Fae Courts Echoes of the Elderglen

She didn't look at him right away. Her gaze was fixed on the fire, watching the flames twist and curl, licking at the air in slow and mesmerizing movements. Its glow danced across her skin, casting a flickering light over her bare arms where they peeked out from the blanket. She was tired, but her mind was unsettled.

The weight of his presence beside her, the warmth of Ash so close was a tangible thing she could feel without even looking at him. She felt it first in the way the bedroll shifted beneath them both, in the rustle of the blanket as his heat seeped between them, closing the distance until there was no space at all. Solid and steady, his arm curled around her, his chest pressed to her back. Over the blanket, his arm drifted down to her waist and pulled her in against him with that same quiet certainty that they belonged like that. Like they had always belonged that way.

She let out a long exhale as she finally closed her eyes. It shouldn't have been so easy for her to settle into him without hesitation, without second-guessing the way her body relaxed against his, the way she fit perfectly against his chest. It should not have been so simple, but it felt like second nature, like she could never sleep anywhere else ever again. Like he had always been the one meant to hold her like this.

His voice was a quiet murmur, low and rough as he told her to sleep. We'll figure some things out in the morning. What was there to figure out? The bond wasn't going away. She didn't want it to! The pull between them wouldn't lessen. And whatever this...aching, burning, impossible thing growing between them was...she doubted it would ever fade.

But she only responded with a quiet, satisfied 'mmm' and drift into the kind of sleep she had never experienced. One where she wasn't alone.

---

It was the shivering that woke her. At first, she though it was her shivers, but then she realized it was him. The body wrapped so tightly around her, the warmth she had been stealing, the body she had melted into was shaking.

A small crease formed between her brows, her body still heavy with sleep as she stirred, shifting slightly to press herself closer. Gods...he is freezing. Vespera didn't think too hard. Moving on half-asleep instincts, she turned and threw the blanket over him, tucking in them both.

But that wasn't enough on its own. She settled back in where she rested against his chest and pulled his arms around her body, let his leg slide up over her hips where he could lock her in and steal some of that warmth back. She sighed quietly, flexing her fingers over his forearm that now lay draped across her torso and curved up with his palm resting over her heart.

And, as if it were just as natural as it had been before, just as easily, she let sleep take her again.

Asher had slept deeper than he had in centuries.

Even through the cold that had crept into his bones, seeping into every inch of him, he had not woken. He had felt her. The warmth of her body pressed so firmly against his, the soft weight of her in his arms. It had tethered him, lulled him into a place where the world outside of this—the fire, the night, the inevitable complications of what lay ahead—no longer mattered.

For once, he had not been on guard. He had not been alone.

He was still deep in sleep, but his body was awake in ways his mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

Instinct guided him, primal and unthinking. His fingers shifted where they rested against her waist, the tips grazing lazily up and down her side, tracing the dip of her ribs, the smooth plane of her stomach. The warmth of her skin against his palm was intoxicating. He pulled her closer in his sleep, pressing her more fully against him, the softest growl rumbling deep in his chest as he nuzzled into her. His lips found the crook of her neck, grazing against the delicate skin there, his breath warm as he exhaled slowly.

The scent of her surrounded him, tangled in his head like a drug he had no defense against. His fingers splayed over her stomach, stroking, claiming without thought, without hesitation. His body knew her, recognised her in a way that was older than conscious reasoning.

It was right.

And then he stirred, caught somewhere between waking and dreaming. The gentle chorus of birds seeped into his mind, their songs weaving through the morning air. The branches above rustled as the wind moved through them, and somewhere in the distance, water trickled over stone. His body ached in that slow, comfortable way that came from staying still too long, but he had never felt better.. He flexed his fingers against the warmth beneath them, felt the way she fit so perfectly against him, and—His body went still.

Bare skin.

His breath stalled in his throat. His fingers, still half-curled against her stomach, twitched. His pulse kicked against his ribs like a war drum as his mind finally caught up. His eyes snapped open. And he realised exactly how she was pressed against him.

Shit.

Vespera was still deep in sleep, her body reacting before her mind. A quiet sound- somewhere between a sigh and a moan- slipped past her lips as warmth curled around her, as fingers dragged lazy patterns across her skin, as lips brushed the sensitive spot in the crook of her neck. She shifted, pressing herself closer to him, instinct driving her movement, seeking warmth and that touch. His touch.

A soft hum rumbled in her throat, her muscles relaxing as his hands roamed and his fingers splayed over her stomach, tracing the curves and dips of her waist. A pleasant heat simmered beneath her skin, low and slow. But she didn't wake yet. Not fully.

She only curled further into him, like she belonged there. Like she had always belonged there. And he pulled her closer. The soft growl he let out sent shivers down her spine, though in her dreamy state it only made her sigh, lips parting slightly, breaths steady and slow.

She barely noticed when his fingers flexed against her skin. But she noticed when he stopped.

Something shifted.

Something small. It was the way his body stiffened, the way his breath faltered. But it was enough.

Her face scrunched up, brows furrowing faintly as her mind slowly began clawing at its way to consciousness. She was warm. Too warm. And there was something solid against her back. The pressure of an arm curled around her waist, fingers resting on the bare skin of her stomach. A breath against her neck.

Her lashes fluttered, a slow inhale filling her lungs as reality came crashing back in.

Vespera froze. Oh. Oh, shit. She was naked. Fully, completely naked. And Ash...was draped around her, holding her so close that there was no space left between them. Her cheeks burned instantly, breath hitching so subtly that it barely made a sound over the birds chirping and running water.

He hadn't moved. He hadn't pulled away. In fact, he seemed to have stilled completely. But he was awake. That realization slammed into her, and suddenly, she wasn't sure what to do. The silence between them stretched on too long and Vespera didn't move. She barely even breathed, her mind racing through every possible reaction. She could pretend to still be asleep. She could roll away and put space between them. That was, if her body even allowed her that. She could...

Shit.

His fingers were still splayed over her stomach. His breath still fanned lightly over her neck. And she felt everything. The slow, thundering pulse of his heart. The tightness in his muscles and the way he had gone completely and utterly still. He was panicking.

Vespera bit the inside of her cheek, barely able to contain her laughter. She shifted- just slightly, pressing back fully against him. Slowly, she turned her head, just enough to bring her lips close to his jaw. Close enough to brush her lips against him- soft, slow and teasing.

Her voice was low, thick with amusement as she greeted him. "Good morning, Ash."

Asher's mind snapped into focus the moment her lips brushed against his jaw. The soft warmth of them sent an electric jolt through him, his body tensing as he instinctively tightened his hold on her. The playful, teasing note in her voice hit him like a spark to dry tinder, setting everything inside him alight.

