Chapter 1

Aurora

brIGHT YELLOW SUNLIGHT STREAKS THROUGH the thin curtains hanging over the bedroom window. I left the window open last night, wanting to smell the summer rain as it soaked the earth and chased the heat from the air, and now, as morning bathes the world in gold, the smell of soil and honeysuckle fills the balmy bedroom.

A warm pressure at my back has me smiling sleepily, and I turn on my pillow to find Alden cuddled beneath the thin blanket beside me, still fast asleep. His dark brown curls have grown out a bit, and they’re all mussed and rumpled, but he looks as handsome as ever. In sleep, the creases that usually line his face disappear, and he looks completely at ease, as if a trouble has never even thought to touch him.

With a gentle rustling of the mattress, I move closer to him. His tawny-brown skin is warm to the touch, and I press my naked body against his, cuddling my face into his neck so I can press kisses along his bearded jaw.

“Mm,” he mumbles, one arm looping around my waist. “Is it morning already?”

“Mm-hmm.” I press a kiss to his neck right below his ear. “And remember what today is?”

He still hasn’t opened his eyes, but as I trail my fingers gently up his broad chest, his cock twitches against my thigh in response.

At least someone is ready to wake up.

Still, he doesn’t answer.

So I trail my hand down his chest and across his firm abdomen, then wrap my fingers around his hardening length.

Now he opens his eyes.

And I’ll never not be mystified by how dark they are, by how flecks of gold shimmer in his irises when the sun hits his face just right. He’s so beautiful, I’m distracted from the firmness still in my grasp.

But Alden hasn’t forgotten.

Suddenly awake, at least partially, he grabs me around the waist and lifts me on top of him. My long green hair, still tangled from sleep, drapes all around us like a woodland veil, and it casts shadows across Alden’s face when I lean forward to press my lips to his. At the same time, I guide his cock to my opening, and we both sigh as I ease onto him. It takes some time for me to adjust to his size, but after a short while, I’m able to take him fully.

“Today,” I whisper as I pull away from our kiss and begin to slowly ride him, my knees rumpling the soft sheet, “is Beltane .”

And I’ve only been looking forward to Beltane for forever , or at least since I moved to Faunwood early this past spring. Alden told me they have a Maypole dance and everything. I’ve been preparing my dress for the big celebration for weeks, and today is finally the day!

Alden sinks a bit deeper into me than I was ready for, and I let out a tiny yelp.

“Sorry, little witch.” He gives me a sleepy smile, thumbs pressing into my hip bones.

But I know he’s not actually sorry. In fact, he looks rather pleased with himself.

I match his sleepy smirk with one of my own, then lift up onto my knees so Alden’s length slips out of me.

His smirk vanishes. “What are you doing?”

“We have to get ready!” I say, already easing from the warm comfort of bed and grabbing a lightweight emerald-green robe from the old armoire that used to be Auntie’s. As I pull it on and flip my hair over my shoulder, I give Alden a taunting little smile. “We can finish that later. If you think you can wait for me.”

Grumbling, he bunches the blanket in his hand and drops his head back onto the plush pillow. “You’re going to be the death of me, witch.”

Leaving him warm in bed, I head into the tiny upstairs hallway and then down the creaking stairs to the first floor. I’ve been leaving the kitchen window open as well, and Harrison has enjoyed coming and going as he pleases. He doesn’t seem to be home right now, and I wonder what kinds of shenanigans he’s been getting up to at night. All I know is that he always returns to the cottage with dirty paws and shining eyes.

He loves this time of year just as much as I do.

After starting a fire and putting the kettle on, I head out the back door, a platter of crumbly biscuits and apple slices balanced in my hands. Dew sparkles on the lush green grass growing all around the cottage, and it’s refreshingly cool on my bare feet as I drift through the early-morning light and into the forest to the north. The trees are alive with birdsong and the scratching of little claws on bark as squirrels leap through the branches.

“Good morning, everyone,” I say, smiling into the sunlight as it warms my face. I only make it another twenty paces or so before a snow-white cat leaps up onto a boulder and flicks his tail at me. “Well, good morning to you too,” I say, pausing to lean down and draw a hand gently over his silky head.

Harrison jumps off the boulder and begins trotting alongside me as I move through the forest. “Is that your offering for the fairies?” he asks. We’ve been spirit companions for years now, and he knows my rituals well.

“It is. I hope they like rosemary biscuits.” The smell of the biscuits drifts up from the platter, making my lips curl pleasantly. The fairies should consider themselves lucky; I almost had to wrestle these out of Alden’s hands last night.

Harrison wrinkles his tiny pink nose. “Wispfish would be better.”

His seriousness makes me laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind should I ever need to leave you an offering.”

“As you should.” There’s a playful lilt to his voice and a gleam to his vibrant green eyes. “Are we going to the fairy hollow?”

“We are.”

Immediately, he bounds ahead of me, vanishing into the thick greenery before I have time to even realize where he’s gone. I keep up my slow pace, taking time to appreciate the beauty of summer all around me. It always goes by too fast, this warm time of year, and I try to take time every day to really look at the world around me, at the ladybugs spotting the leaves and the tiny white flowers growing in clusters along the river. There’s always beauty to be found, if only one takes a moment to look.

When I step into the grove of oak trees a few minutes later, Harrison is already sitting in a patch of sunlight, tail wrapped around his paws, waiting.

This grove was one of Auntie’s favorite spots, and she brought me here often when I was a child. She’s the one who showed me the fairy hollow, a little depression in the hillside, surrounded by trees and wildflowers, with the babble of the river not far off. This is where Auntie always left her offerings for the fairies, and I intend to continue that tradition.

Harrison watches in silence as I sink to my knees in the grass before the hollow. Leaning forward, I transfer the rosemary biscuits and apple slices into the fairy hollow, then sit back with the platter resting in my lap. Closing my eyes, I speak the blessing Auntie taught me all those years ago.

“Gentle spirits of the land, I come to you with tokens in hand. With this gift, I honor thee and seek your grace and harmony.”

A gentle summer wind swirls around me, tossing my hair.

They’re here.

With a smile, I continue.

“May this offering bring delight, great spirits of beauty and light. Bless this place with joy and peace, and may this friendship never cease.”

Another warm wind dances around the grove, and this time I can just faintly hear the sound of bells and laughter as the fair folk pass me by. In but a moment, they’re gone, and when I open my eyes, the offerings I left in the hollow have vanished save for a few tiny crumbs. I guess they like rosemary after all.

Harrison blinks up at me when I look his way.

“Did you see them?” I ask, standing from my spot before the hollow.

I’ve never seen one of them, but Auntie told me she once met a member of the Seelie Court. Seeing any of the fair folk is rare, but meeting one of the court fairies, at least according to what I’ve been told and learned at Coven Crest Academy, the school for witches and warlocks, is almost unheard of. But I’m not surprised in the least that Auntie had such an opportunity. She was always special that way, with a big heart and eyes open to a world of magic and wonder.

“The fairies?” Harrison cants his head. “Of course. I always see them.”

Something in his voice—or maybe it’s the twitching of his tail—gives me pause, and I arch an eyebrow. “You don’t chase them, do you?”

“No,” he says, but I’m not at all convinced. One of his favorite hobbies is chasing anything that moves—including Alden’s feet when we’re lying in bed at night.

“Harrison!” I scold.

With a purr of delight, Harrison bounds away once more, leaving me to chase after him the rest of the way back to the cottage.