1865

This vampire is certainly nothing like any others I’ve encountered. Warnings from my elders and my mother whisper in my mind. Vampires are creatures of death and the dark, never to be trusted. They are selfish, perverse, and delight in being cruel to others.

Yet this man, Ashe Halford, did not attack me when he sensed my true nature. In fact, when he thought I was no more than a human woman fallen to the ground, he’d turned his horse back to check on me.

Damn my clumsiness. I can’t go more than an hour before tripping over something, even if it’s simply my own feet. For years, my grandmother had thought spirits swirled around my feet and tried every charm and ward she could find. My mother had hoped I’d grow out of it. A daughter the age of ten and younger can be forgiven for such clumsiness, but once I’d begun bleeding and been declared a woman, it was an unforgivable trait in society’s eyes.

Had my family been common tradesmen, perhaps I wouldn’t have been considered such a disgrace. As it was, the O’Briens were an ancient lineage in the coven, and my father had been in line to lead the coven. I’d once explained it to a hedge witch I came across after leaving, that my father was basically the same rank as an earl in the human world. I was expected to be the perfect daughter, both in manners, grace, and spellcraft.

Instead, they got a daughter who preferred running through the forest with bare feet, dancing in storms, and playing with any fae creatures I could find. My magic is wild, something my family tried to overlook because of how much power I had.

But no punishment could break my wild heart and when I came of age, I made the choice to leave the coven. My mother, angry and ashamed of me, declared that if I left, I’d be erased from the family and could never return.

Better living in the wild, among the squirrels and deer, than dying in silks and jewels.

I’d stopped trying to force my magic to follow the stringent rules and rituals taught by my coven. I let my magic be free, allowed it to be as wild as the world I’d made my home.

I shushed the whispers of my past. Those voices had taught me so much I’ve already cast out. Why should this be any different?

“And we have arrived,” Ashe says, halting the mare. He’d introduced her as Lily Dancer and my magic told me she loved the name. From her easy, lovely gait, I know it’s an appropriate name. Before I can slide down, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me into his arms. My weight and, more surprisingly, my skirts don’t hamper him as he braces one arm under my knees and the other around my shoulders.

“Put me down!” I yelp but put my arms around his neck instinctively. “This really isn’t necessary.”

I glare at him, and when he turns his face to me, my expression falters. We’re so close, his golden eyes alive with mirth and his lips quirked in a grin. Long strands of brown hair have fallen across his brow and without thinking, I gently sweep them back.

Ashe isn’t classically handsome. His face is oval, and he has a bump on the bridge of his nose suggesting he’d broken it once as a human. His eyes are a bit too close together, but his lips are envy worthy. His features combined should make him look homely and forgettable.

Instead, just like he’d ignored my protests earlier, his features ignore expectation and create a face that’s impossible to ignore.

“My mother will roll in her grave if I allow someone to further injure themselves when there’s no need,” he replies, and as if the matter is settled, he looks to Lily Dancer’s reins, ensuring the mare won’t become entangled, before turning towards my cottage.

I purse my lips. I’m loath to admit it, but my ankle does hurt something fierce. However, even on threat of death, I will never admit that I’m enjoying being held.

I’ve lived alone for years, necessary because I age so much slower than the average human. It meant companionship was few and far between, and I never let a partner get too close. Which ensured the relationships never lasted long either.

That’s all this is, I decide. It’s been so long since my last lover that it’s only natural my stomach swoops with excitement as another waft of his scent fills my nose. It’s pure masculine warmth and promises. Petrichor and amber with the green notes of a summer meadow. I barely resist tucking my face against his neck and breathing deep.

“I can sense the wards,” he murmurs. I blink rapidly, coming back to the present. Right, wards. So creatures like him couldn’t pass.

I sketch a sigil in the air, verdant green magic flowing from my fingers like ink. It fades from view the moment the sigil is complete, leaving an impression similar to a firework disappearing from the night sky.

“Thank you,” Ashe says and continues forward. When we pass through the small wooden gate, he pauses again without being asked and I raise the ward once more.

“You’ll be able to leave whenever you want,” I assure him. “It only keeps things out.”

He inclines his head, his eyes full of mischief. I narrow my own with suspicion but whatever the vampire was considering saying, he must have thought better of. With his long stride, we’re across my small yard quickly and I fish my key from my pocket, blushing as I’m forced to wiggle against him.

