Page 250 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
We fell asleep that night snuggled close in our mutual contentment, our eyes wide open. Nothing we saw in the distance made us want to blink.
Forty-One
Pete
Aloud,“Ehhem,”woke Pete. How long he’d slept, he didn’t ken, but he felt well-rested. Shorty dozed skin to skin with him, drooling on his bicep, her hair tickling his ribs. Rubbing his eyes, Pete found the source of the disturbance at the foot of the bed—where Sedge stood, peaky and sardonic.
Partially sitting, Pete glanced down at Shorty—Aphrodite in slumber. His lips hitched into a smirk. He couldn’t even feign remorse.
Sedge tossed up a hand. “What was theonething we agreed you shouldn’t do, Pete?”
After searching his soul for a sheepish reply, Pete settled on a half-hearted, “Oops.”
Saying something unsavory under his breath, Sedge stalked to the doorway. “Come find me when you’re decent. And wipe that shite grin off your face, or I’ll do it for you.”
Later while Shorty was bathing (it was a wonder she still had skin as frequently as she scrubbed it), Pete went to find Sedge—fully clothed, as ordered.
He found him, half-clothed himself in the warmth of Eden’s eternal gloaming, restocking the garden’s tool shanty, which stood beneath an enormous fae fig tree with bright red leaves. Sidestepping Kit, who lay in the grass, wolfing fallen fruits, Pete approached Sedge as a blaring donkey bray rankled the tree ape communities.
“You found Bob,” Pete started, smiling at his auld, cantankerous beast. He patted Bob’s dappled haunch until he calmed. “However did you manage to get him down the ravine?”
“Didn’t.” Sedge hoisted a crate of agricultural tools out of the wagon bed. “Took the long way. And Bob foundme. Must’ve been avoiding the Leprechauns. They were nosing around nearby when he and I crossed paths. I’d led a handful of other harbingers into the Woebegone Wood, as you said, but the Leprechauns—they wouldn’t take my bait. Anyhow, had to kill their hounds, I did, before we could give them the slip.”
“Ah, that explains that.”
“Explains what?”
“Why their hounds were missing when they caught me.”
Sedge froze, then dropped the crate by the shanty. He set his lethal hands on his hips and eyed Pete, a parent tempted to box his child’s ear. “Tell me all.”
So, Pete told him—from discovering Shorty was the Aurora to the night of her summoning.
Afterward, Sedge sighed. “I suppose we owe the princess a debt for saving your sorry hide.”
Pete leaned back against his wagon, arms folded. “Aye, she did.” Frankly, the effort she put forth to do so still mystified him. If not for her constant, pestering presence, Pete might’ve let Gentian’s plague take him. Because Danu knew, he’d suffered something fierce. As anyone whose lungs had turned against him would.
Now, Pete suspected that he wasn’t only Shorty’s anchor. Could she also be his?
“But how is an affinity bond even possible betwixt the two of you?” Sedge asked. “She’s fae.”
“Her body is. Her spirit, however—well, I’ve been assured it’s human.”
Sedge’s triangular brows rose. “Human?”
“Mm-hm.” Pete smirked. “Imagine my surprise.”
After several moments, Sedge finally chuckled to himself. “Maybe that’s what I scented on you two—the scent that drew the Incubus—that bond.”
Pete’s own nostrils flared, whiffing the tang of sweat, citrus, and oak moss as always, just now mingling with notes of morning dew and fresh pears. A heady, potent combination. Much stronger than it would be from just having a ride. “Sorry if we offend your senses.”
“Nothing amiss with my senses. Yours, however, are lacking—at least in your head.”
Pete grunted, mostly agreeing.
“Tell me true now, mate—have you fallen in love with her?”
Lost for words—maybe willfully—Pete turned up a hand in response.
