The Beastkeeper's Bride

9: A Period of Mourning

9: A Period of Mourning

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He had hoped to reach his lodgings before nightfall, but with the shortened hours of daylight available to them, and their slight detour through London at her insistence earlier, the sun had set and blanketed them in shadows while Blayne coaxed their mount gingerly through the undergrowth of the forest surrounding them.

There had been no other means for it but for Millie to ride awkwardly astride in front of him, and it was torture. Her delicately rounded bottom pressed against his thighs and though she kept her posture ramrod straight most of the time, oft she would jolt against his chest, and then as the hours stretched on, relaxed almost completely into him as his arms cocooned her in order to maintain his grasp on the reins.

Leaving the catacombs, he had explained to her that the oath was binding for faeborn, that the priestess would register their bonding under the human marriage law with the royal court, and that the process would last approximately a sennight, though most likely a fortnight, and it aligned with what Finnegan Holt had advised. For now, at least, they were proceeding accordingly and for the time being, her cousin's claim to her could be withheld.

Which is why Blayne was bringing her here, to his cottage. Far removed from the city, from any settlement, he could protect her far better within the confines of the forest than anywhere else.

And he'd die before allowing her to return to a guardian she clearly wanted nothing to do with.

The tide of feelings that barrelled through him because of the woman resting in his arms clenched his chest with mild panic- panic of losing her, of disappointing her, of everything- when clearly just that day she had been averse to being bound to him. The Gods had other plans for them, it seemed, but that didn't mean she couldn't choose and the thought filled him with a sense of unfamiliar dread. They were marked, bound together, but her feelings need not return his- there was simply something of significance uniting them.

And that smarted his pride. Potentially, he had a bride who did not want to be married to him, who was merely tied to him through the dictates of a sacred enchantment and her own need for a male to ensure her claim to her inheritance... there was very little that ensured she was bound to him of her own choosing and desire.

She rocked against him now, her hair constantly entangling in the scruff of his beard, tickling his nose and overwhelming him with her delicately feminine scent, and he was struggling to control a mount that was growing increasingly skittish as they traversed through the shadows.

Normally, his presence was given a wide, respectful berth when he made his way through the forests. Creatures avoided him for the most part, mindful of his governance and strictures that ensured their wellbeing and livelihood, and those that could not were warded off by various means, but his bride brought with her an insurmountable curiosity.

Creatures edged closer to them as the shadows encroached, growing bolder in their advance when night cloaked their presence entirely. Their safety was ensured- his silent flux of warning guaranteed that- but the proximity of the creatures made the horse skittish and hesitant. The more emboldened and precocious baras flitted back and forth across their path, scampering under the horse's hooves silently- small, lithe rodent-like creatures with luminescent flagellum and billowing ears. They were harmless, but a nuisance, and prey for bigger creatures.

At least with his concentration diverted, he wasn't distracted by the way Millie felt pressed against him, and his body wasn't responding to her nearness and her warmth as ardently as it had been.