He was still frozen for a heartbeat, his body caught between the comfort of her closeness and the shock of the realisation—she's naked. His breath hitched slightly, the weight of it all crashing down on him. He’d woken up tangled in her, her body pressed so close to his that every inch of him was attuned to her. And the worst part? He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to pull away.

But her lips, so soft against his skin, made him shiver, and his mind scrambled for any semblance of control. Her voice made it worse, laced with that humour, that teasing tone he could never quite decipher.

Good morning, Ash.

Gods.

He swallowed hard, fighting the rush of heat that spread through his chest, his neck, his face. His fingers flexed over her waist before he forced himself to relax them, even though every muscle in him screamed to hold her tighter. But he couldn't—he wouldn't—rush this. Not now, not like this.

What the fuck do I do now?

Asher’s mind was spinning, but he knew one thing for certain: he was awake now. His heart hammered in his chest, and his mouth felt dry, so dry, but he managed to squeeze out a laugh. It was rough and unsteady, like the breath he’d been holding.

“Morning,” he muttered, his voice gravelly, still thick with the sleep he hadn’t quite shaken off. He couldn’t even look at her yet, afraid that if he did, he might just lose whatever tiny bit of control he had left. He shifted slightly, adjusting his position to give them a little more space, but his hands didn’t move from her waist. They stayed firmly in place, because as much as he told himself to pull away, he didn’t want to.

“You… really know how to wake a male up, don’t you?”

His voice was low, teasing her back, even if the growl of desire in it betrayed his attempt at lightheartedness. He could feel the heat of her against him, feel the warmth still seeping into his bones from where their bodies were pressed together.

He could only hope she didn’t notice the way his breath had become shallow, the way his heartbeat was suddenly thundering in his chest. Or the way his hands, though steady, now seemed to burn wherever they touched her skin.

You really know how to wake a male up, don't you?

Vespera bit her lip, but it did nothing to suppress the wicked grin curling at the edges of her mouth. Oh, she'd noticed. The way his body had gone rigid, tensing fingers on her waist, the way his breath hitched just ever so slightly at the brush of her lips along his jaw. He was panicking. And she loved it.

She didn't need to see his face to see that he was struggling. The growl in his voice, low and barely restrained, was enough to tell her the truth. Her grin widened, fingers twitching where they rested over his forearm, tracing lightly against his skin. And she let herself shift slightly, just enough that her hips pressed back into him.

A wicked cackle tore from her mouth before she could stop it. She couldn't help it. His suffering was just too delicious. "Oh gods!" Her gasp was nothing short of mockery, shoulders shaking with her laughter. "I'm so sorry, would you like me to move?" When his breaths had turned shallow and she could feel his heart against her back, she took it as her cue to leave. Before she pushed him too far.

Before she tested his limits and found that there were none. For her, she had meant it when she told him she wasn't ready. But harmless teasing wasn't off limits.

Still grinning like a Cheshire cat, she slipped from his hold, dragging the blanket along with her. "I'm glad I've been given a mate who cannot lie." She mused over her shoulder as she walked over to the tree where her clothes had been hanging. The morning air kissed her skin, but she barely felt it with the heat of his touch still lingering in her blood. "Otherwise, I think you'd be trying very hard to try and convince me that you weren't enjoying that."

It was certainly good for him that she was merciful on this day.

She gathered her clothes from the low branches, frowning as she pressed the fabric up to her nose. They were dry, at least, but gods they smelled of dirt, rain, and leaves. She wrinkled her nose in disappointment, but began dressing, pulling on her underclothes first before slipping into her pants.

"We will need to find a way to earn some coin," She noted, her voice muffled as she pulled her tunic over her head. "And we need to figure out where we are going." She bent over to fasten her boots before turning back to Ash, leaning against the tree. "I guess we are both exiles now." She was speaking her thoughts aloud.

She was just talking to talk, filling any space between them with her thoughts before she had a chance to think too hard about anything else. "Well," She tilted her head, absently toying with the hem of her tunic, looking more into the trees beyond than anything else. "We can't stay here forever. I mean...we could...I suppose. But we'd run out of food and you are no good with a bow and arrow. We'd probably starve if we had to hunt deer. I'd also rather not wake up covered in bugs every morning...so maybe finding an actual bed could be on the list of priorities."

Her eyes shifted to the trickling water. "But again, we need coin for all of that. And I didn't plan on leaving so suddenly, so I haven't brought any." She shoved her hands into her pockets. "I doubt you have any either unless that bag you brought with had been filled with coin." She had noticed that it was Rivain's bag early on, but didn't know how Ash ended up with it. "So, what...Should we steal some? I guess we are already criminals. Or we could gamble? Find some poor bastard to swindle?" She started pacing. "I could find work maybe...no..." Her expression shifted for a moment, darkening.

"Not to mention, we have to be careful about where we go. I'm sure you'll have a far easier time being accepted into whatever court we find ourselves in, but I'd rather not strung up for entertainment if we end up somewhere less accepting." She exhaled sharply, finally looking at him and stopping long enough to realize how much she was rambling. Her lips pressed together quickly after.

Asher sat up, running a hand through his hair with a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I think we both know that I was enjoying that, thank you," he growled, his voice rough with both restraint and reluctant amusement.

He stretched out his arms before resting his elbows on his knees, watching her with a lazy sort of interest as she rattled on. Every now and then, he tried to interject—opening his mouth once, then twice—but Vespera was already onto the next thought before he could get a word in. It was impressive, really, how much she could talk when she got going.

He chuckled under his breath, finally managing to wedge a sentence between hers. "I think this is the most you've spoken to me in your life."

A slow shake of his head accompanied the words as he pushed himself to his feet, rolling his shoulders with a stretch. His joints popped, muscles still stiff from the night before, but it was nothing compared to the heat still simmering in his blood. He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus.

"And yes. I’m an exile now. You are not." His brow quirked slightly as he met her gaze. "In that you can choose to return to your home whenever you wish."

The way he said it was careful, measured—like he already knew her answer but wanted to give her the option anyway. He let the thought settle between them before moving on, his voice carrying a bit more ease. "I have a little coin left, but not much.. And trust me, you'll be used for no one's entertainment."

His gaze darkened slightly, something dangerous flickering behind those sharp eyes. "You're my mate. Any self-respecting court will acknowledge that and treat you as they would me." A muscle in his jaw tightened, his fingers flexing at his sides. Not that he'd much experience of being treated particularly well. "And if they don't, well…" His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Then they won’t be a court for much longer."

