Page 96 of Storm

The tavern itself is constructed within the hollow of a giant tree, the oak so tall that I can’t make out where it stops ascending into the canopy. Within the bulging oval shape, there are tables and chairs, and a long serving bar where fae chatter excitedly while drinking a bubbly yellow liquid. On the other side of the curved bark wall is a group of six musicians banging on drums, strumming long strings, and whistling with their hands.

I have never seen such a sight in all my life. We had a piano at home. None of us ever played it. Sunny occasionally bashed at it when he was a toddler. On one occasion, one of the wives of the council members had played a haunting melody for a dinner party we held. The notes of the music moved through me in such a melancholy way that I couldn’t bring myself to touch the contraption. My soul was too tender for the emotions it produced.

This music isn’t haunting; it is thrilling. A blue-skinned woman takes to the floor before the musicians, her patchwork dress of varying shades of red showing off the pink of her hair. Her face lit up in laughter, she shakes her hips to the exhilarating sounds, fae and humans flocking around her, joining in on the fast steps.

I may be a witness, but seeing the joy and the hope on the faces of the people jumping and swaying to the music fills me with an unexpected feeling, an aliveness so profound I panic my body will suddenly take flight.

“What are you thinking, wife?” My husband heats me from his ever-watchful stance behind, his hands coming around my midsection.

I fiddle with the locket I’ve been wearing since I retrieved it from the backpack earlier in the day. Upon seeing it, Melek had remarked how pretty it was against the new colour of my eyes, and right away, I knew my secret locket was never a secret from him at all. I should’ve known. “I’m thinking that I’ve never felt as alive as I do in this moment.”

He hums appreciatively, the commander having taken to Willow life with suspicion and also fascination. Our journey into the fairy shopping district earlier in the day lit up his mind to all the new possibilities. Though my mate never spoke it aloud, I knew he was impressed, and with time, I hope he can see himself here too. Melek doesn’t need me telling him this is where we belong. He is fae. He surely feels it.

In a quiet moment attending a dress shop with Sera, I’d asked her what her thoughts were on his magic. She was apprehensive to overstep, saying each person’s magic is their own to discover. It is sacred. Not for others to pry. And when Melek is ready, his powers will show themselves again, and he may ask for help in wielding them.

She’d told me most children’s magic shows from puberty onwards, and their guardians help foster its growth. I am hopeful this means Sunny still has a chance for such an experience, if Melek is willing to open himself up to his fae side.

Beating around the bush, I finally told her how unsure I was about sharing the devastating effects of Melek’s magic in its first reincarnation. Sera had thought long and hard about her response, perusing many a flowing, gauzy dress, trying to find something that would fit my bump before giving me an answer, saying, “There’s never going to be a right time. If you choose to tell him about his power or not, he’ll still have to deal with the consequences of being gifted Diviner magic. It’s not an easy road the great mother has presented him.”

Breaking my daydream gawking, a blue liquid with flowers floating under the surface is thrust in my face. “Drink this,” Ren says.

“What is it?” I sniff at the contents, an overly sweet berry sugar hitting the back of my throat and making my mouth water.

“It’s called a sweet and sour. It’s safe for pregnant women. This”—he holds up the sparkling yellow liquid I see the majority of people sipping around us—“is fae wine. We make it with a yellow flower that only grows on our land. And it is for the brute behind you.”

“Is this safe to drink?” Melek grumbles, taking the concoction.

“It’s safe for all species to drink. However, effects are more pronounced on fae. And it’ll blow the socks off the whisky you’re always sipping.” Ren raises his voice over the music so Melek can hear him.

“What does that mean?”

“You might get a little tipsy, friend.” Ren walks into the fray with an offhand, “Don’t have too much fun, kids.”

Spinning in his arms, I raise my glass to him. “Come on, husband. Are you afraid of a little fun?”

His brows knit together. “I don’t think we should be playing fairy when there’s a bomb heading our way any day.” Melek lowers his voice, making sure not to alarm the people around us.

“Just tonight.” My lips purse, their best pout. The magic the fae wield will save us. He may not believe it, but I do. Nothing human-made can destroy something so pure. Not the Willow. If I have to, I’ll trust enough for the both of us. And that means we get this. Tonight, in the Fern Belle, being us. “Please. Just this once.”

He grasps my chin in his hand, bringing my face to his. “Don’t make that face.” I know I have him. “I’ll drink this damn wine as long as you agree to leave with me tomorrow.”

“Deal.” I bring his lips down to seal it with a soul-crushing kiss. If he lied for our “safety” once before, I can lie as well. I don’t care what he says. I’m not taking Sunny or Phoenix away from here. As I sink into him, holding my drink to the side, I resolve to convince him to stay. Hopefully, the fairy wine will help.

“Melek, stop.” I push his hand away from inching up my dress as we sway together on the dance floor, the musicians playing a slower song. The lights within the tree dim, flickering oranges and reds. Romantic.

He doesn’t bother using his words. My husband growls under his breath. The way the timbre of the sound lingers on the brush of his lips against my ear has me aching. He has accepted every glass of fairy wine thrust his way. Ren the culprit.

This new, relaxed Melek is different. I haven’t figured out if I like him more like this, or the brutish and grumpy versions, more handsy with fairy wine in his system.

And he’s not the only one. Sweeping the room, I find multiple fae and humans pressed into corners, kissing and grinding on each other. It’s erotic, a thick heaviness in the air. Melek moulds his front to my back, his punishing fingers once again reaching under my short skirt, courtesy of my dress shop visit with Sera, who disappeared within the throng of revellers ages ago. This time, I don’t stop his climb. I let him explore.

“You’re not wearing underwear.” His lips are on my ear, anguished at finding me bare.

“They don’t have any.” And I’m not mad about it. The quick, easy access is currently coming in handy. Fingers glide along the outer seam of my dripping core, my mate ignoring the one place I want him.

My hips involuntarily make circles, following his hand, his rock-hard cock pushing into me.

“I could make you come, right here on this dance floor, and no one would know,” he taunts.