The Faceless Woman by Emma Hamm (i love reading .txt) 📕

personality, but the inner strength he sensed inside her. She was made of steel and vinegar and, somehow, he found that wildly appealing.

She called out from the water’s edge, “Is the offer of a bird still there?”

“You’re too late.” He crossed his arms behind his head and relaxed on the ground. “You insulted me. Now you can find your own bird.”

Muttered curses magnified by the water reached his ears. Bran grinned and let his eyes drift shut. If she wanted to do all the work, then she could. She’d admit her interest soon anyway. He’d make sure of it.

Aisling finished the final touches in her circle of runes with a flourish that was unnecessary but satisfying. If the Unseelie didn’t think she could perform magic as well as one of the Fae, then she would show him what a witch was capable of. And this was by far her best spell.

A circle of runes marked the dirt near the rushing water. It was a dangerous place to set it up but would keep the portal open for as long as possible. Streams negated magic, and that power would protect it from anyone tampering with her spell.

She dusted her hands off on the Unseelie’s stolen pants and nodded. “That’ll do.”

Lorcan stretched his paws on the ground, arching his back with his butt in the air. “It’s done?”

“As done as it’ll ever be. It won’t cut us in half at least.”

The Unseelie stirred from his spot in the shade. “Was that ever a worry?”

“It’s always a worry with a portal. If they close too early”—she slapped her hands together—“smooshed.”

“Are you trying to be unsettling?”

She arched her brow. “Are you unsettled?”

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. One side was adorably ruffled and sticking up in all directions. The other was darkened by the faint growth of fine, downy feathers.

She wanted to touch them. She curled her fingers into her palm as she told herself she would never do so. Touching him wasn’t an option. It didn’t matter the mere brush of his fingers had made her knees weak. She couldn’t let him know he plagued her thoughts.

Though it was entirely possible he already knew. Her cheeks heated with the memory of his husky voice asking her if she was blushing.

Damned man had no right to make her feel like this. He shouldn’t be able to tread where no man had before.

Aisling huffed out an angry breath and turned on her heel. “Lorcan, did you get that grouse?”

“I got a pheasant.”

“Close enough.” She held out her hand. “Give it here.”

Instead of jumping to place it in her hand like she expected, he laid it at her feet, wrinkled his nose, and left to sit by the Unseelie. “You’re being too bossy.”

“I’m trying to concentrate on opening the portal and keeping us all alive.”

“You’re showing off. And I don’t appreciate being treated like a familiar.”

She gaped at him, eyes wide. “You are a familiar.”

“No, I am a witch trapped in a cat’s body. That doesn’t make me an animal.” He flicked his tail. “Open the portal already, would you?”

Aisling angrily sighed and grabbed the pheasant from the ground. “What is with men?”

“Maybe if you were a little nicer, we would be, too!” Lorcan called out.

The Unseelie rolled to his feet. “I’d like to second that.”

“I am nice!”

He reached her and ran a hand down her shoulder as he passed. She twitched her arm away.

“No, witch, you aren’t.” He chuckled. “But I kind of like that about you.”

She didn’t want to ponder why those words made her stomach clench. He wasn’t all that attractive, not with those feathers on his face and that eye that never stopped moving. Sure, he was tall, lithe, pretty in a way that was almost feminine if he didn’t look like he might attack her at any moment. But none of that made him attractive.

A voice in her head laughed.

Aisling had never been able to lie to herself. There was always some bell in her head that rang loud and clear. The Unseelie was growing on her even though she didn’t want him to.

His laughter held the slightest hint of cruelty. He moved as if he were preventing himself from flying into a rage or backing her against the nearest tree. And he stared at her with a gaze so hot she could feel the flames again. Only this time, she didn’t mind the heat.

Foolish, distracting thoughts. She shook her head, tightened her grip on the pheasant’s neck, and marched toward the rune circle with renewed purpose. She’d build the walls around herself so tall he wouldn’t be able to break through. Fraternizing with a faerie never ended well. She needed to guard herself.

Aisling checked the runes one last time and then held out the bird. Thankfully, it was already dead. Lorcan knew how little she enjoyed killing an animal for magic. It was necessary, but always felt wrong.

“Open portal, hear my call. Open swift and smooth, let us not fall.”

She opened her hands and let the wound on the bird’s neck open. Blood splashed on the runes that began to glow a sickly red.

It wasn’t the same spell she’d used months ago. That one required a faerie to assist, and though the red-headed lass hadn’t realized it, Aisling knew she had faerie in her. This spell was for humans alone.

The ground fell out of her circle, and a thick substance took its place. It moved like water, but it wasn’t. Sticky and viscous, the magic that would transport them was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. The previous portal was blue and shimmered with faerie magic. This was blood red and entirely human.

Aisling chewed her lip and placed her hands on her hips. “There’s the portal.”

“That is the portal?”

She glanced over her shoulder at the Unseelie who stared at her creation dubiously. “Do you have a problem with it?”

“It hardly looks safe.”

“Portals aren’t safe. If you want safe, go find a faerie-created one.