Debbie Herbert - Bayou Shadow Protector

A sliver of jealousy clawed her heart. So Chulah stuck up for this woman? While she had been saving him from harm for years, and was viewed with mistrust. She could ease her man’s pain, too, with a little Fae enchantment. April discreetly blew out a breath and directed her essence toward Chulah.

The pain lines in his forehead eased and the tension in his shoulders relaxed. He sat up suddenly. “Hey, what are you doing?”

She gave him her most doe-eyed look and shrugged, palms out. “Do you see me holding a fairy wand?”

“No, but...” Confusion knotted his brow. “This...this wave of...calm washed over me.”

“Bet this is the best you’ve felt since last night.” His eyes turned cold at the mention, so she hurried to add, “Judging by the look on your face when you opened the door.”

He shut his eyes. “I’m not going to fight you over this. I do feel better.” He cocked one eye open. “But no more of that fairy stuff. Okay?”

“I’m not a fairy, but agreed.” April kicked off her shoes and hugged her knees to her chest, trying to contain her glee. He’d accepted her help! After the fact, without prior permission.

But still. Progress could be measured in the tiniest of increments. There was hope they could help each other with more important matters. Like Hoklonote.

But we might not have time for this, Steven’s words whispered in her ears. As if he were sitting beside her. April frowned, but couldn’t pick up any sign he was present. She must be paranoid; Steven couldn’t slip past the sage and salt any more than she could. Chulah didn’t sense something amiss either, or he wouldn’t be half-asleep in the chair.

Poor guy probably hadn’t slept all night.

“Maybe you should drink some coffee or something,” she suggested. She’d volunteer to make it for him, but had no clue how to perform domestic chores.

He picked up a can of soda and took a swig. “I’m fine.”

The man sure liked those drinks. She wondered what was in it. “Can I have a sip?” she asked impulsively.

Chulah handed her the soda he was drinking and she tilted the can back, downing its contents in a long swallow. Sharp bubbles scalded her tongue and throat. Disgusting. She crinkled her nose.

“Not your taste? I’ve got—”

Hiccup. Her body jerked upward.

“Aha! You rose again. Just like you did when you drank that brandy. Not a fairy, my ass.”

She was so, so sick of the lies between them. At least, in this, she could acquiesce. The man wasn’t stupid, and she refused to slowly enchant Chulah in order to force his cooperation. “Liquid seems to have that effect on me,” she admitted.

“It was you I saw in the woods.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Steven claims it’s some glitch in the glamour causing the levitation,” she continued, all business. As if this were a normal conversation. “Anyway, I came over because I thought we should have a little talk. One-on-one.” And not with his friends turning him against her.

Chulah scowled. “Of course you did. The better to influence me, right? I can’t believe a thing you say.”

“I’m telling the truth now. You know my deep, dark secret.” One of them, anyway.

“Yeah, right.” He stood and paced. “Bet you have a million secrets buried under that beautiful, innocent face.”

Beautiful. He thinks I’m beautiful. That was something she could grasp and hold on to while facing his disgust.

“I’m not considered particularly beautiful by the other Fae,” she said casually. “To them, I’m not even run-of-the-mill pretty. ‘A bit plain’ is how I’m usually described.”

Chulah snorted. “Impossible. Harder to believe than the fact that you aren’t human.”

“I’m half-human. On my father’s side,” she said quickly. As if this might make her appear more acceptable and less foreign.

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth to start with? I wouldn’t have dismissed your claim right off the bat. I’m a shadow hunter. I’ve fought supernatural beings most of my life. Hell, I have my own powers.”

“I’m well aware of your heightened senses. And your strength.” April’s eyes roved over his broad shoulders and chest, the lean, muscular biceps of his arms. Her throat went dry remembering how it felt to be wrapped in those solid arms.

He stared at her and she sighed. “I’m sorry. Try to see it from my point of view. I was instructed to tell as little as possible.”

“You’re doing a fine job,” he said in a clipped voice. “Try being less of a politician. You’ll get a lot further with me that way.”

“I will. Promise.” Lies of omission didn’t count. She kept her chin up and met his stare.

“Very well.” Chulah returned to his seat and eyed her wearily. “I tried to find you last night. Turns out I couldn’t even locate that tree where you first appeared. You know the one I’m talking about.”

April shifted her feet on the pine floor and smoothed her hands over her flowered peasant skirt, debating how much to reveal and how much to keep secret. A balance between telling enough to gain his trust and not saying so much that he could use any knowledge against them. “Sure, I know the tree. It’s sacred to us, just as you and your people have sacred spots in the woods.”

“Yes, but I bet you know exactly where our spots are and why they’re special to us.”

“True.” No sense lying about something that obvious. “But we can’t let humans get too close. You were able to see me in Fae form because I had dropped my guard on my way there.” Thinking about his hot kiss.

He didn’t need to know that either. Chulah was arrogant enough without further ammunition.

“Why are you so protective of this tree?”

“It’s sacred,” she said, skirting around the edge of his question. “As you discovered, we protect it mostly by moving it every night. It’s never in the exact same place twice.”

“Fascinating.” His eyes seared her. Was he talking about her or the tree?

The kiss was there between them as if it had happened seconds ago. Which reminded April—she still hadn’t conducted an experiment to see if all humans were electric when she touched them. Was it magical between any Fae and any human?

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Could barely breathe, for that matter. He felt the pull, too. He was still as an oak; only his eyes moved, lowering to her lips, and then lower, focused on the rise and fall of her breasts under the thin cotton shirt.

The silence grew as thick and hot as Alabama humidity in the midst of summer. A fever of longing burned, scorching her with desire. This was not the mischievous kissing game of a fairy lad. This was sensual human desire. All-consuming. All-engulfing.

Exactly what her mother must have felt with her human lover. The one she chose to live with over her own daughter. The dousing reminder cleared her brain. April tore her gaze from his face and stared at her hands in her lap.

Chulah stood abruptly and paced again, bare feet padding the wooden floor, scarcely making a sound. For such a large man, he had the stealth of a bobcat stalking prey. No doubt one of his many hunting skills honed over the years.

“You realize I looked like a fool last night in front of my friend. No tree, no fairy.”

Ah, the male pride was injured. “But if he’s truly your friend, that shouldn’t matter.”

He whirled around. “It matters. Where I come from, friendships and family are the foundation of who you are. We are loyal to each other. We are nothing without one another.”

April regarded his impassioned face. Chulah was what mattered to her. Exactly as he was. Unencumbered by his needy stepmother and half siblings and his fellow shadow hunters. You are important for just being you, she wanted to say. But that would only anger him. And possibly alienate him.