The Unicorn's Mare (Monsterly Yours #5) - S.J. Sanders Page 0,1

they would still be ignorant of the potential danger thanks to the misconceptions they harbor about my kind. Other fae races have not forgotten the way the humans have. They keep their females guarded and well away from my kind.

It amuses me that humans only recall that maidens were used to draw unicorns. They claim it’s because unicorns are drawn to their purity, funny enough. Yes, we love the sweet scent of a female unattached, but we really aren’t so discriminating. In truth, a female left alone for us to steal is too tempting for many unicorns, and that was what unicorn hunters in the past had capitalized on. In many ways, humanity’s ignorance makes the Fahal the perfect hunting ground.

It is very… encouraging.

The return of hope—and mingling among humans—is not without its frustrations, however. The human population is far larger than it had been since the last time our kind has walked among them. There are millions of different places where I might find my ahandral, and I am limited to mere days at a time during which I can search. It’s not made any easier by the fact that I feel vulnerable in this form when away from my well. My fetch-form—the form by which humans know my kind and the form by which we travel when away from our homes—is my preferred mode of travel. Unfortunately, it is one that is inconvenient for hunting a mate when so much human activity now takes place indoors.

And then there’s the pesky problem of females being drawn to us, which can hamper our search.

Like my current waitress.

I spot her heading directly for me and hold back a sigh. Brown hair bound in a messy knot on top of her head, blue eyes, and red lips stretched in a wide smile, she’s not unpleasant to look upon, but she is not my ahandral. This wouldn’t be a problem except that she has been to my table every five minutes exactly, far more frequently than she has entertained any others, and hinders my view of the café entrance.

She arrives at my tableside quickly, mostly because she walked right by several customers without seeing their attempts to wave her down, and I swallow a groan as she neatly blocks my view of the door.

“Do you need more coffee?” she asks, her voice soft and enticing.

I shake my head.

“No. I believe I’m done,” I murmur, and grimace at the effect my voice has on her.

She is practically ensnared already, her energy vibrating with the natural chords of a unicorn’s voice. It is something of a blessing and a curse that our voices have such effect on females. Perhaps inconvenience would be a better word. Either way, I’m not happy at the way she leans in closer as I speak. It would be all too easy to convince her to come outside alone with me if I were of the mind.

It is better for all concerned if I leave now. Besides, there’s only so long that I can sit in the café. Not only because the practice seems to be frowned on by humans, but I don’t want to waste too much of my day in one spot.

She gets a giddy sort of look as she produces my bill and sets it in front of me along with a scrap of paper with several numbers scrawled over it. I look at it blankly, trying to put together what it means.

“I get off in about an hour,” she whispers, but I fail to understand what that has to do with my bill or the numbers she’s thrust in front of me.

I decide to ignore the matter and abandon the scrap of paper at the edge of the table. She stares at it expectantly for a moment and then frowns when I fail to act on whatever code she was providing. Foregoing a sigh, I slide out of the chair and reach into my pocket, pulling out the exact change plus a few extra dollars for a tip.

Like the clothes that I fabricated from my magic, the money is also made of magic. I’ve been told that this is fraud, that it’s not real money. I do not see how. It will not disappear after I leave like the magic of some species—and thus the reason one should never make an exchange with a hobgoblin, who are notorious for such tricks. Something about numbers on the money that are placed on it when printing. I make sure