I suspect she’ll try to escape me the first chance she gets, and I intend to be ready for it. I intend to stop her.
I think of the protective ward I erected to keep her safe from the mangga swarm. Perhaps I will use such wards to keep her where I want her to stay. My little captive. After we reach the Winter Court army, when I must leave her behind in camp, it will be a useful tactic to prevent her from running away. I try to tell myself that I would only resort to such forceful measures because I want to keep her safe, but the truth is a bit darker than that.
The truth is… the mere thought of losing her fills me with murderous rage. Every time I look at her, I experience a wave of possessiveness that steals my breath. I would burn the entire realm to the ground just to keep her with me.
She’s mine. My precious mate.
I will not part with her. No matter what. Not even if she begs me to free her. Not even if she’s unhappy with me.
Besides, I’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy. I swear it on the gods.
And yet… as I stare down at her sleeping form, a wave of doubt hits me.
How do I go about making a human woman who fears me happy? I don’t know any fae males who’ve been fated to human females. Except perhaps for King Theron, though I haven’t yet confirmed whether Helena is his mate.
Gods. I think of my late parents. They were happily mated. They were as in love as a fae couple might be. But they found contentment together before I was ever born. I didn’t get to witness the cultivation of their joyous union. And so, I don’t know if my father did anything in particular to woo my mother.
Fucking fires. I drag a hand through my hair, and it catches on my curving horns. I jerk my arm down as frustration sweeps over me, a burning heat that’s almost painful.
Isabel stirs in her sleep, and her visage twists with fear. She starts murmuring in her unconscious state, and the words she speaks only serve to intensify the turmoil swirling through me.
“Please. Please let me go, Gideon. No. Please. Just let me go.”
Before I can stop it, a growl tears from my throat, causing Isabel to bolt awake. She shoots upward, holding the furs to her neck, as though using them like a shield, and peers at me with a fearful look that guts me completely.
She gazes at me with wide eyes, and she soon starts trembling. All because of me. Because I’m staring at her as though I want to rip her throat out.
I immediately turn away and walk to the entrance of the cave. I remain there for some time, peering into the darkness. Eventually, a hint of sun appears on the horizon, the faintestaura of light. It’s almost morning, and I promised Isabel we would leave to find her father before sunrise.
Should I apologize for waking her up with an angry growl? Should I apologize for glaring down at her and scaring her? I hadn’t meant to frighten her, but it’s more than obvious that I did.
Deep breaths. In and out. I try to summon a sense of calm. The last thing I want to do is terrorize my mate, unwittingly or otherwise. For a reason I might never know, the gods have deemed that we are meant to be together. I should consider myself lucky and even blessed that I finally found her after all these years of searching and wondering.
Sometimes, people die. Fae. Humans. Orcs. No one is impervious to death. And so, there are occasionally cases where some fae males and females never find their fated mates, cases of utter loneliness that stretch for eons. I should be thankful that’s not the situation I’m facing. I should be thankful that I finally found Isabel.
And I am thankful… gods, I do want to keep her.
More than anything.
Striving for a calm expression, I finally turn to face her. I try to give her an affectionate look, though she still appears frightened, so I’m not quite sure if I’m doing it right. I’m not used to showing anyone affection. It’s been decades since I hugged my mother—may the gods watch over her sweet soul—and I’ve never had any sisters or female cousins.
“Little moth,” I whisper softly. I take a few steps closer to Isabel and crouch before her. Reaching out, I take one of her hands and give it a gentle squeeze.
“Gideon.” Her eyes dance around the cave for several moments before finally returning to me.
She swallows hard and keeps looking at me. Eventually, the glimmer of fear in her pretty green eyes starts to fade.
“Is something wrong?” she asks quietly. “Did, um, the manggas attack again?”
“Nothing is wrong,” I say.
Guilt hits me as she stares at me disbelievingly, and I wonder if I’m partly lying to her. I did promise her honesty. Godsdamn. Drawing in another deep breath, I resolve to tell the truth.
“Actually, I-I was just thinking about how I might convince you to like me, and it made me think of my parents, and I experienced a wave of dramatic thoughts, and then I heard you talking in your sleep. The exact words you said… well, I did not care for them. So, I growled and woke you up, and I suppose I should apologize for scaring you. Again.” The tips of my pointed ears burn as though they’re on fire. I have never in my life groveled, and it feels like that’s what I’m doing now. Who knew I had such weakness inside me?
“Oh,” she says, her eyes flaring wide. “I was dreaming about you chasing me, and I was begging you to let me go. I’ve been told that I sometimes talk in my sleep.”
I give a slight nod, and I resolve that going forward, I will better control my emotions and just give Isabel quiet honesty from the start. Surely that will be better than constantly having to apologize and prostrate myself before her as though I’m surrendering in battle.
