CHAPTER 1 - TOO TIGHT
“Too tight,” I wheeze as the race matron ties my bindings—a wicked web of straps. Despite her frail appearance from being five gajillion moons old, she’s as strong as a beefy minotaur.
She crushes my wings tighter against my back. “Is not.”
“Is. How am I expected to run if I can’t breathe properly?” Tighter. “Mamaw, if you break my wings, I’ll bite yours off.”
She slaps my bare ass hard enough to make me yelp. “You’ll be too busy running for that. Gentry Aspen has publicly stated his intentions.” Another few slight tugs at the bindings and she lets me go. “It’s a wonderful thing to be wanted by a gentry, though his friends will try to win you first.”
His competitive frenemies. “Yeah, I’m aware.” Mother was too happy to throw that information in my face.
“Then be aware of this.” Her tone is hard beyond her constant state of grumpiness. Worry, maybe? When I turn to look at her, she grips my chin. The foggy green color of her eyes turns to clear dark blue. “Run. Do not play with them or get overconfident, Ember. Run far and fast, cover your tracks, and hide until your favorite comes near or at the least, get a group to fight for you and see who’s the strongest mate. You deserve that much.”
The strongest mate. My mouth goes dry because I’m not ready for this. “Why do we do this again?”
Her round blue wings open and close with her inhale, and she lets my chin go so she can braid a wide chunk of my hair. “Tradition, as you know. Culture. Those things that make us who we are and keep us aware of our past. Just like the Equinox Festival and the Guardian Ceremony, we have the Springfest Sprint in the middle of our most blessed season.” Tugging a braid, she turns me to her and taps my nose. “You are of binding age and haven’t chosen, so you must be bound to the one who conquers you.”
“Unless they don’t conquer me.”
“If anyone can find her freedom, it’s you. I bet you know our territory better than Gentry Aspen.” That’s a compliment. Few get compared to the highest ranking position in the fae armies. “You’ve tested every boundary ward since you could flutter. And maybe you’ve been training, yes?” She smiles, damn well knowing I have, because I swear she uses some ancient magic to stick her eyes and ears into places they shouldn’t be.
I can’t lie, not that it matters in this case. So I remain quiet while Mamaw finishes my hair, then leads me to the preparation room with the other runners. Silks fly around like exploding dandelion fluff, draping over curves and bound wings. There are ten of us running and eight hunting. That’s good for me, if I can hide and Gentry Aspen gives up, which he won’t. It’s not that I don’t like him—he’s a good male—but I don’t like how he kisses. It’s wet. Like pressing my lips against a moss bed after a rainstorm. Slobber just squishes out, which is why three moons ago, I made an excuse after five minutes of making out and flew into the night. And now, according to him, I’m playing hard to get. Hopefully, he will accept my disappearing act because I won’t kiss soaked moss for the rest of my days. Someone here will love his power and gold more than his drowning lips, but that fae is not me.
“Who are you hoping for, Em?” Storm asks, accepting a dusting of moth glimmer from a hovering pixie. Her twin Raine appears ready to pass out, not only from the bindings. She’s breathing fast and frowning, fingers jittering over straps. Storm holds her other hand, always the protector.
Rounds of “Yeah, who?” come from the others.
I tap my pursed lips. Clay maybe, though that may be awkward after my fling with his sister, which was so, so good. That did not totally thrill him, so maybe not Clay, even if I’m curious about his lanky body and how he’s been too shy and sweet to pursue me for anything more than conversation, but is ready to claim one of us. Publicly. My head spins with thoughts of the hunters I’ve known all my life and I honestly can’t pick, because I don’t want any of them in the forever way. There’s so much to see, do, and discover on my own. What about the next time the autumn fae come to visit? I’ll be on the arm of my mate, not flirting and dancing with others. Unable to sneak off and fulfill fantasies with no pressure because my temporary lover would leave within a few days. They wouldn’t seek to tie me down—into a relationship.
I’m not ready for this. I shrug. “No one. I’m running for it.”
CHAPTER 2 - THE HUNTERS
I’ve had years to wrap my mind around this event, yet I can’t believe I’m here, getting ready to attempt to thwart my fate. The diaphanous blue silks I’m wrapped in cover my breasts and bindings on my top half. More are tied low on my hips, draping too long, mostly hiding the bareness between my legs and also my backside. It’s something I’d love to wear any day I’m not required to run from a pack of male fae who only need to exhale to uncover my girly goods and end my freedom. I have one veto and three hunters I’d use it on. I could plead for them not to take me, but Gentry Aspen wouldn’t listen—he’s really set on that playing-hard-to-get thing he believes I’m doing. Nor would Basil—he certainly didn’t listen to what would have made me come when we spent a few nights together. And then there’s Jasper, Gentry Aspen’s second-in-command, who wouldn’t heed my request to spite the other two. Those three are exactly the mates I want to avoid.
Guards herd us like fish down a narrow stream through the life tree’s lower corridor. At least I’m in front. I glance back at Quartz, who glares at me. Her hair is slightly disheveled from my tug a few moments ago.
I smile at her. “You’re right. This spot is fantastic; good luck to you too.”
She remains unamused.
As soon as we reach the exit, my wings twitch to flutter. I could be in the air in seconds. Instead, I’m on two feet—a massive disadvantage. Not only will I be slower, but I’ll have fewer hiding places and less ability to maneuver. The males will not. But it’s clear the Springfest Sprint isn’t meant to have winners.
I get it, unfortunately. We need children, and if we’re bound, we’re more likely to go into heat and produce the next generations to defend our borders. But still. Maybe if I win, I can do the unthinkable and ask to visit the summer court to meet others and then the autumn court after that, getting in both travel and ambassador-level meet and greets. I can make the excuse that it’s to study their traditions.
As the gathered crowd cheers and the hunters come into view, I realize my thoughts of escape are merely daydreams. The males are decorated with nature to make them stealthier, as well as a small cloth covering their dicks, many of which are lifted by erections, fully prepared to win their hunted mate as quickly as possible. Wings of all shapes and sizes are open, slowly moving in the gentle breeze. Mine twitch again, wishing to be as free.
Jasper points at me, skin painted with streaks of charcoal, making him into a beautiful shadow, perfect for hunting. I really wish he wasn’t such a pompous bore. He rumbles, “Mine.”
I roll my eyes at him while Gentry Aspen shoves his second’s hand down and sets his own fist over his heart, bowing his head as if his pledge should comfort me. He’s wearing gray feathers and pale ash flecks paint a mask on his face. He lifts his head and grins at me. My stomach twists as I think about all the slobber. The other males mumble, laugh, and stare down their intended prey, many of their gazes landing on me and then flitting over the crowd to find my mother on the throne. She gives me a nod, but her eyes remain cold. Still angry with me for not choosing the gentry when I had the chance, I see.
There’s a pop of magic behind me and I spin. An image of myself stands where Storm had been. She must want Gentry Aspen. It’s an impressive glamour—one she’s clearly been practicing. My braids look fabulous, but she didn’t quite get the mischief in my eyes right. I smile at her and I smile back. That makes me giggle. The males would know her scent the moment they’re on her, but maybe they’ll be too caught up to care. She’d make a better mate than I would, anyway.
Mother stands, her iridescent wings pointed high and wide. The excited crowd falls silent. “The Springfest Sprint shall commence in fifty flutters. Release the hunted.”
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2024 All Rights Reserved
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
