Page 16 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
This place was cold and harsh, but damn, was it beautiful.
The fae didn’t so much as glance at the magnificent landscape. He was busy looking at the tent. Did he expect me to help take it down? How did a person even begin to take apart a magical tent that was bigger on the inside than the outside? And how was he going to carry this all away when he didn’t even have a wagon?
Before I could ask, he lifted one hand and bent the little finger to his palm. His ring finger went next, then the middle.
Breath steaming, I couldn’t help but watch each movement. A prickle crept across my cheek where his calluses had brushed yesterday.
Once his hand formed a fist, the tent moved. Like a piece of paper, one side folded in on itself, then another, one corner, then the next. Corner after corner, inwards, inwards, inwards, until there was only a square of folded canvas no larger than a dinner plate sitting in the centre of flattened snow. No sign remained of the chests, the bed, the rug, or the fire. It was all…
I shook my head and threw him a wide-eyed look, but he merely retrieved the folded tent. Then, with a soft word I didn’t recognise, he called the deer to him.
The tent disappeared into a saddlebag and from another, he produced a pale grey cloak. He shook it out. Fine silver thread picked out a design of snowflakes and stars running down the front. “Does this meet the threadwitch’s approval?” One eyebrow and one side of his mouth rose. The dimple in his cheek mocked me.
I gritted my teeth, both at the mockery and the sense I was being dressed up like some pampered pet with a diamond collar. I’d seen fluffy dogs like that in paintings at Hawthorne House. Was that how he saw me? His human pet to show off to other fae when they came to visit or did whatever the hells fae did.
My throat tightened and that familiar wadding filled half my chest.
Gods, I didn’t even know what fae did. Or his name. And he hadn’t asked mine. No way was I going to volunteer it when he hadn’t offered first. He held the power here, but that didn’t mean I was going to give him more.
He sighed. “It isn’t poisoned, cursed, or in any way harmful to human or fae. But it is warm, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t freeze to death. You humans are so delicate.”
That cut through my threatening panic and heated my veins. “Maybe I should show you just how delicate I am.” I gave him a sharp-edged smile, and never before had I missed my embroidery scissors so much. Hurting him would be fair game, if I somehow managed it—he was fae, armed, and considerably stronger than me. Plus,kidnapping.
His brows shot up and that mocking smirk became a grin that showed his sharp canines.
I flinched, the heat of my anger quenched. What was I doing challenging him? Had I forgotten what he was—what he was capable of? He could squash me like a bug under his shoe.
If I couldn’t be nice, I should try to be polite. That, at least, would give him no reason to destroy me. “The cloak actually looks well-made.” I shrugged, begrudging the fact it was true. “The embroidery is excellent.”
Coming far too close, he swept it around my shoulders. A glint flashed in his eyes as he pulled the collar together at my throat. “Good enough to make you moan like breakfast did?”
Face burning, I snatched the collar from him and fastened it. “Piss off, fae.”
He laughed as he turned and readied the stag with blankets and a saddle. “Touché. Consider me mortally wounded with your iron-tipped retort.” So he couldn’t lie, but sarcasm was allowed.
If only I did have some iron on me—that would shut him up.
Beyond him, the stag towered over us. Each antler was almost as long as I was tall. The doe wasn’t much smaller. When he smoothed a blanket over her flanks, I shuffled and crossed my arms. I couldn’t get on that thing. I’d never ridden a sabrecat, let alone a deer.
As he buckled the saddle in place, I cleared my throat. “I—I can’t ride.” I kept my eyes on the deer’s hooves.
He gave a soft grunt of surprise. “Then you’ll have to ride with me.” The next thing I knew, his hands were on my waist. He hoisted me into the air like I weighed nothing, and I barely had time to yelp and swing one leg over the stag’s back. Then I was sitting on it, holding the front of the saddle for dear life. The ground was a long way down. If I fell from here, I’d break my neck.
A moment later, the fae was behind me, chest at my back, muscular thighs around my hips.
Stiffening, I gripped the saddle tighter. My pulse thudded at my throat, my temples, deep in my belly. No wonder so many of the romance books Rose and I loved involved the couple being forced to share a mount at some point. This had us very…close.
His arms came around me as he took the reins. “Hmm.” The sound reverberated through me, and I couldn’t help but gasp. “Just…” With one large hand he held my hip and shifted me to one side, something commanding in the manoeuvre. “That’s better,” he murmured in my right ear, and his breath was just as warm as I’d imagined when he’d whispered to the Hawthorne girl.
Damn me for putting on so many layers, because I was burning.
And once the stag started moving, it only got worse. The gait had the fae’s hips rolling in time, brushing my backside, while I craned forward, trying to avoid contact as much as possible.
“You’re going to want to relax. Sitting like that will destroy your back after an hour.” His arm looped around my waist, and he tugged me closer. “By the end of the day, your whole body will hurt so badly, you’ll wish you were dead.”
For one second I stayed there, soaking up the warm solidity. Lords and Ladies, it would’ve been easy to enjoy the feel of him, like it had been easy to enjoy that exquisite breakfast.
But he’d stolen me. He was fae. He wasdangerous.
