Fae High Summer Hunt by Renee Michaels Read Free Book Online Page A

year under Titania’s thumb—Naeme’s life wouldn’t be worth living.
    “Don’t look so glum, lovey. You can stay. Think of all the fun we’ll have.” Valen lifted her up and spun her around.
    When Valen set her down on her feet, she griped, “Fun! That harpy will make my life hell. Besides, I am claimed. We can’t play without Baylor’s permission.”
    “He wouldn’t be so selfish.” Valen sent him an admonishing glower.
    “Wouldn’t I?” Baylor wrapped his arm around her waist and whisked her away from Valen. Naeme laughed at the distress on Valen’s face.
    One lover for an entire year? This was a first for her, something she had never considered. But then Baylor was no ordinary Fae.

Chapter Eight
     
     
     
    “Must you be so uncivilised?” Naeme glanced over her shoulder, a pang in her chest, as the dancing resumed. She yearned for a bit of gaiety. All the man thought about was his responsibilities. He was Fae, by the Great Orb’s sake, where was his sense of fun? How could she have imagined for one moment that she could spend any length of time with Baylor?
    “You haven’t seen uncivilised yet. Don’t you think it’s strange that Puck’s absent?”
    “So? He is a satyr. Their preferred activity is to roam the forests chasing every maiden they can lay hands on.”
    He dragged her along. Her annoyance at not being given the time to acknowledge the greetings of her friends, past suitors and a few former lovers was growing.
    “He’s one of Titania’s pets, he is rarely far from her side—odd bit of coincidence, isn’t it?”
    Naeme stumbled when his implication sank in. “You don’t believe he’d betray us? Her? Puck adores the Queen.” She shook her head emphatically. “I don’t believe it. He is harmless.”
    “Just because satyrs live to drink and fuck doesn’t mean they can’t be tempted. Especially if someone plants the idea in their head, offers them the right incentive and eggs them on to act.”
    Baylor guided her through an unfamiliar corridor. Her curiosity pricked, Naeme studied the area around her. She had never known that anywhere within Titania’s domain could be so bare.
    “Well, we understand the Frost Queen’s motives—she resents the jubilations every living creature feels when summer arrives, the time of rebirth and renewal. But why would the satyrs join forces with her?” She wiggled to dislodge the hand he’d planted at the base of her spine. She felt a relentless force sweep her forward.
    Baylor halted before a wooden panel, dull and dingy with grime. Didn’t the housecleaning spells work down here? He placed his hand on the wall. It rippled and thinned until it turned translucent. He pulled her over the threshold and the barrier solidified again.
    The room he’d all but yanked her into was spartan at best—no shades of pastel, neither silk nor satin to soften the room. The forest-green drapery and bedding with the dark, rich, burled wood should be dull as mud, but it intimated strength and purposefulness. Like Baylor.
    He shrugged and his armour disappeared, leaving him clad in a loincloth. Her eyes skimmed down his chest and settled on his groin. Well, maybe she could learn to live in the room if he walked around dressed like that all the time.
    “Tell me about this Panos you spoke of.” The quiet tone of his voice had her turning to face him. He studied her with a probing intensity that made her shift with unease.
    “What more is there to tell? He was the satyr I kept company with to while away the time.” She frowned. “He was at the battle but stood on the sidelines while his brothers fought.”
    “The satyrs fight as a collective. He should’ve been in the midst of the skirmish. You said he acted strangely when you took your leave of him—how exactly did he react?”
    “He said I was his, and he would keep me.” Repeating Panos’ declaration, Naeme heard the uncharacteristic possessiveness in the words. “What are you thinking,