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The only time the guild looked the other way was if two thieves took wedding vows. And that, my friends, would be worse than a shot to the head and surviving.
Finn’s smile was both sensual and biting. “I can think of several pleasant ways to punish your smart mouth, love.”
“Hand over the ring, Finny, or I’ll do more than bite your arm.” “Oh, love,” he crooned, bringing the smug tilt of his lips close to mine. “The way you seduce me.” “Seduce—” Then he kissed me.
“Fifteen belongings you have taken. Fifteen articles of magic not yours.” The witch wheezed a laugh. “And so you will only know fifteen feet of separation from the other.”
Those dark brown eyes of hers narrowed on me. They were a lovely shade, like the dirt of a freshly dug grave—mine, apparently.
I crawled over to where Taryn ate the forest floor, rolled her over, then pinned her hands above her head and her legs down with mine before she could charge off again. Lowering my face to hers, I gritted out, “Did you hit your head too hard, love?”
“You can kiss my arse, love.” I grinned. “There are worse ways to spend fifteen feet of freedom.” “Get. Off. Me,” she seethed.
“Fine.” My eyes snapped back to hers. “Eleven feet. Now get off!” I lowered my mouth closer to hers, delighted by the quick intake of her breath, and whispered, “Good girl.”
“Taryn, my sweet whiskered alley rat, the one my soul calls Rynnie, I can’t deny our hot, sparking chemistry a second longer.” Her face fell in a here-we-go look that threatened a laugh to break through my clearly irresistible charm. “You keep seducing me, lass, despite my protests—” A muscle jumped along her jaw “—and, so, to save my tarnished reputation, I have decided to accept your proposal.” Placing a hand to my heart, I theatrically whispered, “Aye, I’ll marry you.”
Freedom had never felt so out of reach, the idea a fool’s hope. In just two sentences, my debt became Finn’s debt and his debt became mine. Worse, for the next fortnight or longer, we couldn’t escape each other.
In the middle of her saying her vows back to me, I remembered a soul-thieving detail. An old fae law on marriage to mortals, one still upheld today, that instantly cursed my Seren-owned future. Even when our bind dissolved, the consequences of what I had done would not. She would walk away free. But me? I was in deep trouble.
“Oh, he will,” I playfully cut in. “He will scrub every inch of clothing they own to watch his wife strip bare.”
She scoffed. “Why do males make a girl’s virginity magical? The hubris to think he steals her magic from bedding her.”
My life had never held much value other than for the profit of others. Even now, my value was the price of Taryn’s freedom.
“The most important part of the legend, Taryn, wasn’t that she was a virgin. Any maid would do, if so.” He tilted my head, then lowered his mouth to almost brush against mine, whispering, “It was that she be beautiful. And, love,” he paused, his voice growing rough, “your beauty is now proven legendary.”
Cheating death made two people want to feel more alive, closer. A survivor’s bond, that was all. Nothing more. Right?
Even after our mate bond was dissolved, I would tear down mountains if another male kissed her.
“Crone!” I shouted to the trees. “Take me! I’ll make a handsome little skunk ornament!”
“Finn for typical murder eyes moods. Finny for those extra stabby feelings. And Finnan for when I’m ready to walk sixteen feet away and point a stick at your heart as you come flying back to me.” “That’s beautiful, love.”
“Steal a thousand kisses from my lips, Finnan. Then steal a thousand more.” My fingers traced along the edge of his ear to the point and he shuddered. “Make my heart your next catch.”
Taryn pointed at her face. “I always have murder eyes when I look at you, Finn Brannon.” “Oh love . . .” A sensual smile flirted across my lips. “The way you seduce me with your pining looks.”
“I only want you, Taryn Hunt.” He bowed, kissing my hand and, while lowered, his gaze slammed into mine. “Only you, love.”
“Even after our curse is broken, keep stealing kisses from my lips.” “Is this a bargain?” he asked me. “Yes, promise me, Finnan.”
I died to the melodic slow dance of his lips across mine and resurrected to the possessive rhythm he directed at every rapid beat of my thundering heart.
“You are not a burden to me, lass. Caring for you is an honor I take seriously.”
“I want to take care of you,” I whispered hoarsely. “I want to protect you. And I would even if I didn’t owe Corbie your bride price. I would even if we weren’t bound as mates. You owe me nothing, Taryn Hunt. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Not a mistake. Not a regret.” A furious tear crested her lashes and rolled down her cheek. “I can ignore my vows and fight our bond same as you. Damn the consequences.” I leaned my forehead against hers and furiously whispered, “But I. Don’t. Want. To.”
Here’s the lesson, mainlanders . . . don’t throw rocks at unnaturally pretty elven males in front of a witch’s cottage unless you’re willing to marry his arrogant, thieving arse. Bonus emotion: a willingness to eternally ache to be forever attached at his hip while wanting to punch that ridiculously beautiful face for making you fall for a life you can only have with him for a few stolen days. Additional perk: angry pining.
“Aye, you are mine, Taryn Brannon Ó Dair,” Finn said, a crack in his voice. “Mine. There is no future where this will never not be true for me. Even though I want you to find love and happiness, open your shop, and have all the children you desire. Even though I may never see you again after our curse is broken. Even though our marks will disappear. You will always be my wife, my mate.”
Friends, I didn’t know if I wanted to punch him in the now healed wound as a reminder of the grief he put me though or kiss him until I forgot my own name.
Mainlanders, gather around for one last lesson. Don’t be afraid to let him catch your heart, even if he’s an arrogant, mischievous, irritating sack of bargaining potatoes. Remind him of your everlasting devotion by promising to murder him with your pining looks. And, friends, most of all, swoon with every breath in your body. For there is nothing in this world or the next comparable to the way he’ll love you. Or the thrill of loving him back.
