Captive of Wolves (Bound to the Fae #1) - Eva Chase Page 0,30

tell, the key ingredient in that tonic was the blood they were stealing from you.”

“Oh.” The word falling from my lips is utterly inadequate, but I don’t know what else to say. “Has anything else ever helped stop the curse?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing we’ve ever found or heard of.”

A chill spreads through my chest, eating up any heat that remained from August’s closeness. I’m the key to taming a savage sickness that has taken over the fae—the only cure they have. How could they ever consider letting me go?

And even if I manage to make an escape, what lengths will they go to in order to get me back?

9

Talia

On my way down the hall that evening, my reflection catches my eye again. I can’t help stopping and goggling as I have several times already at the magic August did with my hair.

And it really is magic in every sense of the word. No human dye job could ever have worked like this. Somehow the pink hue sank into my dark brown in a way that lets the natural variation come through without diminishing the vibrancy of the new color. It’s a deep, rich pink just a few shades shy of purple, and if I didn’t know that humans don’t grow hair like this, I’d believe it sprouted out of my head that way.

I still look gaunt, my skin sallow, but the vivid waves elevate those flaws from sickly to something luminous, almost as otherworldly as the fae men who brought me here. That’s pretty magical in itself. It makes me feel just a tiny bit more powerful than I did before, but a tiny bit matters a lot when you started with nothing.

As I head to my room upstairs, the sound of lilting music reaches my ears. Curious, I clomp along with my crutch to follow it—down the hall in the opposite direction, to where a narrow arched window overlooks the fields to the south.

Beyond the fields and the low, rolling hills beyond them in this direction, the sun has sunk below the distant forest, leaving only a ruddy glow in the dusky sky that’s a close match to my new hair. A brighter illumination lights the field at the outskirts of the cluster of stump-like houses. Amber orbs float like immense fireflies around rugs spread out on the grass amid platters of food and goblets of what from the general vibe must be wine.

Several men and women lounge on cushions scattered across the rugs. Others sway beneath the orbs in time with the tune played on a misshapen guitar by an elegant man with fingers that look a joint longer than they ought to be. Laughter rises up as loud as the music.

One couple is kissing, pressed up against a nearby tree. Another two sprawl between cushions at the edge of the festivities, the woman straddling the man in an embrace so intimate my face heats as I avert my gaze.

These must be members of the larger pack—the faeries who live in those houses. The flickering light falls on one familiar face: Whitt, the rumpled strands of his sun-kissed hair catching the glow as if they contain their own internal sun, his hand raised in a toast. He says something with a grin, and another wave of laughter carries through the gathering.

He’s entirely lit up with a radiant energy I don’t remember seeing when I’ve encountered him in the keep. It’s impossible not to notice how striking these fae men are in general, but watching Whitt right now, I forget how to breathe.

That’s how faeries trick mortals in the tales about them, isn’t it? Dazzle them with beauty and wonders so they don’t realize just how much the fae are stealing from them at the same time.

Still, I can’t tear my eyes away.

A creak of the floor makes me startle. I jerk around as fast as my warped foot allows, my body tensing defensively even though I don’t see how I could have been doing anything wrong.

That turns out to be the right reaction anyway. Kellan stands in the shadows of the hall, his lips curled into a smile so cruel you’d think someone cut it into his face with a blade. My fingers tighten around the stem of my crutch.

“Enjoying Whitt’s revels from afar, maggot meat?” he says. “That’s as close as you’ll ever get to them.”

I swallow hard. What does he want? “I’m fine staying in here,” I say in that pathetic whisper. I can’t seem