The Lost Elixir

Chapter Fourteen

Jarrah had seen Terryn in her traditional, Fae regalia more times than he could count.

He had the image of her practically memorized from how many times he'd seen her in their usual garments. The linens of ivory, as crystal as their wings, the leaf covers that hugged her slim body in elegance, and the bounds of leather that never failed in highlighting the light brown glaze to her skin. He'd grown used to the sight of her since he was old enough to speak; since he was old enough for his parents to want her as queen.

Terryn was pretty, and all things whimsical in their forest of enchantment.

But nothing could have prepared him for the lure of Rayne Vance in all of her leafy, lush glory.

He choked on air the moment she came out from behind the tree with her fingers fidgeting and clasping in front of her body. A nervous habit he saw her engage in from time to time, but he didn't know why she'd be so nervous. Especially when she looked the way she did in something so important to his people. Something part of his world rather than hers.

The leaves swirled and bent to the curve of her will, glossing over thick thighs and flared hips until they found their comfortable resting ground. Her curls, which were a shade lighter than their usual umber brown, captured the slivers of sunlight peeking through the branches of trees looming overhead, and wrapped wildly about her midsection; spilling well over bare shoulders and resting inches below her bosom.

She was curvier than some of the women back home. Her thighs were thicker, her bust more round, and her hips wide. And she was beautiful. So beautiful, he truly believed in his soul that she was the prettiest woman he'd ever seen in his life.

No. That should have been Terryn. It should be Terryn.

But his mind screamed for the sharp, electrifying pelts of Rayne. She was on the other end of his tunnel vision after all.

When Terryn first brought up her deal, he thought it was absurd. He'd never find another in those six months, and he had no draw to. In fact, he had every intention of waiting for her to commit to her end of the deal and getting married not long after.

But . . . after getting to know Rayne . . .

No, he couldn't think like that. Terryn would know how to be queen to the Fae. Rayne had a pack to attend to. It would never work.

Jarrah swallowed thickly, his palms suddenly clammy. She wrung her hands even tighter and stood there, waiting for him to say something. But words had long since failed him. And he was drowning in trying to get back to the surface of reality so he could just say something normal.

But why was normal so hard all of a sudden?

"Well, what do you think?" she demanded, partially anxious and partly amused. She glanced down at her makeshift dress expectantly. "Think I can pass for a Fae?"

"I think you look . . . " he trailed off before he could force the treacherous words off the tip of his tongue. She was everything he should be avoiding. Everything he should want to be avoiding. Beautiful, light, amusing, annoying, curious, alluring, all of the above.

He cleared his throat. "You could definitely pass for one of us. You're just missing your bow."

Rayne's gaze fell on the bow and arrow set by his feet, curious. "I'll definitely stick out like a sore thumb then if I pick up that thing. I don't know how to use those."

Jarrah's eyebrows rose on his forehead. "How do you usually hunt? Aside from the obvious four legged, howling at the moon wolf kind of way?"

She stuck her tongue out at him, but answered anyway. "Guns, knives, the usual."