He rubbed at the back of his neck, drawing a deep breath as his eyes wandered over her—taking in the way she fidgeted, the way she kept shifting from foot to foot like she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. He wandered over to her, reaching to take hold of her shoulders in effort to ground her, a soft smile in his eyes.

"Perhaps Fionn might take us in, for now at least," he mused, his tone lighter. "There is a war brewing between the Autumn and Summer courts, each side is gathering allies. I don't think it's a good time to be wandering in search of our new dream home."

His lips twitched slightly. "Unless, of course, you're planning on winning your coin by gambling and thievery. In which case, I’d rather be well-fed before you get us both thrown in a dungeon."

I think this is the most you've spoken to me in your life.

Vespera scoffed, arms crossed as she tilted her head at him. Her eyes still gleamed with that same mischief she had woken with. "I've never had anyone to talk to in my ninety four years, Ash. You can't blame me for needing to catch you up." It was definitely a sensitive topic, but her smirk widened, amused despite the fact.

But then he mentioned him leaving. And her? Going home. The amusement died on her face. Vespera rolled her shoulders, forcing herself to stay casual even though she knew what he was attempting- trying to give her away out from all of this, giving her a way to leave before it was too late for either of them.

"Not a chance, buddy." She said simply, lifting her chin and daring him to argue with her. "I'm here, am I not?" Of course her travel through the leylines was not exactly her choice. "You're not ridding yourself of me that easily, Ash. I don't belong there. I never did. You know that better than anyone." He looked, for a moment, like he might argue with her. But he had the sense to continue his own thoughts.

And it was true. The Elderglen had tolerated her existence, but had never welcomed her. No matter how hard she fought or how much she bled, she had always just been some sort of...vermin to them. Something other.

But now, she wasn't just an outsider. She was his. His mate.

Her hands were now clenched at her sides, but she exhaled and released the tension, rolling past the topic before it could settle even more deep than it had. She instead focused on his next words, the way his tone darkened when he spoke of any court that might disrespect her. Vespera, of course, arched a brow while her lips twitched. "You cannot burn down every court, Ash. There are only so many places we can run off to." She snorted. Men.

His next words hit her hard. Fionn. Her body went rigid, golden eyes snapping to his, wide with panic. Her skin blanched. "Fionn?" Of all the things he could have possibly suggested, that had not been one of the ones she expected. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Her fists opened up, fingers twitching at her sides, grasping for words.

"No."

She took a step back and shook her head, heart hammering against her ribs like a caged bird looking for its escape. "I- no. Absolutely not. He might take you in. But..." She shuddered at the memory of him..so changed after becoming the Queen's betrothed. Gone was the softness of the boy she'd loved. The boy who'd left her in the capable and caring hands of his friends.

Who were all dead now, courtesy of Ash. She supposed Fionn played a part in giving him those names, but Vespera was confident that it was to make his own brother happy rather than avenge whatever had happened to her. He was still changed.

"Are you sure we can't try...mortal realms? I'm sure you and I would blend easily in the Elven territories..." Her suggestion was foolish, even she knew that.

Asher exhaled, long and slow, as she chose to remain. It was inevitable, really. He had known she wouldn’t walk away, but it didn’t ease the gnawing concern in his gut. He needed control. This power wasn’t his, wasn’t meant for him, and every day it settled deeper into his bones, threading itself into the very fabric of him. He was dangerous. Temperamental. Of that, he had no illusions. But he feared hurting her, losing her more than anything..

"Watch me," he mused, a slow grin tugging at his lips as she scoffed at his threats of burning down every court.

But then her whole demeanor shifted. It wasn’t just the way she stiffened, the way her breath hitched, or the way her golden eyes went wide. It was the way he felt it—her panic slamming into him like a gust of icy wind, foreign yet inescapable.

His grin faded.

"Hey," he murmured, dropping a hand to her chest, pressing just over her heart. It was a desperate rhythm, hammering against her ribs. Too fast. His fingers curled slightly, pressing down, grounding. "We'll go somewhere else. Simple." A quiet promise.

He meant it. If Fionn wasn’t an option, then he wouldn’t push it. It had been Fionn's friends who had harmed her, tormented her, perhaps she merely wanted to escape that past, but he had a feeling there was more to it. He could see the ghosts in her eyes, shadows of something she wouldn’t say. And for now, he let it lie, if only to bring her smile back.

Asher huffed as she mentioned the mortal realms, his frown deepening. “I.. Maybe.." he rumbled uncertainly, his hand rising to let his fingertips thread into her hair. "At least let me find someone to help remove these runes first...” His grin was bitter, sharp-edged. “But then wherever you want to go, we'll go.”

For now, he needed time. Time to figure out what the hell to do next before this magic tore him apart from the inside.

“I can afford a room for a few nights,” he said, voice lower now. “There’s a town not too far from here. Let’s go there. Take a breath. Think.”

Asher hadn't realised how close they were until the urge hit him like a tidal wave. His hand still rested over her heart, feeling the frantic rhythm beneath his palm, and gods, he wanted to smooth away the panic with his lips instead. He wanted to press his forehead to hers, breathe her in, claim the space between them and make it his.

But he didn't.

His jaw tightened, his fingers twitching as if caught between pulling her closer and pushing himself away. This wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place. And if he kissed her now, he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to stop.

So instead, he exhaled sharply, dragging his hand away and shoving it through his hair. “Come on,” he muttered, his voice rougher than he intended. “Let’s get out of here.”

She found at his words, at the way his grin had twisted bitterly when he mentioned his runes. Remove them? Her gaze flickered down to his arm, tracing the dark ink scrawled over his skin, and up his neck, to one side of his face. Runes, woven into his flesh in a language she didn't know how to read, like a story of blood and power. She had never thought of Ash without them, had never thought of them as something to be rid of. To her, they were him. They were a part of the Ash that she had always known, from the one she'd spent decades clashing with, to the one she had spent weeks aching for.

She reached out before she could stop herself, fingers grazing one of the intricate symbols on his face. "I like them." She murmured, her voice quieter now, thoughtful. She let her fingers trace along the ink, following the lines as they curved downward with the shape of him. "They suit you."

Her words were simple, but genuine. She may not have understood them, but they were his history, his power. Why would he want to erase them?

Golden eyes lifted to his, searching, but she didn't push him for answers right now. Not when his hand still lingered over her racing heart, forcing her to ground herself in the moment, making it hard to breathe. She could feel the heat of him through the fabric of her tunic, feel the way her heart still hammered against his touch. Gods, the bond pulled at her, that invisible string tightening, tugging, urging her to close that little space that was left between them. For a moment, she considered leaning in. For a moment, she wanted to let it happen.

