Page 97 of Storm

Eyes widening at his words, I spot a human male with red hair and dark eyes watching us from the other side of the dance floor, leaning against the inner bark walls of the Belle, as everyone has been affectionately calling the tavern. I want to push back and tell my husband that’s not true. Something stops me.

The red-haired man licks his lips, walking forward. I look around expectantly. He’s not coming this way. He’s not coming this way. A couple moves in his way, swaying to the music. I roughly exhale trapped air.

That was clos⁠—

He side steps another group of dancers, placing himself right in front of me, close enough to touch. It’s not that this man is unattractive; it’s something else—the mate bond—screaming at me. In Halo, no one ever showed interest in me. I was a dirty swine, tainted, and I belonged to the commander. I was untouchable.

Here, it appears there are different rules. I stiffen, Melek’s hand stopping instantly, sensing my alarm.

Ignoring the man in front of us, I spin in my husband’s arms.

“Hey.” I place my hands on his chest, caressing them along his borrowed shirt. “Let’s go back to the cottage.”

Tilting my head backwards, I spot the unmistakable glow of silver swirls swimming in a sea of grey. The twinkling lights strung above shimmer in the power I see there—magic that can kill with a touch.

Being the commander, he misses nothing, even on fairy wine. His stare shifts past me, hopefully only finding dancers. The change is instant. In his current state, he has no hope of seeing anything other than rage.

He pushes me behind him, baring his teeth at the human male. The move is beyond subtle. Everyone in our immediate surroundings backs away, fae and human alike, including the red-headed male, realising his mistake.

“I thought they were human. I thought they were human,” he rattles off to no one in particular.

“Fool. You don’t approach a fae mate’s pregnant wife, especially when he’s on fairy wine. Do you have a death wish?” It’s Ren. I sag in relief. This fae has saved my butt way too many times already. I really have to think of a way to thank him.

“Melek, I’m okay. Let’s go back home to Sunny.”

Focusing back on him, I find my husband has vacated the tree, the beast in his place seething, chest expanding in and out raggedly. Not again. I make to touch him, fingertips reaching somewhat apprehensively. He won’t hurt me. My husband just wants to keep me safe. However, I don’t end up making contact because, within seconds, he has caught my wrist in his punishing grasp.

“Mine.” It’s an animalistic roar, his claim of me.

Advancing, he takes me, bridal-style, holding me close to his chest. “Home.” He grunts into the crook of my neck, those metallic orbs dooming me.

There’s only one home to him, my mistake in using that word our undoing.

CHAPTER 30

THE JOURNEY BACK HOME

No one stopped us. It would’ve been futile. Melek took down five full-grown fae males in his heightened beastly state on our journey to the Willow. I understood their need to stay back. No one gets between mate bonds. We just need to fuck it out like before. However, this time is different. Home doesn’t mean the treehouse cottage where Sunny waits for us.

Now, he’s taken me through the dome out of the Willow, and I regret everything.

His beast is taking us back to Halo, our old home, my husband’s idea of a safe haven. And in his rage, he left our son.

Sunny. My light.

Pushing at his chest, the shock wears off, making way for despair. Kicking my legs, I scream at him to stop.

I scratch.

I cry.

I slap.

I plead…

Nothing stops his determination. My mate is a feral man on a mission to protect his mate, and as he runs us through the tree line separating the Halo lands from the Fairy Lands, I break down, each barrier we burst, my downfall, the time he spends running faster than our initial slow ride into the lands I’d dreamed so long of inhabiting.

I hate this man, and I love him with a violent passion. My heart is unable to rectify what that means, so, instead of trying to harm him, I grip onto him and sob. Heaving downpour after heaving downpour, I release the well of frustration inside.