My eyes flicked toward Nacht, my trusted katana, lying within easy reach. I could feel her call to me, the weight of her blade, the promise of power in my grip. In one swift, practiced movement, I grabbed her, the cool metal fitting into my hands like it had always been meant to be there, a natural extension of myself. Without sparing even a fraction of a second, I pushed aside the thought of the stew I had been cooking, my precious meal now forgotten in the corner of my mind. The fire crackled away, but it could burn itself into oblivion for all I cared now. My focus was entirely on the immediate danger standing just outside my treehouse.
I quickly shifted my weight, assuming a battle-ready stance. Every muscle in my body tensed, like a coiled spring, bracing for whatever threat this fae might throw my way. The air around me thickened, the smell of earth and pine clinging to my skin as I prepared for the worst. I wasn't about to let this fae male get the jump on me. I couldn't afford to hesitate, to second-guess myself. No, I had to move faster than him—much faster—if I was going to stand a chance.
Without a moment's pause, I rushed to the door and threw it open with a force that made it slam against the frame. My body moved like instinct itself—fluid, swift, and determined. In a single, powerful motion, I leaped from the safety of my treehouse, pushing off the wooden platform and hurtling toward the ground below. The wind whipped around me, the world a blur of motion, the earth rushing up faster than I had expected. But I was prepared. I had been alone for far too long, and I knew how to land.
Thank gods, I managed to hit the earth with barely a sound. My landing was as graceful as it was calculated, the impact softened by the years of training I had put myself through. I stood tall, every inch of me poised and ready for whatever was to come. My heart raced in my chest, adrenaline flooding my veins, but there was something else there too. The anticipation of seeing someone—anyone—after so many years of solitude stirred an old excitement within me. It made my pulse race, my body hum with a strange energy. But then came the anxiety. The fight. I had been alone for so long, and now, with this fae standing before me, the tension of confrontation felt raw and unfamiliar.
Part of me had missed the thrill of combat, the intensity of battle, the rush of testing my skills against an opponent. But part of me also wasn't sure how I would fare. It had been so long since I had fought alongside anyone, since I had fought at all. I had learned to protect myself, to survive in solitude, but this—this was different. This was real. This was a test I couldn't ignore.
And then, there he was. The fae male stood before me, tall and imposing, his presence filling the space like an overwhelming force. His dark, piercing eyes locked with mine, and in that moment, every instinct I had screamed at me to act. To be faster. To strike before he could. Without thinking, without even realizing what I was doing, I growled at him—low, deep, and feral. The sound echoed through the air, a primal warning. My teeth clenched, my body stiffening in defense as I realized what I had just done. What the hell was wrong with me?
The fae's voice sliced through the tension like a blade. It was smooth, rich, and resonant, sending ripples through my bones. There was something in the way it wrapped around my thoughts, both sensual and persuasive, as though he could control me with a single word. But there was something darker beneath it—a raw, savage undertone that made my skin crawl, making me want to step back, even as it simultaneously drew me in.
"Hello, little one," he said, a strange amusement flickering in his eyes. "Could you, please, tell me what the hell you're doing in this little treehouse, all alone and far away from civilization? And with a katana, no less!" His voice held power, like a dark melody that made my insides tighten. Every syllable felt like it was clawing at my nerves, trying to break through my composure. I hated it.
What the hell am I thinking? I had heard rumors, of course. Whispers about the fae's presence, their overwhelming charisma, their ability to influence with nothing more than a glance or a word. But standing here, facing this one, I could feel the truth of those stories. And gods, did I hate it.
"That's none of your business, fae!" I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. My chest tightened, but I didn't let him see how much his words had affected me. I couldn't. I wouldn't.
The fae's lips curled into a smile—a smirk, really—one that spoke of arrogance and superiority. I hated that smile, more than anything. It wasn't just that it was smug, it was knowing. It was like he could read me, like he had already figured me out. And that pissed me off more than I cared to admit.
"Well, you're in our territory," he said, his voice dripping with condescension, "so I do think this is my business." His eyes gleamed with an unsettling mixture of amusement and something else—something darker.
I wanted nothing more than to punch that smirk off his face. To wipe that arrogance away. But I knew better than to let my anger control me. Not now. Not when I needed my focus most.
"I don't care what you think," I growled, my voice thick with menace. "Just get away from me if you don't want to fight!"
But he just smirked wider, clearly unbothered by my threat. "I liked you," he said, his tone almost casual, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
What the hell? What did that even mean?
I barely managed to keep my confusion from showing on my face, but I didn't let it show. I wouldn't. Not now.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded again, my patience thinning with each passing second.
"That's my line, little witch," he said smoothly, his voice as cold and deliberate as a blade. His words struck with the precision of a dagger, cutting through the air.
A shiver ran down my spine at the way he said it—so deliberate, so knowing. But I refused to show any sign of weakness. Not in front of him.
"Oh, did you think I wouldn't notice?" he continued, his voice laced with amusement. "That's funny. At first, I was a little confused, because you don't smell like any witch I've ever met. For a second, I thought you might be from a different race. But no... you're a witch. Not just any witch, though. I can tell you're different. I still don't know why, but it doesn't change what you are."
His words sent a cold shiver down my spine. How had he figured that out so quickly? How did he know so much just from a scent?
"Cool, you're smart, and?" I retorted, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I wasn't going to let him see how much his words unnerved me. Not now. Not ever.
"I can smell the snake stew and vegetables," he continued, unaffected by my sarcasm. "Living here means you've had to eat a lot of snakes. And I think that explains something else. You've probably acquired their poison, haven't you?"
His words hit me like a physical blow. How the hell did he know? How had he picked up on something so subtle?
I resisted the urge to reach for a dagger made of ash, something that could take him down in an instant. But I couldn't. I couldn't risk it. That weapon wasn't just dangerous to him—it could kill me, too. And I wasn't ready to die. Not yet.
The air between us grew thick with tension, heavy with unspoken words, the knowledge that something much bigger was at play here. Despite every instinct telling me to stay alert, to be ready for a fight, I couldn't help but feel a strange pull toward him. A pull I hated, but couldn't escape.