But then he pulled away, stepping back, and Vespera exhaled sharply. It was going to be impossible. This bond was going to kill her if it could strip her of her senses the moment he put a hand on her. But this was good. The distance made it easier to think. She nodded when he mentioned a town, relief washing over her at the thought of an actual bed and a roof- even if the idea of spending his money made her stomach twist uncomfortably. She had never been taken care of. Never had someone to offer her anything without expecting something in return.

But, again, she wouldn't argue for now. Not about this. They gathered what little they needed from his camp, packing in a comfortable silence, and before long, they were walking. The journey wasn't short, a little longer than Vespera would have considered 'not far from here', but it wasn't unbearable either. Ash was kind enough to keep his pace beside her, his presence solid and unshakeable.

The Elderglen had always been so dense with trees, where nature grew freely, where the air hummed with magic. But as they neared the town, something changed. Everything was open. Too open. The towering trees that had once cocooned her were gone, replaced by cobblestone paths and tightly packed buildings. The streets were lively, filled with fae moving in every direction. Voices carried over the noise of the market stalls, the clang of a blacksmith's hammer, the laughter of children darting between carts and citizens alike.

It was ...strange.

The Elderglen had never been like this. Everything there had been woven into nature, built into the trees themselves, where branches and roots entwine with homes and shops, magic pulsing through every stone, leaf, and breath of its people. Here? It was just a town. There were no great oaks humming with power. There was no feeling of something ancient watching. Strangely, she hadn't expected to feel so lonely without it.

As the entered busy streets, Vespera shifted her own hair, carefully adjusting it over the side of her face to hide her marred ear. Rage had shifted into embarrassment shortly after Ash had left her. Thankfully, the town seemed busy enough that no one paid her any mind, but she still felt exposed. Too aware of how different she was.

"So..." She cleared her throat quietly, keeping her voice light. "Where exactly are we going?" A teasing lilt curled into her words, though she was curious. And now that they were both exiles, they needed a plan.

Asher didn't move as her fingertips traced the runes etched into his skin, but he felt them like a brand. A soft, featherlight touch, yet it burned with her light. His mouth went dry as he watched her study them, her expression unreadable. He had always shoved away any questions he'd had about them, had tried his best to ignore their existence, ever a difficult subject. But for her he would break himself open piece by piece.

His hand rose from her chest, ascending the porcelain slope of her neck to let his thumb graze along the line of her jaw, his throat working as he swallowed. "They were carved into me when I had yet to conjure any magic of my own," he said at last, his voice lower, rougher. "They're darkness and shadow..." And anger. Always stoking the fire in his blood, always coiled around his mind like a serpent ready to strike, feeding him bitterness. His jaw tightened. "They are what make me capable of what I did back home... They do not suit me. They should not suit anyone."

He dropped his gaze then, stepping back, breaking the moment before it could turn into something else. Before the bond could sink its claws deeper into his chest. Without another word, he gathered his things, shaking off the ghost of her touch, though it lingered like an ember beneath his skin.

As they walked, her voice, , light and teasing despite everything, tugged his lips into a light smirk. He glanced down at her.

"Well, I could certainly use a bath," he pointed out, tugging at the edges of his shirt. The heavy rain had only done so much to wash away the blood and woodsmoke clinging to him, and a warm soak would be a welcome reprieve for his aching muscles and bones, each dull pain a reminder of his father and brother's fists and feet.

"So the bathhouse for starters." He flexed his fingers, eyeing the blackened stain of magic on each of his fingertips, doubting any amount of scrubbing would change that.

"Then a decent meal. You can take your pick." His gaze flickered to her, unreadable for a beat before he added, "And then a room with a more comfortable bed. There's an inn up on the cliffside overlooking the waterfall and the lake. We can go there." He nodded, as if settling the plan in stone, but truthfully, his mind was still tangled elsewhere.

"I should be able to swing two rooms for a couple of nights, in case you try violating me again." he mused.

"Yeah I agree, you could use a bath. You stink!" Vespera wrinkled her nose, casting him a glance as they walked. She let the words hang in the air, before she sniffed dramatically. Then, hesitating for only a moment, she inhaled her shirt near her own shoulder. Gods. It was a miracle Ash hadn't run away from her. A slow grimace twisted on her face. "I might not be much better after my wet clothes somehow managed to dry in the rain."

They had dried, yes. But they were stiff. And while she was grateful that they were no longer soaked, there was a musty odor clinging to her now, like the earth after rain. But far less pleasant. A proper bath and fresh clothes were going to be necessary.

She crossed her arms, scanning the marketplace's food stalls. It had been far too long since she'd had a proper meal. She'd been living off bits and scraps ever since Merenor passed away. Vespera hummed thoughtfully, tapping her fingers on her arm. "Something filling as we may not have another opportunity for food...but something not overpriced as we have very little coin." Her golden gaze drifted towards a small tavern with open windows in its kitchen. The scent of roasted meat, something garlicky, and fresh bread curled through the air. Her mouth watered instantly.

"Here?" She asked, already heading in its direction to read a sign. "Stew with barley, carrots, meat..." Her stomach grumbled. "And it looks cheap enough."

She circled back on Ash's suggestion. Two rooms. She scowled at the idea, mouth opening for a moment before she snorted in laughter. Two rooms?! She knew it was the sensible choice. But sensible was not exactly in the budget for their current situation.

"Two rooms is generous considering we've barely got enough coin to stay anywhere at all." She rolled her eyes. "And if you're so worried about what happened this morning, then maybe we should find a place with less of a view and some clothes instead." She huffed. "As I recall, you had your hands on me."

Asher scoffed, casting her a dry look. “Rich, coming from you.” He sniffed exaggeratedly in her direction and made a face.

But his amusement faded when she argued his suggestion of two rooms. He expected some pushback, but the way she rolled her eyes and laughed had his jaw tightening, his expression flattening into something unreadable. He opened his mouth, only for her to cut him off with that last remark, throwing his own actions back at him.

His fingers flexed at his sides. She wasn’t wrong. But before he could think too much about that, she suggested staying somewhere else, and he cut in quickly.

“—No.” His voice came sharper than intended, enough to make him clear his throat, easing some of the tension from his jaw. He exhaled through his nose, rubbing at the back of his neck. “No. There isn’t anywhere else, not unless we walk to the next town, and that’s at least another day away.”

A pause. Then a sigh. “One room, and some clothes, then.” He reasoned. He ignored the way his stomach clenched at the idea.

