King of the Wilds: Rosethorn Valley Fae #3 Page 7

  When at last they reached the box after jumping through all those hoops, Miranda had expected it to be filled with riches like diamonds, cash, and paper stocks.

  Instead, it contained only a few seemingly mundane items. A soft folded pink fabric that looked like a woman’s sweater covered the bottom of the box. On top of it were a tattered paperback book, a leather-bound journal, the pen he’d been seeking, and in the very back, like an afterthought, an irregular, palm-sized section of mirrored glass. The odd shape had caught her eye at the time, but she hadn’t thought anything more of it until she saw that exact same shape just a few minutes ago - missing from the huge mirror in the old mansion.

  Is my boss mixed up with some kind of fae monster?

  But she knew the real answer without having to think about it.

  Cullen Ward was a big man, bigger than any she had met before she encountered the fae kings. His shirt had even fit Bron.

  Miranda knew big men tended to do well in business. But Mr. Ward was more than big. He was larger than life.

  And it wasn’t just his body, it was his presence and the way he held employees and investors in his thrall. There was definitely something more to him.

  “Miranda,” Bron called from the porch.

  What am I supposed to do?

  Cullen Ward had hired her right out of high school. Because of him she had a fat bank account, a portfolio of company stock, a beautiful downtown condo, and a list of personal contacts that would make any CEO drool.

  Despite his reputation as a ruthless businessman, Mr. Ward had never been anything but kind to Miranda. And unlike other women she knew who had worked for powerful men like Ward, she had never been the victim of unwanted advances from him.

  Surely, she was mistaken about this.

  She slipped her phone out of her pocket and dashed off a quick email.

  Mr. Ward,

  When you have a moment, could we meet up in person? There’s something I need to ask you about.

  -Miranda

  “Miranda,” Bron called out again.

  She slipped her phone back in her pocket and waved to him.

  “I’m out here,” she called.

  His expression of relief gave her a pang of guilt.

  Should I have told them?

  But she didn’t know anything for sure, at least not yet. It would be wrong to throw her boss under the bus for no reason.

  Even if it meant keeping her friends in the dark.

  11

  Bron

  Bron jogged down into the rose garden to join Miranda.

  She smiled at him, but her smile was strange and sad.

  It had been a long day, and their work was not yet complete. She was probably just tired - mortals felt the need for sleep more keenly than his kind.

  But her worried expression told him there was something more.

  “Hi,” he said, feeling foolish as a boy in her presence.

  “Hi,” she replied, looking down.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she said. “I mean, it’s scary about the mirror.”

  She was simply frightened.

  He felt a wave of relief. This was something he could help her with. He was sure of it.

  “I will stay with you until that mirror is whole again,” he told her.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she told him. “I know you don’t like the Inn.”

  “You could stay with me instead,” he offered.

  “Where do you live?” she asked.

  “Wherever I want,” he chuckled.

  “Seriously?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

  “Like… camping?” Her expression of curiosity was adorable.

  He was so glad that she didn’t look sad or frightened anymore.

  “A little like camping,” he told her. “Want to give it a try? If you don’t like it, I’ll take you back to the Inn.”

  “Are you coming?” Dorian yelled from the parking area.

  “We’re going to stick around for a bit,” Bron called back. “We’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

  The others waved and Bron waved back.

  “You guys are so close,” Miranda observed. “It must be nice to have siblings.”

  Bron laughed. “Back in our own realm we were not always close.”

  He strode around the garden, looking for a spot that was wild enough to satisfy him but where she would feel at peace.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, following him.

  “We did not begin our lives as siblings,” he said. “We were born to different families, and only taken in to be raised together because of our abilities. It is our shared upbringing that makes us brothers, not some accident of blood.”

  “I get that,” she said, nodding. “I was adopted, too. And I’d never think of anyone else as my family. It always made me feel special to know that I was chosen.”

  That made sense. Maybe it was another reason he felt so close to her.

  “But our childhood was not for childish games,” he explained. “We were training to be powerful rulers. Our bonding was not encouraged. And at some point, we became truly independent, even turning our backs on each other in times of need, as we had been taught.”

  “Your parents didn’t want you to get along with your brothers?” She sounded horrified.

  “It’s different for my kind,” he said, shrugging. “But I am glad to be back among them. We are stronger together.”

  “Were you lonely,” she asked. “During your time apart?”

  “Oh no,” he smiled. “I had the forest.”

  “Is it different in your world?” she asked,

  “Yes,” he told her. “There the forest is deeper, richer, more lush. At least I think so.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I have been asleep for so long,” he said. “I’m not sure what it’s like now.”

  He tried not to think about this part, but it was frightening to wonder what had happened in the fae realm since he had been gone.

  “You were really just… asleep?” Miranda asked.

