Road To Winter (Fae's Captive #2)(3)

I look into her eyes, and it’s like a kick in the gut. Fear. Her sweet scent of arousal has changed to one of terror. And I’m the one who is scaring her.

Even though my instincts rage, I release her and set her on her feet. She backs away to Gareth, who is wise enough not to touch her.

“He needs help.” Gareth hurries over to me and examines my wounds.

“I’m fine.” I feel the urge to shove him away, to barrel right past him and to the one who can ease the ache inside me.

“Leander.” He takes a deep breath. “Look at her. She’s not used to any of this. It’s all terrifying to her. And you’re not helping right now.”

“She’s my mate,” I argue, but my fangs retract, and my mind begins to clear. I hadn’t hurt her, had I? Guilt burrows under my skin as I look at her, her teeth chattering as she hugs herself. What have I done?

“I’m going to do my best to heal some of these.” He points to the cuts along my back and arm.

“Oh, Ancestors, no,” I groan. Gareth is great with a destruction spell, if a bit wild, but his healing can go either way. I once saw him try to repair Grayhail’s broken leg. When Gareth was done, Gray had two broken legs.

“I have to try. You aren’t healing.”

“No.” I lean away from him.

“Hold tight.” A blast of green shoots around me, the magic teasing along the edge of my depleted stores. My wounds burn, and I fear he’s ripped them open even more. Another blast of green, and more stinging pain have me gritting my teeth.

“Not so bad.” Gareth sits back and inspects me. “Still need some time for them to heal all the way, but at least the bleeding’s stopped.”

The fog lifts all the way, my senses snapping back into place. “Taylor.” I look up at her, anguish in my heart. “I’m so sorry, little one.”

She nibbles her bottom lip and shakes her head a little.

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You have fangs.” Her voice trembles.

Gareth gasps, and I can only stare at her.

“You speak fae?” Gareth barks.

“I do now. The witch—she wanted to talk to me, and she couldn’t do it in changeling, so she—”

“Gave her that knowledge for free,” the witch grumbles. “Thought I’d eat her before she could put the language to use, though.”

I rise to my knees, and Gareth helps me to my feet. The poison is fading, my body growing stronger with each breath.

“Fangs,” Taylor says again, and stares at my mouth. That look sends tendrils of heat licking along my skin. She has no idea what a delicious lure she is.

“And you … you changed.” Her brows knit together. “Like you were—”

“Feral.” I move toward her, and the relief I feel when she doesn’t back away is a salve on my wounds more powerful than magic. “When a fae has lived for several ages, the feral part of us grows stronger.”

“Feral?” She asks. “Like a cat?”

“A cat? More like a primal creature that relies on instinct and basic needs.”

“So, a cat.” She nods.

“The only cats I know of are the shifting panthers of the Twisted Pines, and I suppose they are somewhat feral, but are more known for cheating at cards than anything else.” I stand in front of her and press a hand to her cheek where a scratch veers toward her ear. “I’m so sorry you saw me like that, little one. Are you hurt?”

I hold my breath, fearing she will say I hurt her in some way.

“No. The witch just talked to me, really. I mean, she pulled me out of my bed and had me walk through the woods. But, considering all that’s happened in the past few days, chatting with her was probably the least dangerous thing I’ve done.” She glances behind her at the witch who’s still encased in my ice up to her waist. “But don’t get me wrong. She’s creepy as all hell.”

“I could’ve eaten you, girl.” The witch sniffs. “Could’ve feasted on your bones and fresh meat. I didn’t, yet you call me names.”

I step between Taylor and the witch. “Threaten my mate again, black one, and I will finish you.”

“Not a threat. Just saying what I could have done, but didn’t do.” She spits on the ground, and the spot sizzles. “Not creepy. Magnanimous!”

“You promised me a boon for your life. Are you prepared to give it?” I move closer to her, my strength returning and relief that Taylor is unharmed buoying me.

“Compelled.” She spits again. “Compelled by the king beyond the mountain. But I drew blood.” She grins, her sharp black teeth like a wild animal’s. “I drew royal blood. An Obsidian witch does not break. I will not break, and I did what I was compelled to do. I no longer feel it. But I do feel the tether of our agreement.” She grumbles and tries to pull one leg free to no avail. “Cold.”

I point at the frost around her. “I’ll free you only after you’ve granted the boon.”

“I promised the boon for your mate. Not you.” She taps the side of her nose. “But I can grant you one as well, if you’d like to bargain for one.”

“I don’t bargain.” No fae will volunteer to make promises, and if one does, it never bodes well.