When I spot a familiar mountain, I head straight for the dark mouth of a cave. The Winter Court army camped on this mountain several weeks ago, and we left some supplies behind in the largest cave in case any of our aerial scouts, like my friend Lord Blackthorne, happened to venture this way during their scouting missions. I’m grateful for the foresight as I land just inside the entrance of the cave.
Just after I land, I vanish my wings in a flash of light. Then I gently set my mate on her feet and turn her to face me. I cup her cheeks and stare into her eyes, wanting to verify that she is indeed the human female from my dreams. Familiar green eyesstare back at me, and warmth spreads through my chest. Yes, she is the woman from my dreams, my golden-haired beauty.
My mate.
A new sense of possessiveness grips me.
She belongs to me, and I will never let her go.
Finally, after two thousand years of waiting for my fated mate, I have found her. Some of the loneliness that’s clung to me, the dark emptiness I feared would never abate, begins to fade as I continue staring into her eyes.
“Are you injured?” I ask, holding her at arm’s length as I look her up and down, even though she’s fully dressed and wearing a thick cloak that conceals her body. I don’t smell any blood, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she isn’t hurt or in pain.
“No,” she whispers.
Relief fills me.
“Tell me, little moth, what is your name?”
She draws in a shaky breath and tries to step back, but I tighten my hold on her face, not allowing her to retreat.
“Your name,” I say. “Tell me your name.”
“Isabel,” she murmurs softly.
“Ah. As I suspected. Isabel Sinclair.” I release her face but immediately take hold of her shoulders, still not allowing her to step back.
The moonlight bathes her in a soft blue hue, but if she ventures deeper into the cave, it will be utterly dark until I light a few torches. But before we get settled in the cave, I want to know about her father.
“Yes. Isabel Sinclair,” she whispers, growing paler. Tears glimmer in her eyes, and I have the abrupt urge to pull her close and promise she’ll always be safe with me…
But I don’t. Not yet. I need to understand why she fled Braemar and learn the location of her father and whether he’s still alive. It’s shocking to me how far she was able to travel asI searched for her. I doubt she was alone all this time. Someone with a keen sense of navigation must’ve helped her. Her father, most likely. Yet when I plunged into the forest to save her from the direwolves, I detected no signs of any other humans nearby.
“I am pleased to meet you, Isabel,” I finally say. “I am Lord Gideon Ashvale of Frostfall, and I am a commander in the Winter Court army. I was sent to look for you and your father.”
Her eyes flare wider, and a lone tear cascades down her cheek. I briefly release one of her shoulders so I can wipe away that tear. She shivers at my touch but doesn’t attempt to step back again.
“I-I don’t…” Her voice trails off, and I’m not sure what she meant to say. But she appears stunned to her core, as though she might be on the verge of shock.
I attempt to soften my visage, hoping to ease her fears.
“Where is your father, little moth?” I ask gently.
“I have no intention of revealing my father’s location.” She lifts her chin, a resolute gleam entering her eyes. But despite her attempt at bravery, her entire body continues to tremble. She’s shaking like a leaf in the winter wind.
Unused to being denied information, I narrow my eyes and clutch her shoulders just a bit tighter. Does she truly think she can refuse to answer my questions? She’s a runner… a human who fled a fae-occupied city before Tribute Day.
And now, she’s my captive.
If she weren’t my mate, and if King Theron hadn’t ordered me to leave the fate of the Sinclairs up to him, I would carry her back to Braemar and put her in the dungeon or the corral with the other human prisoners. Then she would be designated as a slave, forced to endure a life of servitude to my people until the end of her days.
I hope that when she realizes what we are to one another, she will be grateful that I found her when I did.
“So, your father is still alive, then?” I ask.
She presses her lips tightly together and glares at me. Glares. A human, glaring at me! It’s so preposterous, I almost laugh. Doesn’t she realize what a fae male might do to a human woman? She definitely fears me, but she’s not as afraid as one might expect. Is it bravery or foolishness that drives her… or something else? Is she that determined to protect her father?
A low growl emanates from my chest, and I pull the human female closer. I lean down until my face is level with hers.
