I sit up ramrod straight. That won’t be happening to me, thank you very much.
No matter how pretty their packaging, how compelling their story, I will not be taken in. Nope.
Though, I have to admit, upon closer inspection, the three seem a bit worse for wear.
Their clothes are rumpled, not the polished finery, and there’s a hunted look in their eyes. Maybe they really are just looking for a new place to live. Caelan in particular seems to be doing his best imitation of tired innocence, and the orc, though completely overwhelmingly huge, seems genuine enough.
“What about the apothecary?” I force myself to ask, unwilling to utter Willow’s name. Last thing I need is to give these Fae another name. Goddess only knows what they’d do with it.
My skin prickles at the knowledge they have mine.
“She could use some help finding some of the more rare herbs and—”
“Perfect,” Caelan says quickly. “Perfect. The—” he clears his throat, pausing. “Kieran is excellent at finding things like that. It’s in his nature.” He says this as an aside to me, a conspiratorial slant to his smile.
I take another bite of the honey-sweet bread, staring him down as I chew meaningfully. See? I want to tell him. Bread and salt. You can’t hurt me.
I don’t trust you.
Kieran, the winged fae, buzzes in slight outrage, his cheeks turning a brighter purple.
“Don’t deny it Kieran,” Ga’Rek says, putting a particular emphasis on the name. “You have a singular way with plants. The apothecary would be a good fit.”
Kieran scowls at Ga’Rek, who just huffs a laugh and slathers a piece of bread with Piper’s homemade butter, spiked with more honey a spell for pleasant thoughts, if I know her.
And I do.
“And what do you do, witchling?” Caelan leans further forward, and I taste the scent of magic clinging to him <scent here>.
I cant my head at him, annoyed with his presumptive tone, as well as the stupid nickname. “It’s been a long time since I was a witchling. You already have my name, anyway.”
“Well,” he says the word slowly, positively beaming at me. “I might have your name, but I have better manners than to use it without your permission.”
I glance at Piper, and she cringes slightly, nodding. Right. No help there.
“I’m Wren,” I say delicately. “Do you plan on doing something with my name, Caelan of the Underhill?” There’s as much brave challenge in that question as I can muster.
I am a fantastic jeweler, a fact I take heart in despite the Guild’s rejection, and a great enchantress of jewels and metals.
But there’s not much in my witchy arsenal that would be effective against this man— a fact I’m all too aware of at the moment.
“Wren,” he says slowly, dragging the syllable out in a way that makes my heart flutter strangely. “I think you’ll find that all I want to do with your name is speak it with pleasure.”
I choke on my bite of bread, the rest of the table very studiously ignoring whatever in the world Caelan’s just said to me.
It certainly shouldn’t set me on fire from head to toe.
It certainly shouldn’t set me to the point of distraction.
“I don’t need help right now,” I manage to croak.
“No, I suppose your type of work is solitary,” Caelan continues, his icy lavender gaze pinning me in place. I can hardly breathe from the weight of it. “But if you need help, you know where to find me.”
“Actually, no, I don’t know where to find you.” I snort, laughing a bit out of nerves and at the absurdity of this entire situation. Underhill Fae. In my friend’s bakery. In our small town, which is supposed to be my safe bubble from the troubles of the outside world, and decidedly safe from the Unseelie.
Fenn, picking up on my distress, lets out his absolute worst ear-shattering howl.
There’s nothing quite like a fox yowl to break the mood. I let myself smile, and I mean it, because I have no doubt my vocal familiar will stop whatever this Fae’s fixation on me is.
Caelan, however, simply leans closer, his nostrils flaring.
“You smell of the earth. Dark places. Precious metals. Magic.” He tilts his head, that glossy, soft-looking black hair slipping from the knot at his neck. “I would like to help you, if you let me.” His eyes meet mine, arresting and otherworldly beautiful.
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There is so much more to come!
ALSO BY JANUARY BELL
FANTASY TITLES:
FAE PROMISES
Orc Bait
Princes & Promises
A CONQUEROR’S KINGDOM
Of Gods & Gold
FATED BY STARLIGHT
Following Fate: Prequel Novella
Stolen By The Scorpio: Book Two
SCIENCE FICTION TITLES:
STARLIGHT BRIDES
Alien Werewolf’s Prize
Alien Kraken’s Prize
ACCIDENTAL ALIEN BRIDES
Wed To The Alien Gladiator
Wed To The Alien Beast
Wed To The Alien Assassin
Wed To The Alien Rogue
BOUND BY FIRE
Alien in Flames
ALIEN DATING GAMES
Alien Tides
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
January Bell writes steamy fantasy and sci-fi romance with a guaranteed happily ever after. Combining pure escapism, a little adventure, and a whole lotta love makes for romance that's a world apart. January spends her days writing, herding kids and ducks, and spends the nights staring at the stars.
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