away and forced herself to continue her tale.

“This house is in one of the oldest parts of town,” she said. “You didn’t get to see much on our walk back from the park, but the neighborhood only gets cooler the farther into town you get from the forest. There are tons of little shops not far away. I would be out every day exploring the neighborhoods. The houses were so cool, it was just insane.”

The more she spoke, the easier it became to find the words. She could see the big Victorians with their gingerbread embellishments lining the streets toward the edge of town, remembered walking along cobblestone paths in the more ‘downtown’ area, with narrow buildings clustered together, each with its own distinct architecture and personality.

“When I was seven, I found this small alley or alcove I’d never noticed before.” She leaned closer, resting her arm on the island’s countertop. “It was barely wider than a doorway. I just had to see what was there. I came across this immaculate little garden filled with herbs. One of the walls was brick, with a lion’s head fountain built into it, water trickling down for the plants in circular channels surrounded by stone walkways that made up their beds. It was incredible. I never saw another person there, just this charcoal gray cat.”

She felt herself smile even as moisture rose in her eyes and her hands began to tremble. “She loved to lounge in the sun. Every day, I’d find her on this stone bench, curled up and just watching me. Until, gradually, she’d be sitting, then standing, then running to greet me.”

Her heart filled with warmth at the happy memories of petting her soft fur, still warm from the sun. They would sit on the bench together while Emma read for hours. The cat seemed to like hearing Emma’s voice and would paw at her books if she wasn’t reading them aloud.

“It was my secret place,” Emma said. “Just me and that cat. I brought her snacks every day. I’ve been a compulsive-feeder for as long as I can remember. That’s what started me off on being really interested in the kitchen. I would bake her different cookies. God, she loved cookies. That probably should have been my first clue that she wasn’t like other cats…”

A shudder flowed through her, the familiar fear rising within her as well as the shame others put on her for ‘making up stories.’ Emma pushed it all aside. She had to get through this.

Reassuring warmth surrounded her, flowing up from the earth and sealing her in what felt like a loving embrace. Green light tinged her periphery. Lachlan’s magic. She knew the feel of it now, but it didn’t worry her this time. It encircled her, but she felt something pushing back against it. The magic that had been placed within her. He was probably protecting her kitchen, protecting this part of the mortal realm to make sure she didn’t damage anything if she lost control again.

He was probably protecting her.

That knowledge gave her the courage to go on.

“I didn’t know her name, so I called her Junebug.” She laughed and shook her head, her smile growing, even as tears welled in her eyes. Emma couldn’t believe she could laugh during this, but Lachlan being close was making her feel safer somehow. She couldn’t believe it, but there it was. “She would sit in my lap and purr and purr while I read to her.”

Emma looked down, tugging at the napkin she held in her hands. She didn’t even remember picking it up. Her smile was gone now, a cold foreboding filling her chest. She had kept herself from telling this story for so long, it was hard to break through the walls she’d placed around herself. Around this. But if anyone was going to believe her, it was Lachlan. Maybe he could even help her make sense of what had happened, help her understand the betrayal she’d endured from what she had considered a friend.

“One day, when I was on my way to visit her, a group of kids followed me,” Emma said. “They were just bullies from my school, looking to make trouble. I was so scared, I ran to my secret place. I thought I’d be safe there. But I didn’t think things through.”

She shook her head. “They were so close, one of them grabbed the back of my shirt just as I crossed the threshold. I shoved her off of me. When she fell, she crushed some of the herbs.”

A wave of energy rippled through the shield surrounding her. She looked up at Lachlan to see his brow furrowed, his lips pulled in a deep frown. His chest was still, as if he held his breath, his attention so intent on her, it was a palpable thing. His concern broke the last wall within her. She said the words she hadn’t uttered to anyone since shortly after the incident—after the adults in her life had failed her by not believing in her.

“She changed,” Emma said. “Junebug… She turned into this horrible thing. This little monster with clawed hands and feet and sharp teeth—God, she had so many teeth. I was utterly terrified. So was the other girl. We both screamed and tried to get away, but we just ended up making it worse, trampling more plants. We tripped and were holding onto each other, and Junebug was stalking toward us with this look in her eyes like she knew we were afraid, and she was okay with it. Like she wanted us to be afraid. Wanted me to be afraid.”

Emma’s voice broke. Lachlan reached out and took her hand in his. She gripped it tight, drawing strength from him.

“I told her that she was supposed to be my friend,” Emma said. “I begged her to let us go. She just screamed at us, this horrible noise. The next thing I knew, we were falling up into the sky, as if gravity had gone completely crazy. We landed on the sidewalk just outside where the alley entrance had been, but there was only a brick wall. We fell hard—hard enough to get hurt. I jumped up and ran home as fast as I could and slammed the door shut behind me.”

Emma wiped at her eyes again. “I tried to tell my grandparents what had happened, but they thought I was in shock. It turned out, I had sprained my wrist and nearly dislocated my shoulder. They took me to the hospital, and the other girl was there. She had a broken ankle. I found out later that she hadn’t said anything up to that point, but when she saw me, she said that I had climbed a tree and had purposefully dropped down on her while she was riding her bike, and that’s how we both ended up hurt.”

Another ripple passed through the energy surrounding her. She could feel Lachlan’s rage, even though he was holding himself completely still. Emma hurried through the rest of it, hating this part even more than how much Junebug had frightened her.

“I don’t think anyone believed I had fallen out of a tree on purpose, but the doctors said that I had suffered a trauma from the fall and come up with the story to make myself feel better. My parents never let me stay at my grandparents again. They put me in counseling, but I learned really quickly what to say—and what not to say—to be done with it.”

The tears welling in her eyes spilled over. “But I knew. I knew that what I had seen was real. So I started researching everything I could on fairies. I wanted to understand what had happened. It wasn’t even about how Junebug changed physically. I needed to know how she could scare me so badly. How she could hurt me. How could she do that to two little girls? Especially to one who was supposed to be her friend?”

“So you read Grimm.” Lachlan’s voice was tight.

“I read a lot of things,” she said. “But the Grimm brothers were the ones who made the most sense. They told me fairies were capricious and tricksters. That they would fool you for their own amusement. Believing that was the only way I could make sense of what had happened at the time. Then I grew up, and the memory became more like a dream.”

“And then you met me.”

She smiled at him, some of her sadness seeming to lift. “And then I met you.”