It brings us into much too much contact, and it only makes me more frantic to free the iron key from its prison of cotton. Finally, I’m able to raise it triumphantly, as if I’ve completed a Trial of Heracles, and Ashe bends enough that I’m able to unlock the door.

He carries me across the threshold, and I point to the padded bench between my cluttered kitchen table and the stone hearth that divides my small cottage. He lowers me with unexpected gentleness, straightening my skirts so my modesty’s preserved.

“A vampire gentleman,” I tease without thought, and my eyes go wide. My mouth has always been faster than my mind.

Ashe barks out a laugh. Thank the goddess he isn’t offended. I may be powerful, especially in my own cottage, but with his unnatural speed, he could rip out my throat before my power ejected him from the wards. He looks around, clearly curious about my home.

“It’s nothing as grand as I’m sure you’re used to,” I say, but not with shame. I’m proud of the life I’ve carved out here on my own.

My cottage had once belonged to Agnes, the elderly hedge witch and midwife of the area. She’d taken me in when I’d wandered through the area after leaving my coven. It was a modest size, with a sleeping loft accessible by a ladder. I’d slept downstairs, on the right side of the divided cottage, on a pallet near the double-sided hearth. That side of the cottage, Agnes had set up her small kitchen, round table with two chairs, and another more plush armchair angled towards the four-paned window on that side of the front door. The left side of the hearth was dedicated to her craft, and it doubled as a workspace for when the locals sought her medical assistance.

In exchange for room and board, Agnes taught me everything she knew about using wild magic, being a healer, and even her midwife and medical skills. When anyone asked, she told them I was a granddaughter who came to assist her since she was getting on in years. It always amused me when people thought she was approaching her eighth decade of life. In reality, Agnes was nearing two hundred.

She’d taught me everything she knew and within a year, we both knew I’d be taking over her duties when she made her way to the goddess. The night I’d lit her funeral pyre, I’d cried for the first time since I left my coven.

“It reminds me of my childhood home.”

I cock my head at Ashe’s words. “A humble beginning then?”

The vampire gestures to the wood pile and the banked coals in the hearth in silent question. When I nod, he crouches before the hearth and coaxes the fire back to life as he answers. “My father was a logger who died when I was five or so, leaving my seamstress mother with four of us to feed. My uncle was the stable master of the local lord, so I was sent off to him along with my two older brothers to work for him.”

Satisfied with the fire, Ashe rises and brushes his hands off on his thighs as he turns to face me. He’s grinning and my breath catches at the beauty of him.

“I slept in the hayloft with the other littles,” he says without an ounce of shame. “To me, it might as well have been a palace. My bed was as comfortable as I chose to make it with the hay, and I had a pillow and blanket all to myself. Worked in the stables, learned to ride better than any noble. And I had a habit of sneaking into places I shouldn’t be.”

A grin twists my lips and I raise my brows at him. “Let me guess, like young ladies’ beds?”

Ashe shoots me a rakish grin. He moves around to the other side of the table, taking a seat on the other bench. “When Lord Rivington took notice of my skills, I became a personal messenger.” A shadow darkens his eyes, and he looks away before back at me, his expression back to easy joviality. “A minor war happened, Ambrose found me, and I’ve been with the Nightshades ever since.”

There’s pain hidden in his words, but I know better than to press. My stomach decides to remind me that lunch was hours ago. Loudly.

Before I can say anything, Ashe stands again. “How about this,” he says, giving me no chance to speak. “Why don’t you tell me what you need to fix that ankle of yours and, in return, I’ll make you dinner.”

I jerk my head back at the suggestion. “That is entirely unnecessary, and not even a fair trade. You get nothing out of it.”

It sounded all too much like the type of deal my parents often sought.

Ashe cocks his head, a lock of sable hair falling across his forehead and my fingers twitch with the urge to push it back. The slow, lopsided grin he gives me offers a teasing point of a fang. “I don’t consider the pleasure of your company nothing.”

My cheeks flame; the heat quickly spreads to my ears before rushing down my entire body and pooling between my legs. I duck my head and straighten my skirts unnecessarily as I compose myself.

“Well then,” I say after clearing my throat. I point towards a clay pot on one of the shelves along the far wall. “Please get me the salve labeled willow bark and arnica.”