They stepped further into town, its beauty undeniable despite the restlessness stirring under his skin. This place was light, airy—the very essence of spring distilled into a town. Flowers tumbled from window boxes and baskets, spilling soft blues and lilacs into the streets. The cobblestones were smooth and sun-warmed beneath their feet, and the gentle breeze carried the sweet perfume of cherry and pear blossoms, their petals drifting lazily to the ground like confetti. The river, wide and clear, ran through the heart of the town, its surface kissed with dappled light from the trees that leaned over its banks.

At the town’s edge, the cliffs loomed high, cradling a waterfall so strikingly blue it could have been pulled from a dream. It cascaded down in shimmering ribbons, feeding the lake below, where wooden walkways stretched out over the water. The inn perched at the top of the cliffs, overlooking the whole of it.

Asher nodded at Vespera. “Let me worry about the coin.” His brow arched as if daring her to argue. He guided her into the little tavern, where the scent of rich, slow-cooked stew and freshly baked bread made his stomach twist with hunger.

When the food arrived, he wasted no time. He ate like a man half-starved, tearing into the bread, spooning up the stew with single-minded focus. He didn’t care that it was scalding hot; he devoured it, chasing each bite with gulps of cool ale.

Afterward, they found a small tailor’s shop where Vespera picked out fresh clothes. Asher leaned against the doorframe, watching the street while she sorted through options, his mind half elsewhere. He only stirred when they set off again, this time toward the bathhouse.

The moment he stepped into one of the steaming pools, a low groan of relief escaped him. Heat lapped at his skin, sinking deep into his muscles, washing away the ache of weeks spent sleeping on the ground and the beating that had followed. He ignored the looks from the other fae—some glancing at the dark runes curling over his body, others at the bruises painting his ribs and arms. He sank lower, eyes slipping shut.

"Fine." Vespera pursed her lips, staring at Ash for a long time when he made yet another declaration as to what their plans would be. Her jaw tensed, but she nodded. Just this once he could pay. Just until they figured out something more permanent.

More permanent than one room, a handful of clothes, and the promise that she'd let him handle it. That much she could allow, even if the weight of relying solely on him sat heavy in her chest. Though, her hesitation had far less to do with the coin, and far more to do with how they had woken up this morning. The memory sent heat curling up her spine, her stomach twisting as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

One room.

One bed.

With him.

Fuck.

Maybe she should have not argued in the first place. Maybe she should have let him spend all his coin on two rooms at opposite ends of an inn. Perhaps they could sleep in shifts. Or she could sleep on an armchair or the floor, even.

By the time they sat down to eat, her worry had been briefly overshadowed by her hunger. The stew was rich and hearty and everything she had dreamed it would be from the moment she smelled it wafting through the air. Her mouth still watered at the memory of the thick broth and the way the meat melted in her mouth. And that fresh bread that soaked up every last drop of the stew...gods. It left her warm and full in a way she hadn't felt in years.

Afterward, she picked through a tailor's shop, finding something practical. Her boots were fine, so she didn't need to replace them. She bartered with the tailor for a while until she had an armful of soft tunics, fitted breeches, underclothes, and a few other items for less than what Ash had given her to spend. Though, she had the oddest feeling that if she had asked him to buy her a gown of spun gold, he would have found a way.

It made her stomach turn again, but she didn't say anything.

She let him pay.

Then their second to last destination for the night: The bathhouse.

The warmth in the air forced her into relaxation the second they stepped inside, but the moment she realized the pools were not separated by males and females, her body tensed again. She was not shy, per se. But this was different. The scar on her back burned as she stripped down and wrapped a towel around herself. She left her hair down in long flaxen waves that covered her upper back and the pathetic excuse of an ear. Keep your head down. Get in. Don't make a scene.

As she descended into the water, the back of her neck prickled. Someone was watching her. Her golden eyes flickered to the side, catching the gaze of a male across from where she had sat beside Ash. The stranger's eyes hadn't strayed from her back, where her hair had moved away from. A chill ran through Vespera, not from heat but understanding what he had seen. Tainted. The jagged, permanent scar carved into her skin. Old and ugly. Gouged into her flesh.

Her fingers twitched under the water, resisting the urge to move her hair back and cover it. There was nothing to be done. Nothing she could change. Ash had seen to it that everyone involved had been punished. But that didn't erase it. Vespera met the strangers gaze, unblinking. It was he who looked away first.

Finally, she exhaled and sunk fully beneath the water, letting the heat soothe her muscles while her mind raced, still tangled.

When she resurfaced again, she glanced up at Ash. Despite everything, the bond, the strangeness of this town, the weight of their futures looming over, she felt herself relax slightly when she met his eyes. When she finally broke their silence, her voice was teasing but there was still some tension lingering behind it.

"You do, in fact, smell less like shit now."

Asher huffed a quiet laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. He still hadn't opened his eyes, resting his head back against the stone edge of the pool. If she hadn’t known better, she might’ve thought he had actually fallen asleep.

"High praise," he murmured, his voice as lazy as his posture. "Next thing I know, you'll be telling me I’m tolerable company."

One eye cracked open then, sharp and knowing, like he had caught something in her tone that she hadn't meant to reveal. It flicked over her, but true to his word—if he had even made such a promise—he didn’t let his gaze stray where it shouldn’t.

"But i'll try not to get ahead of myself."

Asher smirked, but he let the teasing drop after that, his gaze growing distant for a beat too long. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he closed his eyes again, rolling his shoulders with an exhale.

"You don't have to worry, you know," he said after a pause, quieter this time, his voice nearly lost beneath the gentle lap of water. "Not here."

Vespera forced out a laugh at Asher's joke, but it was hollow, a weak smile that barely reached her eyes. She wasn't sure if it was because of Ash's teasing or the way her skin still burned under the weight of the male's stare, despite him looking away. But Ash's voice drew her back, cutting through the unease curling in her stomach.

She turned her head slightly, her gaze settling on him, observing him, and...oh gods. She hadn't been prepared for the sight of him like this. He looked so at ease, reclining on the edge of the pool with steam curling around his bare shoulders, damp strands of his unkempt hair sticking to his forehead. The water flowed, just like the runes etched in his skin. So beautiful and so very Asher. She really loved them.

If she didn't know any better, and if she ignored the sharpness in his eyes or the tension that sometimes lingered in his jaw, she might have thought he was just another male relaxing in the baths. Unworried. Unburdened. Definitely not an exiled man.

For a moment, her own body relaxed, sinking further into the water and letting the heat loosen the tension coiling in her spine. Pooling deep in her core. She shut her eyes. Her stomach tightened. She shifted, moving backwards- not far, but just enough. He froze, tensing slightly under the weight of his gaze, even if he had kept it exactly where it should be. But there was a realization Vespera should have made much sooner.

