King of the Wilds - Tasha Black Page 0,5
why were you in the woods?” she asked him.
“Some of my kind broke through the veil between our worlds, and are causing chaos on your side,” he told her. “My brothers woke me to help them recapture the monsters and put them back where they belong.”
“You were asleep?” Miranda asked.
“For centuries,” he explained. “One of my brothers gave these monsters succor. And all of us were punished.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” Miranda said, resting her cheek against his chest.
Something about this simple, trusting gesture moved him.
He lowered his face to inhale her scent.
She was enchanting, her floral perfume mixing with the more interesting coppery scent of sweat.
He found himself longing to bed her.
It had been a few centuries, and he was clearly in need of a consort. But this human would hardly do. He needed a more sturdy partner for what he had in mind. Not some mortal that couldn’t find her way out of a forest.
“So you and your brothers just come into the woods and look for monsters?” she asked after a moment.
“Yes,” he told her. “And I’m going to take you to them so we can decide what to do with you until the fachan is captured.”
“No, no,” she said dismissively. “I have to get home. I’ve got work to do and I need a shower and something to eat.”
“The fachan got close to you, too close,” he told her. “He has tasted your scent. You are no longer safe.”
She shivered in his arms and he cuddled her closer without thinking about it, brushing his lips across the top of her head.
“Oh, there’s my car,” she said happily.
He had brought her out to the lot where the workers had been parking.
A single carriage remained.
“I’ll ride with you,” he told her. “I can tell you where to go. I’m meeting them at a diner in the village of Tarker’s Hollow. It’s called the Barry White Diner. You can have food there and we can make a plan.”
“I know the Barry White Diner,” she told him. “I’m from Tarker’s Hollow. We used to go there all the time in high school.”
“Excellent,” he said. “It is decided then.”
He was very sure she would accompany him. No one who had once eaten at the marvelous Barry White Diner would ever turn down a return visit.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll go and meet your brothers. Pancakes actually sound really good right now. But I’m not agreeing to be under house arrest until you find the fachan. It’s just a meal and a conversation.”
“Of course,” he told her. “As you wish.”
He had to deposit her on the ground so that she could open the door to the carriage the humans simply called a car.
He was surprised to find how cold and empty his arms felt without her in them.
She dug for her keys and unlocked the car, hopping in the driver’s side. Bron got in as well, and she drove them carefully down the long, rutted track that led back to Rosethorn Valley proper.
“They’re not going to let you in without a shirt,” she said, glancing over at him.
He noticed how her eyes lingered on the tattoos that decorated his pectoral muscles. She was correct. He’d borrowed a shirt from his brother when he’d last visited.
“I have one of my boss’s shirts in the back,” she said, indicating a plastic bag on the rear seat.
Bron grabbed it and opened it up. He highly doubted that her boss’s shirt would fit someone of his size, but he was willing to humor her.
Miranda kept her eyes on the road while he slipped it on.
He was surprised to find that it did fit over his arms. It was tight in the chest and biceps, but he was still able to close it.
“Will this be okay?” he asked.
“Perfect,” she said, smiling at him.
He felt another wave of some deep emotion and turned to look out the window instead of considering its source.
Beware mortals. They have nothing to lose.
But the general advice felt hollow in the face of this warm and fascinating mortal he had just saved from certain death.
3
Miranda
Miranda stepped into the bright interior of the Barry White Diner and immediately was carried back in time to the sounds and smells of high school.
The orange Naugahyde booths were the same as always, as were the waitresses in their skirts and aprons. As a matter of fact, Miranda recognized a few faces. The staff here was loyal. They must be doing something right.
She could taste bacon, eggs, and