  “Easy compared to what Dorian endured, right?” Bron asked.

  “I don’t know,” Miranda said. “Was it?”

  Bron shrugged and continued his search of the grounds.

  It was hard closing your eyes in one time and waking up in another, especially when you were overly fond of natural things. Almost every plant and animal he had loved in Faerie was dead or dying by now.

  The forest was new after every spring, with new saplings and baby animals to learn of and cherish.

  But after this length of time, the forests of Faerie would be unrecognizable.

  “What are we looking for?” Miranda asked.

  “A good spot,” he said. “And I think this is it.”

  It was a corner of the rose garden that was sheltered on three sides by a stone retaining wall.

  “Yes,” he decided. “It’s perfect. Come sit with me.”

  She smiled and came to him, as if it would never occur to her not to do as he asked.

  They sat on the grassy floor of the garden and he called the roses to him.

  There was a rustling sound, like a breeze in the leaves, and then the branches began to move around them, forming a dome over their heads.

  Miranda gasped.

  “It’s alright,” Bron told her quietly. “They’re making a shelter for us.”

  A small rabbit, who had been hiding among the roses, hopped softly over to them and curled itself in one of his hands.

  “You’re okay too, rabbit,” Bron told it tenderly.

  It gazed up at him, nose twitching curiously.

  “He’s not afraid of you,” Miranda murmured.

  “He is one of my subjects,” Bron told her.

  Miranda smiled and reached her hand out slowly.

  She is ours, he told the creature with his mind.

  The bunny stilled and allowed
himself to be caressed by Miranda’s trembling fingers.

  The branches were weaving around them now, leaving Miranda and Bron in a snug little warren with a few small openings in the ceiling for moonlight to enter.

  The rabbit hopped out of his hands and disappeared before they were completely enclosed.

  “Wow,” Miranda said. “So you meant what you said. You really can stay wherever you like.”

  “So long as my subjects are near, yes,” he told her.

  He observed her in the near-darkness.

  Her heart rate was steady, and her eyes gleamed with interest.

  For all her fancy clothing and just-right hair, this woman was ready for adventure and new experiences.

  “You are incredible,” she told him. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  “Let me see your hand,” he heard himself say.

  She slowly raised it, and he placed his palm against hers.

  A shaft of moonlight illuminated their hands and allowed him to see the exact moment that inky vines appeared around their fingers, twining them together.

  Miranda met his gaze, and in her eyes, he saw his own feelings reflected - fear, joy, and surprise.

  But most of all, he saw her desire.

  It was easy to recognize. He had felt it himself since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her.

  “Bron,” she whispered.

  He pressed his lips to hers, tired of bucking his fate.

  She kissed him back, bravely, as she did everything else.

  A wave of lust washed over him, leaving him breathless.

  He cupped her cheek in his hand and begged himself to go slowly. This wasn’t some bawdy fae consort. This was a mortal woman, delicate in spite of her courage.

  But when she moaned against his mouth, he began to lose his resolve.

  He thumbed open her jaw and tasted her tongue as her arms went around his neck.

  Her taste was pure sweetness, and her body was soft against his, melting into him as he kissed her, trying to imbibe her.

  He could feel her desire as if it were his own.

  She was of his realm.

  He had not known it could be like this, her desire stoking his, the raw need echoing back and forth between them.

  This was why they had kept him from mortals. The feeling was intoxicating. He never wanted to do anything else again but kiss this mortal woman and feel her need for him electrify them both.

  But it wasn’t enough, he needed more, and he knew she did, too.

  He wrapped his arms around her and eased them both down to the soft grass. Miranda pressed herself closer to him, as if she wanted to meld her flesh to his.

  He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her clean scent and nibbling her sensitive skin.

  Miranda giggled, like a bubbling stream, and he drank in the sound.

  He moved lower, sliding his thumbs under the straps of her swimming garment. She wiggled, helping him remove the thing completely, so that she lay naked beneath him.

  He took in her pale, curving form for a moment, listening to the emotions that washed over her at once: desire, excitement, and embarrassment.

  “You are everything a king could wish for in his queen,” he told her gruffly, horrified that embarrassment could find its way into their joy.

  He could sense the blood rushing to her cheeks, feel her smiling before he saw it.

  She lifted her arms, urging him into her embrace.

  But he needed to taste every inch of her first.

  He lowered himself to her breasts, eager to hear the sounds she would make when he applied himself to her properly.

  For a moment, all of their differences ceased to matter, and he lost himself in the desire that united them.

  12

  Miranda

  Miranda nearly screamed with the pleasure of Bron’s mouth on her skin.

  Somehow, he knew before she did exactly what she needed, exactly what would make her shiver.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, an internal accountant was adding up the fact that a tattoo had just appeared around their fingers, that she was now inexorably connected with this wild man.

