“My car was on the road when it stalled. I have to find it so I can get back.”
“Would it be so bad for ye to stay?” he asked quietly. “Are ye so ready to leave behind a world of friendly tigers, unicorns, and Fae princes?”
“You look more like an alpha Highlander than a fairy prince. One of those hunky types on the covers of romance novels.” Why in the world had she said that? “No offence. Hunky alpha Highlanders aren’t a bad thing, and I’m not exactly an expert on fairy princes. That simply came to mind and flew out of my mouth before I could filter it. I sometimes have a problem with that.” But she had never beenthatunfiltered before. What was it about Jeros that made her say anything that came to mind? As if any thought that might flit through her mind needed to be shared with him because she knew he would take it to heart and understand her?
He grimaced. “I am not afairy, one of those winged bugs with the dust that makes children fly. I came across that book in the Dreaming. I am aFaeprince. A mighty Seelie of the Light.”
“Sorry.” She resettled her stance and looked away, unable to keep looking him in the eye because…well, just because. She saw so much in that electric blue of his eyes. It was as if they drew her in and threatened to never let her go.Let her go. Go.She had to go. “Maggie can’t take care of my patients forever, and my people at Vinemagic Horse Farms need me.”
“What about what ye need for yerself? Do ye not feel it, lass? The pull? The insistent drawing together? As steady and strong as the moon pulls the tide?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That was a lie. She knew exactly what he was talking about, and it frightened her witless.
He tipped his head to one side and smiled, the sort of smile a parent gave their child when they’d caught them with their hand in the cookie jar. “Lexi.”
“What?”
“There is something ye should know about the Seelie.”
“And what is that?”
“We can smell untruths.”
Interesting. She folded her arms and resettled her stance again. “And what exactly does an untruth smell like?”
He tipped his nose higher and sniffed. “I would describe it as the scent of stagnated pond muck.”
“Eww.”
“Exactly. Now, would ye care to change yer answer?”
“I have responsibilities.” She patted her chest. “And the way I was raised, everything I was taught, cries out for me to do right by my friends, my employees, and my board of directors. If I simply abandon them and dive into this strange, wonderful world I have somehow wandered into, my guilt about shirking those responsibilities will turn into a festering wound that ruins everything else in my life.”
“And what of the need to bond with yer fated mate?”
She clenched her teeth so hard that it made her cheeks ache. How could she explain that she was so tired of failed relationships and was reluctant to dive into another, no matter how strong the urge might be? She had seen the way he subtly flinched whenever he looked at her scars, the way his gaze always returned to them, and how he struggled not to react. He was a drop-dead handsome prince who needed a beautiful trophy princess to hang on his arm. While there was nothing wrong with her, she was neither a trophy nor a beautiful princess and never would be. She might be a trophy in some circles, but she was a slightly battered one that would never be as pretty and uniform as the others on the shelf. “What if my fated mate has reservations about bonding with me? Why would I want to risk getting hurt? Why would I jump into a relationship that could very well end in resentment when I can plainly see that I am not what my fated mate expected?” Maybe he would give her an honest answer if she kept it a little vague and less accusatory.
“Just because I did not expect ye, does not mean I intend to deny our bond.”
She huffed a soft laugh as she flipped up her collar and released her hair from the ponytail she’d pulled it into to get it out of the way during the unicorn delivery. “The idea of fated mates is romantic, but hardly realistic.”
“So ye feel nothing for me?”
Tired of being the one attacked, she turned on him. “What do you feel for me? And be honest. Don’t be spewing any pond muck, because I can see how you feel about my scars. It’s in your eyes every time you look at me.”
His eyes, as cold and icy as any wolf’s, narrowed, but her victory was short-lived. She braced herself for whatever he was about to say. He took a step toward her, opening and closing his fists as if searching the air for the words he needed. “I will not lie and tell ye yer scars dinna matter. They give me pause each time I look upon yer face.”
She swallowed hard, but held her head high, determined not to let him see how much his honesty hurt. “Then why would you think to make me your fated mate? If I go back to where I belong, you can pick someone else. Not a fated mate, but someone you can look at without flinching.”
“I did not choose to make ye my fated mate,” he said, his head tipping thoughtfully. “Ye simply are. Ye are the other half of my soul. We have joined and been torn asunder over any number of incarnations. Those where we failed to find each other were a misery. Those where we discovered one another and claimed our bond were a joy. That is why I canna choose another.” The muscles in his square jaw rippled. The man was obviously grinding his teeth. “I always choose joy, no matter how difficult it might seem at first. Joy is a precious thing worth striving for. Do ye not believe so?”
“I will not be with someone who pities me or pities themself because they believe themselves stuck with me. I deserve better. I deserve genuine love.”
“Love will come.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because of the bond. With some, it is not love at first. So say the Defenders, the Divine Weavers, and the goddesses themselves. But I believe it can come, that it will come. Eventually.”