He was naked.

She was naked.

And the bond between them still simmered beneath her skin, reaching out to him, her body still reacting to him in a way she didn't know if her mind yet agreed with. She was still figuring it out. She needed space. And yet, even as she moved away, his words followed her.

You don't have to worry you know. Not here.

She glanced at him again, risking her sanity. Her lips parted slightly. Something in her softened. Not here. Not this town. Not the bathhouse. Not this moment. There was no danger. No threats. Not here. She wanted to believe him. Maybe, just for now, she would. Just for this.

She let out a slow breath, watching the ripples spread through the water from where she had moved. Her fingers skimmed over the surface, her voice quiet but steady. "I know." It came out as a murmur, but she wasn't entirely sure if she had meant it. She wanted to.

"But just because I don't have to worry," she forced a smirk, "doesn't mean that I know how to stop."

Asher had been doing an admirable job of keeping his thoughts in check. Of keeping his eyes exactly where they should be. But he wasn’t blind. He was well aware of the way the steam curled around her, clinging to damp skin. Of the way the candlelight flickered over her bare shoulders and that beneath the surface of the water, she had not a shred of clothing. He was aware.

Thank the gods for the rising steam.

He had been content—was trying to be content—just soaking in the heat, letting it seep into his sore limbs. But then she shifted. Subtle, small. Moving away, not far, but enough. And something about it sent a prickle of unease through his spine.

His brow furrowed, and he tilted his head, his gaze steady.

He exhaled through his nose and dragged a hand down his face. "Shit." he murmured quietly. A pause, a flicker of hesitation before he frowned. "I can leave, if you... if that's—" He clenched his jaw, shook his head slightly.

He stood, the water waist high as he reached for his towel. He didn't want to leave, but if something about this, about him, made her uncomfortable— and that would kill him.

The second Ash moved to stand, Vespera felt something sharp twist in her chest- something that made her react before her brain could catch up. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, gripping firm but not forceful, her skin burning where it touched his. Her body was still submerged in the water, but her heart pounded against her ribs like it was trying to escape the bathhouse.

"Don't."

The word came out too quickly, too urgently. Way too desperate. Vespera swallowed, forcing her gaze to lock onto his. To keep her focus firmly on his face and not allow her eyes to wander further down- even if some horrible, shameful part of her wanted to.

Gods help her.

The heat in her face had nothing to do with the steaming water. She wasn't sure why she stopped him, only that the thought of him walking away made something in her ache. And she hated the feeling that whatever this was between them had been turning awkward.

Her fingers curled against his skin slightly.

"I don't want you to." It was softer than before, but no less certain. If he wanted to leave, if he wanted space, she wouldn't- couldn't- keep him here. But gods, she didn't want to let him go.

Asher stilled the second her fingers wrapped around his wrist, the warmth of her touch burning through his skin like a brand. Don’t.

His breath hitched. His pulse hammering in response to her. He had been ready—forcing himself to be ready—to leave if that’s what she needed. But his assumption had been wrong.

His throat bobbed as he slowly lowered himself back into the water, sinking until the heat licked at his shoulders once more. He didn’t pull away from her touch. He couldn’t.

His mossy eyes locked onto hers, searching, reading every flicker of emotion that passed through them. He felt the way her fingers curled around his wrist, the way her pulse thrummed just a little too fast against his skin.

Gods help him.

His voice was lower when he spoke, quieter, the weight of her words pressing against his ribs. "Alright." A beat. His fingers flexed beneath hers, the ghost of a touch, before he murmured, "I’ll stay."

But his gaze didn’t leave hers. He felt the shift between them, the simmering tension that neither of them had addressed. And yet, for all the heat between them, for all the ways his body reacted to her, he couldn't risk rushing this..

"If it's not me when what is it?" His brow creased slightly, concern threading into his tone. "What's bothering you? I can feel it." he frowned. It felt, invasive, and it was a sensation he wasn't sure he'd ever get used to.

Vespera exhaled the breath the hadn't realized she had been holding the moment that Ash sank down back into the water. Relief. It was relief that was settling into her bones, though she wasn't entirely sure why. She just...hadn't wanted him to go.

But that did not answer his question.

What's bothering you?

Her lips parted slightly, but she hesitated. How was she supposed to answer that when she wasn't even sure of it herself? There certainly was something off, a strange unease that settled, nameless. It wasn't just the way he had been staring at her, nor the way she had instinctively flinched when she noticed his gaze. It wasn't even just the overwhelming awareness of his presence or the bond humming between them, pressing against the edges of her thoughts like a whispered promise.

It was everything. It was the weight of what had changed. Her life had shifted and she wasn't sure if it was for the better. It was the way she still felt unsteady, like she was standing on ground that wasn't quite solid beneath her feet. But she was not going to say any of that.

Instead, she shifted slightly in the water and tilted her head back against the stone edge again, forcing a smirk to her lips. Change the subject. "You really think Fionn would let us stay?" She asked, arching a brow.

She needed to talk about something else, something that wasn't this tension, this discomfort that she didn't know how to describe. And Fionn was as good a topic as any.

Her fingers finally slipped from his wrist, though she lingered longer than she should have before drawing her arm back. "You went to visit him. What exactly happened on that trip?" She asked, quieter now. Uncertain. Because she certainly hadn't forgiven this new Fionn. Not for what his friends had done. Not for becoming whatever he was now. The last time she had seen him, he hadn't even felt like the same person she had once loved. The boy she had once trusted had vanished, leaving a stranger in his place.

And that was the male Ash thought they should seek shelter with? "And are we really that desperate?" She tried to joke.

Asher let out a slow, weary breath, his head tilting back against the stone edge of the bath. The heat soaked into his skin, easing the tension in his muscles, but it did little to touch the ache curling inside his chest. He let his eyes close, not because he was at ease, but because looking at her, at the concern she didn’t voice, made it worse, but he wouldn't push it.

"I don’t think he’d turn me away…" he said, voice rougher than he meant it to be. "Though he might insist I keep a fair distance." He snorted, a hollow, bitter thing, before cracking an eye open to glance at her.

He could tell she didn’t like talking about Fionn, didn’t trust him, and truth be told, Asher couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t sure if he trusted him either.

"Fionn likes to play games," he continued, stretching an arm along the edge of the pool. His fingers flexed briefly, like they still felt the ghost of her touch lingering against his wrist. "I wasn’t in the mood for games, but he taunted me all the same. I beat him, and his dogs arrested me." A scoff, mirthless. "Spent the night in another cell, but I’m growing used to being beaten and locked up by my brothers."

