“I thought I was your mate,” I blurt before I can think better of it, and gods, how my face flames hotter. Until now, neither of us has used the wordmatealoud, and I desperately wish I could take it back.
He releases my hands and runs his palms along my thighs, his touch tentative yet coaxing. The warmth quaking in my core deepens, and it takes all my willpower to keep from moaning.
His eyes smolder, burning with unmistakable desire. His lips quirk with an almost smile, but his visage remains serious and lustful, with that hint of fae cruelty that scares me as much as it excites me.
“Mates,” he says slowly in a deep voice that echoes through the cavern. “Yes, Isabel, we are mates. How interesting that you know that. I suppose that means you’ve been dreaming about me too.” He runs a hand down my leg, until he reaches my stocking-clad ankle, then he sweeps his hand upward again, only this time he’s touching me beneath my dress.
My breath hitches. I don’t push him away, though I think perhaps I should. I should be screaming for help and fighting him until my dying breath, yet here I am quivering at his touch, more breathless than I would care to admit, my heart fluttering in my chest.
“I will tell you about the… strange experiences that led me to realize we are mates,” I say carefully, “if you guarantee my father’s safety. Since I’m your mate, I doubt I’ll be punished for being a runner and fleeing Braemar before Tribute Day, but I want to make sure my father receives the same mercy.”
“I never said I wouldn’t punish you for running.” He grips the inside of my thigh, squeezing far too close to my center. “I never announced I would show you any mercy.”
I stare into his dark eyes, praying he’s toying with me. Are fae males sometimes cruel to their mates? I find myself wishing I knew more about Gideon’s people, and I suddenly feel woefully unprepared to become the mate of a powerful fae male… a highborn male who’s a commander in the Winter Court army. Fresh shivers rush through me even as the heated ache in my core builds to an incessant throb.
He draws in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “I can smell your arousal, little moth. You’re aching to be claimed right now, aren’t you? Even though you’re still a little worried I might punish you for being a runner.” He leans even closer and drags his nose along my cheek.
My face heats anew at the realization that he can detect my excitement. Trembling with a mix of desire and fear, I try to gather my thoughts. The wordpleaserests on the tip of my tongue, but I press my lips together, determined not to beg. Even if he hurts me, I won’t beg. I might plead with him to spare my father, but I won’t plead for myself.
If he’s going to be a cruel mate to me, then I suppose there’s not much I can do about it. He’s a powerful fae male and I’m a human woman with no magic. Even without magic, his physical strength would overwhelm me in seconds. If he truly wants to hurt me, I don’t stand a chance. I blink back tears.
He leans away and stares into my eyes. His gaze briefly flickers with surprise, then his expression gradually shifts from mockingly cruel to… concerned. It’s a stunning transformation, and I’m not sure what to think about it. I also glimpse flashes of guilt in his dark eyes.
I pray I’m not imagining it.
Perhaps he is used to taunting others and threatening violence to get his way, and now he’s realized that such tactics won’t work on me.
Then I recall the words he spoke just after he rescued me from the wolf-bears.
Don’t be afraid. I’ve got you, little moth.
He sounded so caring and sincere as he spoke those words, as though he wanted to comfort me. If he was truly cruel, wouldn’t he have mocked me for almost getting eaten by a pack of fae beasts? And surely he wouldn’t have asked whether I was injured, with a glimmer of concern in his eyes.
I’m not certain how fae mating bonds work. If I died before we consummated our union, would he mourn my death?
If lightning suddenly struck him dead, I don’t believe I would mourn his passing, but I decide to keep that thought to myself.
“Isabel, please forgive me for taunting you… for scaring you. You are my mate, and… I feel utterly possessive of you. I am displeased that you fled Braemar, likely because you were running from me and the bond you sensed between us. And I am angry that when I finally found you, you were in grave danger. I suppose that is no good reason to taunt you, however, and I beg your forgiveness. You are human, and I suppose it’s only natural for a human female to fear an impending mating bond with a fae male.”
As his gently spoken words sink into my consciousness, hope flickers to life inside me. Some of my fear fades, though not all of it. I remain acutely aware of Gideon’s status as a highborn fae male. That means he can probably command powerful magic. Thus far, I haven’t witnessed any magic beyond his ability to summon and vanish his massive black wings at will, but I suspect he’s capable of other magical feats. I’ve heard…stories. The customers who frequented the bakery liked to talk about the latest news brought by the traveling merchants. Whenever they traded stories about the fae, I always hung on their every word.
“I promise that no harm will come to your father, Isabel. King Theron instructed me to learn the whereabouts of you and your father, but he said I wasn’t to punish you myself. But even if he actually intends to mete out punishment for fleeing Braemar, I will stop him. We are good friends, and once he learns that you are my fated mate, well… that will change everything. He wouldn’t dare harm you or your father.”
Tears borne of relief burn in my eyes, and when I blink, several trickle down my cheeks. Gideon removes his hands frommy thighs and wipes away my tears with his thumbs, his touch gentle, his visage still soft with concern.
“Thank you, Lord Ashvale… er, Commander Ashvale.” I inhale a long breath, then slowly release it as I try to stop my hands from shaking. “Most of all, I appreciate that you will protect my father.”
“You may call me Gideon. Please. I insist.” He tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ear, and his fingers linger, then travel slowly down my neck, a fleeting caress that induces a pleasurable shiver within me.
“Gideon,” I whisper, and warmth undulates through me, waves of heat that clash with the chill of winter that clings to my fated mate.
My fated mate…
Gods, I can scarcely believe we are finally face to face.
“If I tell you why I fled Braemar, will you tell me exactly why you were ordered to hunt my father and me down?” Something isn’t adding up… like how the king knows my name and my father’s name as well. If someone witnessed us fleeing Braemar, why did they report our escape directly to the king? Hmm. I hope if I’m more forthcoming with Gideon, he’ll fill in the missing details. I only pray he’s telling the truth about keeping my father safe.
“Yes,” he finally says with a quick nod. “I will tell you anything you wish to know, little moth, if only you reveal the reason you fled Braemar, as well as whether you dreamed of me. I am curious to know how long you’ve known we are mates.”
