“Take a wild guess,” she responded, her words dripping with sarcasm.
He deserved that.
A slow smile spread across his face as he visualized her running through a meadow, her long, dark hair flowing in the breeze. She wore a white sundress where the sleeves gently glided off her shoulders. Her skin soaked in the sun, and fairy dust danced as she left a small trail of it behind.
“If I guess wrong, then I’m for sure going to be in the dog house,” he projected, not wanting to raise his voice. For years, he longed to communicate with someone.
Anyone.
He could hear conversations between humans as well as other paranormal creatures. He understood them, regardless of language. But he’d never been able to form words, either verbally or in his mind. The disconnect from all living things had been torture. There were moments Dayton thought he might go literally mad, especially in the last few moons. He’d pace along the property line, seeing her through thick fog. Hearing her thoughts of loneliness.
Or maybe it was sadness that tore through her heart.
He remembered the first time they made eye contact. He’d made himself known, and she froze right in the middle of the fog. He could poke his head through the fog if he’d wanted to and he’d known that.
But he didn’t want to frighten her away. He enjoyed looking at her and wished he could express how she eased the insanity that grew darker in his soul.
And he wanted to do the same for her.
He also remembered, as Norse, how being around her made him feel young again. It eased the centuries of pain his heart and soul had to endure.
“Are you going to stay in the bedroom? Or are you going to come out here and help me go through all this shit. We only have a few hours before your sister’s wrap dissolves and my brothers come barging in with their fangs out and guns loaded.”
He closed his eyes and hung on every word that slipped into his mind. Her voice reminded him of hot fudge coating a piece of angel food cake.
Not that he’d ever had the decadent desert, but he was sure he’d love it. Anything was better than the raw meat and garbage his wolf side had been surviving on his entire existence. How his fairy self had survived on nothing but air and blood, he couldn’t comprehend.
“Do we have food?” he asked.
“My brothers made sure the place was stocked full of dog food.”
He growled as he jumped to his feet. She was going to need her strong personality and her dry humor when they stepped from this cabin and the Royal Fairies bowed to their true King and Queen.
Oh boy. She would put him out to the dog house if she found out he could easily punch through his sister’s protective wrap. Having his fairy half live inside Coral, he knew exactly how strong her abilities were.
But they still didn’t hold a candle to his now that he was whole. If the world thought fairies were powerful, wait until they saw what a Wolfairy was capable of.
He stepped into the kitchen area. Other than the bedroom and bathroom, the cabin had an open layout. She sat at the kitchen table with a pair of black glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. An old, very large book was spread open in front of her. Her long fingers flipped the page as she gnawed on the end of a pencil.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” Her beauty humbled him, and it wasn’t her physical appearance that took hold of his soul. Her spirit wormed itself into the essence of his being. She was the accumulation of all the years he spent trapped between a young girl’s mind and the body of an oversized wolf.
She glanced up at him. Her pink tongue darted from her mouth, licking her plump lips. “You really don’t know? That’s shocking because you seem to know everything.”
The wooden legs on the chair screeched across the floor when he pulled it back. A bowl of fresh fruit taunted him. He’d never eaten anything as a human, and his mouth watered.
He pointed to the succulent food. “I know that’s an orange. I know we’re in Vermont. I know my sister’s names are Daphne, Isadore, and Coral, and I know Coral quite well after having lived inside her…oh, that’s how I know all this.” He snapped his fingers in the air. “Hang on. It’s coming to me.” He dug deep into all the wisdom and knowledge Norse had gathered during his adventures living inside his sister’s spirit. “Cheryl.” He slapped his hand on the table. “Your name is Cheryl.”
She cocked her head. “So it is.”
He reached out and tucked a piece of her silky hair behind her ear.
She jerked her head to the side and narrowed her stare. “Don’t do that.”
“Ever? Or just until you get used to the idea that we’re fated mates.”
She glared, shooting daggers at his face.
He held his hands in the air. “I’m sorry. I meant nothing by it.”
“All men say that.”
“I’m not all men,” he said, searching her dark eyes for a truth he prayed didn’t exist. While Norse existed in Coral, he’d seen the way some men treated their women and he’d wanted to kill them, but the only power he had was to protect Coral.
“Did someone hurt you?” He’d make it his mission in life to make that person pay for laying one single finger on his fated mate.
“No,” she said with a nasty bark.
“But someone tried,” he said between gritted teeth.
“Hey. You nearly killed me, so look who’s talking.”
Bile rose from the pit of his gut. He could never hurt a creature like Cheryl, especially since they were fated. But that wasn’t only the half of it. He cleared his throat. “Do you really believe that considering how I’ve treated you since I escaped?”
She sucked