  But she just couldn’t bring herself to be upset about it.

  Not when he was pressing kisses to her belly and thighs, nudging her legs apart to get to her sex.

  “Miranda,” he moaned, and she could hear what was unsaid in every harmonic of his gorgeous voice.

  I love you.

  I need you.

  You are mine.

  She let him have his way, parting her thighs wantonly, angling her hips to make it easy for him to get what he wanted.

  The pleasure took her breath away.

  She closed her eyes and opened them again, seeing the stars winking between the branches of the rose briar he had built around them.

  Here was a man big enough to take anything he wanted - a fae king with the power to make the natural world bend to his will.

  Yet he tended to her as if she were precious.

  When he slipped a huge finger inside her, Miranda felt herself begin to fly apart.

  “Bron,” she whimpered.

  He fed on her frantically and she rode on the wings of a pleasure so acute she was afraid she would die.

  He groaned against her as he teased out every last twinge of ecstasy.

  Then he crawled up beside her and pulled her into his arms.

  “Bron,” she moaned again, as if she had forgotten every other word in the English language.

  “Good girl,” he murmured. “Sleep now.”

  “I need you,” she managed to whisper back.

  “You want me,” he chuckled. “For which I am grateful. But what you need now is rest, mortal. When you wake, we can talk about the rings around our fingers.”

  She wanted to protest, she really did.

  But once again, he seemed to read her mind, sliding his rough fingers through her hair so gently in just the perfect way to make it impossible for her to stay awake.

  13

  Miranda

  Miranda woke the next morning awash in happiness.

  Bron’s strong arms were still around her, and the scent of the garden at dawn was incredible - fragrant roses and a dewy earthiness that filled her senses.

  She stretched and Bron stretched, too.

  “Good morning, lass,” he murmured into her hair, sending shivers down her spine.

  “Good morning,” she whispered back.

  He twined his hand with hers and she looked down to the see the inky vines twisting around their ring fingers.

  A thousand worries crowded in the background, but at the front of her mind there was only joy and wonder.

  She had always been too wrapped up in work to do much dating. She’d thought it would take a miracle for her to find the time to get to know a guy.

  Now she was apparently going tattoo-steady with a massive hunky king.

  And he seemed like he was very pleased about it.

  The tattoos were only around their fingers though, they didn’t cover up to their wrists like the ones the others shared.

  “Ready for a swim?” he asked.

  She laughed. “Really?”

  “Sure,” he said. “The creek is right down the hill. We can get in a quick swim before we meet the others.”

  “I just have to get my stuff from the car first,” Miranda said.

  Bron lifted his hand away from hers and their little den opened up, vines unfurling and pulling away.

  She pulled on her swimsuit again first, realizing it wouldn’t look good for her to be caught buck naked in the garden. Then they walked together to her car, where Miranda grabbed her purse and shopping bag from yesterday, glad that she had a cosmetic bag and fresh clothing so that she could clean herself up a little.

  And so that the others wouldn’t know she’d slept over with Bron.

  But I have a tattoo on my finger.

  She sighed.

  That ship had sailed. A tattoo on th
e hand didn’t leave a lot of room for a relationship to start off in privacy. So much for keeping things quiet.

  But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wasn’t sure she wanted to keep things quiet.

  She had some things to figure out, but she felt peaceful in a way she never had before. That had to count for something.

  “Race you to the creek,” Bron offered, his eyes twinkling.

  She laughed and took off without agreeing. She needed every advantage in a race against a guy with legs as long as his.

  He must have been holding back because she reached the bank long before he did.

  “Nice,” he said, looking her appreciatively up and down.

  Sheesh, she’d probably been jiggling all over the place tearing downhill in her suit. Somehow, she kept forgetting to be self-conscious around the burly king.

  She grinned back at him and he offered her his hand to help her into the water.

  Once in, she removed her suit and washed it with her mini-hand sanitizer as Bron looked on, bemused.

  Then she washed her body as he watched with a heated expression.

  “Can I wash you too?” she offered shyly.

  But he shook his head.

  “Oh,” she said, feeling stupid.

  Had she misunderstood what happened between them?

  “You see those vines around your finger?” he asked her, as if reading her thoughts.

  She nodded.

  “Do you know what they mean?”

  “Sort of,” she said.

  “I want you to understand completely before they grow up over your hand and around your wrist,” he said gruffly.

  “So tell me,” she said.

  “Get dressed and I will,” he said.

  He stepped into the water, submerging and then coming up and shaking himself like her parents’ old Labrador used to do after a bath.

  She managed not to laugh.

  “Go on, go,” he said. “Or I’ll lose my resolve.”

  She climbed out and decided to air dry for a minute or two before getting dressed.