by Tasha Black
He smiled at her in spite of himself.
Bron had always enjoyed mortals. He understood all living things to some extent, even the fachan, in its way. But Bron was considered too big-hearted by many of his fae brothers. He was vulnerable to small, fragile things.
Including humans, despite the risks.
Mortals like this woman were very reckless with their short lifespans. They had so little to lose, and it made them dangerous. Bron’s nanny had warned him since he was a child to give mortals a wide berth.
But he was no child now.
And he’d never seen another mortal quite like this woman.
“Let’s get you someplace safe,” he said gruffly, trying not to let himself listen to her heartbeat.
She nodded and took a step, wincing when she did.
“You said you weren’t hurt,” he said accusingly.
“Well, I hurt my foot, but that was before all this,” the woman replied. “I’m not used to the woods. And these shoes are the worst.”
They looked together at her inadequate footwear. They really were terrible. Typical mortal female nonsense with pointed toes and spiky heels designed to give an illusion of tallness.
Many creatures tried to appear bigger to ward off predators. But this human was of ample height. She had no need for such things.
“Take them off,” he said.
She removed them meekly.
“I will carry you,” he told her.
Her eyes grew larger still, but she didn’t protest. She merely extended her arms to hold onto him as he scooped her up.
She felt incredible, warm and soft, her curves conforming to his hard muscle.
“What were you doing out here?” he asked her, trying to keep his mind off the feel of her body against his.
“I work for the developer who’s buying this land,” she told him. “There was an accident the other day and he wanted someone on the ground to ask questions.”
“Did he know you were going out alone after dark without proper footwear?” Bron demanded.
“Uh, the footwear is company policy,” Miranda said. “But it’s my fault it’s so late. I didn’t start off alone. I was working in the cabin and lost track of time. Everyone else went home.”
“I see,” Bron said.
He didn’t see though. The woman should not have been left unattended. The woods were full of monsters. Not that the mortals knew this. They were often blind to anything their meager senses could not explain.
This particular mortal was taking the news strangely well.
“So were you telling me the truth about the fachan?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “They’re very dangerous.”
“Then why haven’t I heard of it before?” she asked.
“It’s not commonly found here,” he told her carefully.
“In Pennsylvania?” she asked.
He chuckled at that. “Sure.”
“And what were those… lights?”
“How much do you know about faeries?” he asked.
She fell quiet.
“What about magic?” he asked.
Still no answer.
“Well, there’s no point beating around the bush,” he said. “What you saw were will o’ the wisps. They’re evil fae that lead mortals into danger.”
“Why?” she asked.
He hadn’t expected that question.
“I suppose they think it’s funny,” he told her.
“And you?” she asked.
Interesting.
He had thought that maybe she wouldn’t sense his magic. After all, he looked like a human male, except for being much larger and clearly stronger than most human males.
But he was beginning to realize there was something about her too, something… other than mortal.
“I am the King of the Wilds,” he told her proudly.
“Oh,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you, your majesty.”
She couldn’t bow since she was cradled in his arms, but he suspected she would have if she’d been on the ground. Instead, she lowered her eyes.
“You may call me Bron,” he decided.
“I’m Miranda,” she replied.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said.
“So why were you in the woods?” she asked him.
“Some of my kind broke through the veil between our worlds, and are causing chaos on your side,” he told her. “My brothers woke me to help them recapture the monsters and put them back where they belong.”
“You were asleep?” Miranda asked.
“For centuries,” he explained. “One of my brothers gave these monsters succor. And all of us were punished.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” Miranda said, resting her cheek against his chest.
Something about this simple, trusting gesture moved him.
He lowered his face to inhale her scent.
She was enchanting, her floral perfume mixing with the more interesting coppery scent of sweat.
He found himself longing to bed her.
It had been a few centuries, and he was clearly in need of a consort. But this human would hardly do. He needed a more sturdy partner for what he had in mind. Not some mortal that couldn’t find her way out of a forest.
“So you and your brothers just come into the woods and look for monsters?” she asked after a moment.
“Yes,” he told her. “And I’m going to take you to them so we can decide what to do with you until the fachan is captured.”
“No, no,” she said dismissively. “I have to get home. I’ve got work to do and I need a shower and something to eat.”
“The fachan got close to you, too close,” he told her. “He has tasted your scent. You are no longer safe.”
She shivered in his arms and he cuddled her closer without thinking about it, brushing his lips across the top of her head.
“Oh, there’s my car,” she said happily.
He had brought her out to the lot where the workers had been parking.
A single carriage remained.
“I’ll ride with you,” he told her. “I can tell you where to go. I’m meeting them at a diner in the village of Tarker’s Hollow. It’s called the Barry White Diner. You can have food there and we can make a plan.”
“I know the Barry White Diner,” she told him. “I’m from Tarker’s Hollow. We used to go there all the time in high school.”
“Excellent,” he said. “It is decided then.”
He was very sure she would accompany him. No one who had once eaten at the marvelous Barry White Diner would ever turn down a return visit.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll go and meet your brothers. Pancakes actually sound really good right now. But I’m not agreeing to be under house arrest until you find the fachan. It’s just a meal and a conversation.”
“Of course,” he told her. “As you wish.”
He had to deposit her on the ground so that she could open the door to the carriage the humans simply called called a car.
He was surprised to find how cold and empty his arms felt without her in them.
She dug for her keys and unlocked the car, hopping in the driver’s side. Bron got in as well, and she drove them carefully down the long rutted track that led back to Rosethorn Valley proper.
“They’re not going to let you in without a shirt,” she said, glancing over at him.
He noticed how her eyes lingered on the tattoos that decorated his pectoral muscles. She was correct. He’d borrowed a shirt from his brother when he’d last visited.
“I have one of my boss’s shirts in the back,” she said, indicating a plastic bag on the rear seat.
Bron grabbed it and opened it up. He highly doubted that her boss’s shirt would fit someone of his size, but he was willing to humor her.
Miranda kept her eyes on the road while he slipped it on.
He was surprised to find that it did fit over his arms. it was tight in the chest and biceps
but he was still able to close it.
“Will this be okay?” he asked.
“Perfect,” she said, smiling at him.
He felt another wave of some deep emotion and turned to look out the window instead of considering its source.
Beware mortals. They have nothing to lose.
But the general advice felt hollow in the face of this warm and fascinating mortal he had just saved from certain death.
***
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Tasha Black lives in a big old Victorian in a tiny college town. She loves reading anything she can get her hands on, writing sci fi & paranormal romance, and sipping pumpkin spice lattes.
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