He stepped closer, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice. “Still think I’m an axe murderer?”
I swallowed.
“Jury’s out.”
Faelan raised the berry and peered at it in the moonlight. “These are fine eating.”
I hesitated. “Sure, yousaythat—”
He raised an eyebrow, then popped it in his mouth.
Okay. Fair point.
“There is a story,” he said. Each word hung in the air like an ember that refused to fade.
“Of course there is.”
He ignored that. “Once, a man loved a woman who didn’t return his feelings. The one she refused was strong and handsome, full of laughter and life. The one she chose instead was quiet and stern, nothing but shadow.”
He had an accent, I realized, as his story spun out. Just the faintest trace. Something that could’ve come from Glasgow or Sydney or even Idaho for all I knew. As if he weren’t already stupidly exotic.
“Whilst the dour man thrived, the shining man turned bitter. He took his grief and poured it into the earth, and shaped it into something beautiful and bright. A gift that would tempt. A gift that would linger on the tongue.”
His fingers found another berry, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Soon, the berry juice darkened his fingertips.
“But not all things beautiful are meant to be taken. The dour man ate the fruit…and left his love weeping over his still body.”
I swallowed, more from the weight of his voice than the berries.
Faelan reached for me.
Slow. Deliberate.
He brushed his thumb over my lower lip and painted it berry-sweet. The shock of it hit harder than the taste. A stranger—a complete stranger—was touching my mouth like he freaking owned it, and I just…stood there and let it happen.
I should have pulled back and demanded to know what in the hell he thought he was doing—but my breath caught, and my body refused to move. Reflexively, I followed his swipe with my tongue. Tart sweetness bloomed on my tastebuds.
But all I could focus on was him.
4
Sam
“Not all things that look sweet will nourish you,” Faelan murmured.
I forgot about the dumb cult.
I forgot I was starving.
I forgot about everything except the way this impossibly huge man made heat rush down between my legs so fast I felt lightheaded with need. I hadn’t intended to devour him. One minute, I was about to argue that I absolutely knew better than to eat random berries, and the next, I was kissing Faelan as if the entire world depended on it.
It started with the smallest brush of his lips. I tasted wild earth and the faint tang of whatever sweet juice had stained my own mouth. My knees nearly buckled. He caught me around the waist, his fingers pressing into me firmly like an anchor in the dark.
When I finally pulled away, I swallowed hard, trying to piece my wits back together. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”
“I never claimed to be.” Faelan’s voice resonated like distant thunder: low, certain, impossible to ignore.
“I’m—Sam, by the way.”
