Taken (Fae's Captive #5) - Lily Archer Page 0,3

for Beth has grown to fill my every waking moment, and I’ve had to put distance between us to keep my desires in check. I’ve been avoiding her since we’ve been at High Mountain, but my thoughts never let her go far. Nor do my dreams. I wake up with her wild scent in my nose and my hand beneath the sheets. It verges on obsession, which I can admit. But I must fight it off and wait for the one who is promised to me and only me.

“Gareth is thinking about the changeling again.” Valen sits on the hearth, his dark eyes alight with mischief.

“When did you get here?”

He shrugs. “Just came to get the news. A couple of the nobles are currently mauling each other in front of everyone at the mating banquet. Their bond snapped into place, and now they’re giving everyone a show.”

Thorn hops up and heads for the door. “I should go, um, supervise.” He disappears.

“Typical.” Branala rolls her eyes.

The tickle at the back of my mind grows, and my hand goes to the hilt of my sword.

“What is it?” Gray tenses, beer lingering in his shaggy beard. “Trouble?”

“I don’t know.”

“The king?” Ravella draws her blades.

“No.” I walk into the hall, some invisible force pulling me along.

“Gareth?”

I don’t respond, my feet guiding me through the corridors, guards standing at attention as I pass.

“Gareth, what in the Spires is going on?” Valen keeps close to my heels.

“I feel something.”

“What?” he asks as we turn the corner into the room of ceremonial armor.

“I don’t know. But it’s not good.”

“I thought we were about to get some downtime.” Ravella sighs as she appears beside me.

My steps quicken until I’m running through another corridor, the Gladion banners lifting from the wall as I pass so quickly I create a breeze. I turn, following a particular tingling sensation that seems to pull me forward until I stop in the map room. An empty wine glass sits on a map of Arin. I snatch it up and sniff, then lick the glass.

My mind doesn’t work. It splinters and falls to pieces as I sample that exquisite taste that belongs to my mate. Arin stops. Only my heartbeat remains, each thump a promise to the one my soul must have.

“Did you just lick a stranger’s glass?” Valen walks around the desk, his dark brows high.

She’s here. My mate. And I know her scent. I know it because I was surrounded by it for weeks on our trek across the summer realm, then to the Gray Mountains and back. It’s the scent I dream about, the changeling that I thought could never be mine. How wrong I was. Because she is mine, and I intend to claim her the moment I find her.

“Beth.” My voice isn’t a sound, but a dagger of need hurtling through the air toward the one who was made for me.

Ravella stows her blades with a smirk and takes Valen’s and Gray’s elbows. “Come on, let’s go feast at the banquet while Gareth sees to his mating business.”

“His mate?” Gray’s eyes widen.

“You heard me.” She pulls them away.

“What?” Valen sputters. “Where is she?”

I don’t have time to explain, not when this niggling sensation sets my teeth on edge. The glass still in my hand, I dart out the door and into a dark hallway that leads along the east side of the castle, most of the rooms used for formal affairs or diplomacy.

She was here not long ago. I stop and inhale, a growl ripping from me when I scent another on the air. A stranger. A male. With my mate. I draw my sword and continue down the hall until her scent begins to fade, but not before I catch something acrid that turns my stomach. Fear. She was afraid. And worse. Blood. Her blood.

Movement in a doorway to my right draws my eye, and I rush toward it, my blade drawn. I will slay any male who even thinks of harming her.

“Hey!” Phinelas holds his hands up, his eyes focused on my sword. “Gareth.”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Beth!”

“Oh.” He meets my gaze. “I didn’t realize you had a claim on her.”

“She’s mine.” I want to ram the blade through him until he tells me everything.

“Dial it back, Gareth.” He presses the sword between his palms. “I think you’ve caught the mating fever.”

“Where is she?” My voice is guttural, my anger like an inferno raging in my chest.

“I don’t know.” He glances down the hall. “I was supposed to meet