Page 39 of Fae Mates

McVittie leaped down from the bed and trotted to the spiral staircase. “Right, then. If there’s nothing you can do for Pokeweed, you’d better leave.”

“Very well.” Healer Tarax bent to pick up his medicine bag.

“Sir?” I placed a hand on his arm. “If anybody asks—”

“I only met a talking cat, yes.” His eyes twinkled. “Although I’m delighted to find that rumors of your immolation were proven false.”

“Thanks,” I murmured.

He gave me a jaunty salute and headed for the stairs. “I’ll see myself out.”

McVittie bounded after him, saving me the trouble.

I turned back to Pokeweed, who hadn’t moved since I’d laid him out on the bed. How long would he sleep like that before the poison took effect? For his sake, I hope he wouldn’t wake.

His chest barely rose and fell, and I placed my hand back over his heart to feel the comfort of its beat. My spine slumped with defeat, and fatigue swept through my insides.

“I’m so sorry, Pokeweed,” I murmured. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

He continued to lie there on his back, unresponsive down to the unmoving brown-and-orange wings that stretched out beneath his back.

I curled up on Pokeweed’s side, placed my head on his broad shoulder and my arm around his waist, inhaling his earthy scent. If I held onto my friend, would that stop him from crumbling into dust? My fingertips sank into his soft fur, and his warmth radiated through my skin.

Beneath that fur was a hard, muscular chest with nipples that pebbled under my touch. It might have been my imagination, but Pokeweed’s heartbeat quickened. I moved my head to the center of his chest, where the sound echoed through my ear chamber.

Pokeweed’s abs were tight and covered in more of the same, soft fur. I ran my hand further down and traced my fingers across the waistband of his overalls.

A soft weight landed at my feet. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

I raised my head. “Huh?”

McVittie scowled. “You’re groping Pokeweed. I can see where your hand is going.”

Heat surged to my cheeks. I snatched my hand away, my heart clattering, my eyes wide. “I was just listening to his heart.”

“Oh?” The cat said with a sneer. “If I’d arrived a few minutes later, where would I have found your fingers?”

I sat up, and my gaze swept across Pokeweed’s unconscious form, stopping at where his white overalls stretched over a thick, slumbering penis with a prominent head. “That can’t be right. I would never—”

“Take Prince August something to eat,” said McVittie. “I’ve heard shock makes people act in peculiar ways, but touching a male on his deathbed is plain perverted.”

My hand swept over a bulging bicep. “McVittie…”

The cat hissed. “Clear your head, and come back with a bit more respect for the dying, eh?”

McVittie’s words hit like a slap, but they’d been well-deserved. I pulled away from Pokeweed’s large, warm body, pressed a kiss on his cheek, and hurried down the stairs.

The last person I wanted to see was Prince August. He’d probably heard the entire conversation, and after what I had done to him earlier, he would probably call me cock-hungry or something equally as insulting. Instead of giving him lunch, I walked to the downstairs wall and opened a door.

The scent of burned apples mingled with woodsmoke, and warm sunlight filtered in through the singed canopy of the huge apple tree. Stepping out into the parched earth, I glanced in the direction of the pond for signs of the soldiers but found nothing but a peaceful orchard.

Birds chirped overhead, signaling their return to a tree that was no longer burning. Maybe Pokeweed had put out the fire with his magic before falling into unconsciousness.

I walked around the perimeter of the thick trunk, my feet crunching the charred branches. It made sense that they wouldn’t return for Pokeweed. Whoever had been in command of them must have withdrawn the troops, satisfied with the success of his assassination.

“There she is,” said a distant female voice.

Flora and Mr. Whittaker approached from within the meadow of giant garlic flowers. As soon as I raised my hand, they picked up their pace and jogged through the orchard.