The words came too easily, too matter-of-fact, but as soon as he said them, his throat tightened. His jaw tensed. Gods, how many times had this happened now? How many times had his own family thrown him into a cage, forced him to his knees, reminded him of the weight of their judgment, their expectations? And every single time, they had made him less.

He swallowed against the fresh wave of pain, the bitter coil of something uglier beneath it. It was a terrible thing, knowing that the people meant to protect you were the same ones who had done the most harm.

Asher exhaled slowly, shaking his head as though it might rid him of the memories.

"We’re not that desperate," he said at last, cracking a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "If we can make our way elsewhere, we will. It’s just… the wise choice, given my situation." He let his head tilt slightly, watching the steam rise from the surface of the water. "My father will no doubt intend on dragging me back there to face my punishment…"

His jaw clenched. "And I don’t intend on letting him."

That last part came lower, softer. But there was steel in it. A resolve that had been beaten into him, hammered into his bones after every betrayal, every wound, every moment he had spent wondering if he would ever be free.

He would be. One way or another.

Vespera tilted her head slightly, watching Ash through the rising steam. Her fingers drummed absently at the stone edge she now leaned on, the only outward sign of a war in her mind. "Who exactly does Fionn want to keep a fair distance from...? You or me?" It was a silly question that seemed to be mostly answered by his following comment. Though her own tone had been quiet, a little distant. There was a hint of something sharp beneath it, something she wasn't sure that she should be feeling: offense. As if she needed to be kept away from Ash. As if she were some dangerous temptation his brother had feared would push the already reckless Adamou brother off the edge.

She snorted softly, shaking her head.

Fionn had always been cunning, scheming, always three steps ahead, but the mockery of it...the way Ash spoke of it now, so bitter, made her stomach twist. How much had changed between the brothers? She wanted to drown in the satisfaction knowing that Ash had beat the shit out of Fionn, but when he mentioned spending another night in a cell- his own brothers locking him away again- Vespera found herself looking anywhere but at him.

She, too, could still feel the stone walls pressing around her. Even though her memories were hazy, skewed, and blurred into something unrecognizable. She knew she had spent some time locked away. Though there were no cuffs on her wrists, they still burned of a magic. Flashes of eyes watching her, cold and unreadable, the first time she screamed. Then they were all gone, but the pain...it kept coming and coming.

Vespera didn't hate Ash for it. She could justify it. He- they had committed a crime. A crime that should have condemned them both and should have had much harsher consequences than a night or two-however long it had been- in a cell.

Her fingers curled slightly against the edge of the bath, but she forced her focus back onto Ash. He needed her focus. Still, she hesitated before speaking again.

"If it is what is best for you, I'll face him." She definitely didn't want to. Fionn had been a ghost, haunting her mind for years. Someone she had spent a lifetime missing, hating, mourning all at once. She didn't want to face what was left of him. Didn't want to feel what had been lost between them. Didn't want to see how he reacted when he found out that his own brother was mates with his former love- if he even did love her.

But for Ash? She exhaled and forced her golden eyes back onto his. "I won't let you go there alone. And I certainly will not allow your father or anyone else to harm you." It was a silly thought, a completely powerless girl trying to defend against magic. "You are my mate and I will not allow it."

Asher’s brow furrowed slightly, his confusion flickering across his face. "Me…" he started, then exhaled, shaking his head. "Well, both of us. If we go there, I won’t be letting you out of my sight." His voice was quieter now, weightier, though there was no masking the edge of bitterness as he added, "They’re not the friendliest toward anything they consider to be… lesser."

He didn’t look at her when he said it, but he knew she’d catch the meaning. She wasn’t lesser, not to him. But they would see her as something to manipulate, and Fionn would see her as something to use against him. He already had.

But when she continued, when her voice softened but didn’t waver, when she said she wouldn’t let him go there alone—when she said she wouldn’t allow anyone to harm him—he stilled.

Asher simply stared at her. It was… strange. No one had ever said that to him before. No one had ever meant it. People didn’t stand up for him. People didn’t care whether he got hurt. He got hurt often. It was part of his existence, a constant he had learned to endure in silence. He bore his bruises, his wounds, and his anger alone. And he had never expected anything different.

But she—

You are my mate.

His breath caught.

For a moment, all he could do was feel it. That single, undeniable truth settling into his bones like a brand, like something too big, too impossible, and yet…His heart hammered. His throat ached. And it was everything he had not to have her right now, to close the space between them, to drown in her the way he so badly wanted to.

His hand lifted, fingers brushing a strand of golden hair from her face. He didn’t know why he did it, only that he needed to, that he needed to touch her, even in the smallest way, before he lost himself entirely.

"My mate," he rumbled, voice lower, rougher than he meant it to be.

His fingers lingered before finally pulling away, curling into a fist as he fought to steady himself.

"Vess, I…" His frown deepened, as if he wasn’t sure what he was trying to say, but the distant sound of voices made him pause, leaving only the steady thrumming of his pulse in his ears. He sighed, rolling his shoulders before offering her a lopsided smirk, one that didn’t quite hide the tension still simmering beneath his skin.

"Let’s get out of here and get a drink."

Reluctantly, he pulled away from her, moving toward the steps of the pool. As he stood, he reached for his towel, wrapping it around his waist with a practiced ease. He didn’t look at her—not because he didn’t want to, but because if he did, he might not be able to stop himself.

But one thing was certain. He sure as fuck would make sure no other males dared to look at her, either.

Lesser.

Vespera flinched at that word. It wasn’t that it was new. No, gods knew she’d heard it hundreds of times. It had been whispered about her in the Elderglen, muttered behinds hands, and spat outright by the ones like Rivain who thought she didn’t belong. But hearing it now from Ash…after this revelation of what was between them…even if he hadn’t meant it in that way, even if it wasn’t his belief. It still twisted something in her chest.

Of course she understood. She wasn’t completely blind to the politics of the other courts. She knew power was worshipped. She knew she would always be seen as tainted. But it still stung.

Her lips pressed together and she was quiet. She just watched him, searched his face and read the flicker of something there before his expression closed off again. But then, he froze at the mention of ‘mate’ and her stomach dropped. Had she said something wrong? Whatever it was, he had stiffened like it was a truth he'd now decided was best to avoid. Instead, his jaw clenched, fingers curled up, as though he were physically restraining himself. She wished he hadn't retreated because she felt it too, that unspoken pull. That yearning.

