Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Longing gripped Micah. But you aren’t a fae, are you? Not exactly. He shifted in the bed he’d constructed with twigs and fallen hanks of moss. He just...he wanted to belong to someone. To be welcomed. Maybe even admired.
What did such affection even feel like? And what was the beauty’s name? Would she like his offerings? There were many.
Anytime a troll or centaur neared the clearing, Micah departed the ring to end the threat. He collected supplies left by the dead, amassing a treasure trove of weapons, dried meats, clothing, maps, coins and jewels. All for her. Well, mostly for her. He’d kept some of the clothing for himself, exchanging a filthy, tattered tunic and ripped leathers for higher quality garments. Even a cloak to help him hide the scars left by the tree attack.
Would she like him?
As he gathered an array of fruit for breakfast, he stole glances at her. For the first time, much of the moss withered, baring her fully. Morning sunlight lent her golden skin an otherworldly glow. Silken locks of auburn hair gleamed. Curling black lashes cast spiky shadows over pinkened cheeks. Plump red lips with a bowed center and a stubborn chin added to her captivating allure.
The girl—Wait. Had that cherry mouth parted? Micah froze, every cell buzzing. Even the trees stilled, as if time suspended. Then...
A soft moan left her. The first sound she’d made since his arrival. Then she stretched her arms over her head.
He dropped the bundle in his arms, pink-and-red fruit thudding to the ground, rolling away. Startled by the noise, the girl jolted upright, auburn locks tumbling around her delicate shoulders. She blinked to orient herself.
His mind raced with a thousand thought fragments. Even more beautiful... jade eyes, brighter than the leaves...gown soon to tear apart at the seams...friend... Mine?
She turned, maneuvering her legs over the side of the bed. Standing. Stretching. As graceful as a swan he’d once spied in the Summer Court.
Micah stood in awe, utterly transfixed.
As if sensing him at last, she looked his way and gasped. Her mouth floundered open and closed, fright overtaking her expression.
He hurried to offer a reassurance. “I mean you no—”
A high-pierced scream burst from her. The most horrifying sound he’d ever heard. Sharp pains stabbed his brain, hot blood dripping from his ears. He slapped his palms over the blood-soaked shells, but it didn’t help.
The trees snapped to attention. In an instant, leaves wilted. Fruit dried up. The belua army lunged at him, and this time, they attacked to kill, stabbing and pummeling full force. Pain wracked him, each injury teaching him a new lesson in agony.
Deserve this. He’d foolishly shown favor to an enemy. Had thought to become friends with vessels of evil.
But the girl...
Will come back for her. The trees wouldn’t harm her. Even now, they kept her out of harm’s way. If she required freedom, Micah would free her. But first, he must survive.
He escaped the clearing, crawling out of range before collapsing in a beam of sunlight, eating dirt. Then the darkness came...
CHAPTER TWO
Fifty-three years closer to the present
FROM THE SHADOWED alley between two mud huts, Micah the Unwilling observed the eligible males lining up in the street to stand shoulder to shoulder. Most had cleaned their teeth and combed their hair. Some wore a freshly pressed tunic and their cleanest leathers. Others had come straight from hunting or tending a cibus garden. A tasteless but nutritious bulb that flourished underground, even in the worst of climates.
Marriage season had officially begun.
From the confines of his hooded cloak, he scanned the rest of the Forgotten Village. Home to roughly two hundred fae who had abandoned the oppressive regime of Astaria’s four courts to live freely in the Dusklands. A dangerous territory teeming with more and more belua. Hunting kept Micah busy.
Sunlight suffused the abysmal terrain, highlighting bits of ash carried on a mild wind. Two charred mountains loomed in the background. The village itself rested in a valley between rocky tundra and the wooded but dead Grimm Forest, with dwellings of various sizes scattered throughout.
Home.
Once, Micah had stood among the marriage hopefuls. After several decades of tracking and killing belua, he’d longed to experience the good life—family life. A wife to enjoy. Children to pamper. But the females of this settlement had preferred weak and cowardly mates over a chimera.
He didn’t have to wonder why; he’d heard how his mere presence made those around him wish to peel the flesh from their bodies. The force field, thanks to his dueling glamaras: an ability to madden beasts versus an ability to subdue them. But even still, he’d rallied from the rejection. A year to prove his worth? Challenge accepted.
He’d used the time to build an impenetrable shelter, convinced he was destined to be the first chimera in Astarian history to happily coexist with other fae. As big and strong as he was, he had believed some female could come to see value in him, despite his wealth of scars. Marks he’d earned at the hands of countless belua. Most especially the ones delivered by the trees that guarded little Red.