Her breath shuddered slightly as his fingers brushed her hair aside with a touch so light, she barely felt it when it grazed her skin. And yet, it was everything. Something unspoken and sacred that made her ache in ways she didn't have words for yet. But then he was pulling away and that loss, that small delicate moment gone, felt like a slap. Before he could move, his expression shifted, a smirk settling on his face like armor.

A drink, then. A distraction. Vespera nodded, "Fine." A drink. A chance to breathe and pretend she didn't feel like a puppet for the gods being pulled by invisible strings, like every part of her wasn't screaming at her to close the distance he'd created.

Her eyes followed after him as he moved away and then stood, rising from the water, and -

Gods.

Vespera immediately regretted watching Ash get out of the bath. Not because of the way candlelight flickered across his scarred, bruised, and rune-marked skin. Not because of the way his muscles shifted as he moved, pure power and grace, sculpted by the hands of whatever gods had been so brilliant. Not even because of those damp strands of too-long white hair sticking against his sharp jaw. No...

It was everything else.

Oh gods.

Her brain was turning to mush.

Oh gods. Oh gods.

Her skin burned as her gaze dropped for half a second too long. Enough to take in more than she had anticipated.

Oh gods.

Her mouth went bone dry.

That was not what she had imagined. Not that she had been imagining plenty.

STOP LOOKING.

She immediately snapped her eyes back up- though it did not erase what might now be burned into her brain for all eternity. Vess swallowed hard, forcing her expression into something somewhat neutral. Casual. As if her entire world hadn't just shifted in the last three seconds. As if her bright red face hadn't made it clear that she had seen exactly what she had been torturing him with that very morning.

Her head whipped to the side, forcing out a cough that was absolutely not covering up her strangled noise of flustered horror. Why? Why did I look? Why had I been born. Why have the gods forsaken me like this? I am never going to recover. Ever.

"Towel. Now." Her voice came out higher than she'd intended, but she did not acknowledge the squeak of mortification. "And...turn around." Her face was on fire.

Asher had felt her eyes on him before he even turned. He hadn't needed to look to know that she was watching. That her gaze had lingered. That she had seen him in all his glory.

And gods, it was fucking delightful.

A slow smirk curled at the corner of his mouth, dimpling his cheek as he tightened the towel around his waist, not bothering to hide his amusement. "Oh?" he drawled, tilting his head as he watched her whip her gaze away like she had been burned. "Something wrong, Vess?"

She was red. Bright, beautiful crimson, from her cheeks down to the curve of her neck. And the way she choked on whatever words she had been about to say? It had him grinning outright.

"See something you like?" he teased, deliberately stepping a little closer to the edge of the pool where she still sat in the water. Looming just enough to remind her that yes, he knew exactly what had just happened. That he felt it too—the tension, the unspoken pull that had been crackling between them since the moment she'd said that word.

Mates.

He only watched her, taking in every single reaction as she sputtered, avoiding his gaze like her life depended on it. Vespera, who was normally sharp-tongued and composed, was flustered, and it was fucking adorable.

Turn around..

That did it. He barked out a short laugh, low and rough, the sound of it filling the humid air around them. "I will turn around. Because it's the decent thing to do.." he said, though he couldn't hide the grin in his voice as he threw her towel and turned around, running his hands through his wet hair, his ego practically glowing.

Oh, he was enjoying this. Probably a little too much. But how could he not when she was staring at the wall like it was the only thing keeping her from combusting on the spot?

"Hey Asher!" a female voice called across the bath house, followed by multiple giggles. Three females bathed, smiling as they stood and posed, wriggling their fingertips at him.

"Come join us!" another said.

Shit. His head shook, hard, his hand waving at them, hoping they'd take the hint. They didn't..

"Let us see to those bruises, poor baby."

Ash cleared his throat, his hand dragging down his face. Well this was awkward.

Hey Asher!

As Vespera stepped out of the water, her entire body went rigid. The heat of the bathhouse, warmth from steam, all vanished in an instant, replaced by something icy and sharp curling deep inside her. Those voices...sweet, honeyed voices. She tilted her head to see around Ash to confirm her suspicion. The voices belonged to some beautiful, perfect, scar-free, fully-fae females.

Naked females.

Naked females which knew Asher by name.

Her grip on the towel tightened. She hadn't even wrapped it around fully yet, and already she wanted to whip it across the room just to throw something.

Let us see to those bruises, poor baby.

Something in her snapped. She wasn't entirely sure just what it was. Maybe it was the way their soft, melodic laughter dripped with blatant desire. Maybe it was how easy and practiced their words were, like they'd done this before. With him. Taken care of him. Maybe it was the way Ash cleared his throat, as if this were not the first time he was summoned like some kind of fucking prince into the pool of naked, eager females.

Maybe it was just the bond, seething and snarling inside her, a wild thing ready to bare its teeth at any female that dared to look in his direction.

Her lip curled, but she bit her tongue before she could say something entirely vicious. Instead, she let out a sharp and humorless laugh. "Oh." She murmured. "How fucking adorable." Her nails dug into the fabric of the towel as she finally tied it around her torso in movements clipped and clearly aggressive. Her golden eyes burned, but she refused to look at him. Instead, her gaze flicked towards the three females in the bath. Gods, if looks could kill, they would be nothing but steam and echoes.

There was something inside her, deep down, that clawed. A dark and unfamiliar instinct, low and territorial, demanding her to stake her claim. To bare her smaller fangs. To snarl and snap and make them understand that he was hers. And she was his.

She inhaled sharply, forcing that feeling down.

But they were flawless. Every single one of them. No scars. No imperfections. No freckles from too much time in the sun. No marred skin from being a lesser being amongst the fae. Just soft, delicate, pristine beauty. The kind of beauty that males like Ash had probably been drenched in for centuries.

And yet, here she was.

His mate.

His flawed. Imperfect. Marred mate.

The one fate had chosen. She couldn't help but feel bad that he'd been given the short end of the stick.

But she had been chosen and that thought alone should have calmed her. But it didn't. It only made her angrier.

Vespera scoffed, tossing damp hair over her shoulder to cover her back before meeting Ash' gaze finally. The poor bastard had the audacity to look wildly uncomfortable. Good.

"Don't let me interrupt." She purred, sickly sweet and sharp-edged as nausea burned in her stomach. "Go on, Asher. Go. Let them see to your bruises." She flexed her fingers, curling them into a fist like she may have been a moment away from putting her fist through something. Gods. She wanted to. She had never been a jealous person before. Never had anyone to be jealous over. But this?

This hurt. And she hated that it did.

Before she could hurt herself or anyone else, she turned away from him and stormed off to go get dressed. She didn't expect him to follow. She didn't care.

That was a lie. She cared. Too much. Gods it was annoying.