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

her soul through his raven eye, and it was as dark as his.

“Bran,” she whispered.

And he was lost.

He touched her chin, tilted her head up. His lungs strained for air, his muscles clenched in anticipation, and his thoughts short-circuited until all he could do was follow his instincts.

Bran leaned down, touched his lips to hers, and the foundation of his world cracked open.

She tasted of woodsmoke and dangerous dreams. Soft and yielding, she pressed her hands against his chest and fisted his shirt. A soft sound vibrated her throat. A sound of need, desire, and a longing so desperate it shattered his heart.

He drew her close, stroking a hand down her ribs while cupping her head with the other. The dark tangles of her hair caught on his fingers, but he didn’t care.

In that moment, he felt every inch of his immortal soul. A thousand and one kisses had led him to the velvet touch of her lips, the stinging bite of her teeth, and the century old taste of magic dipped in moonlight.

She destroyed him with each murmured encouragement, every squeeze of her fingers and nip of her teeth.

Bran broke away only when they were both breathless but pressed his forehead against hers because he couldn’t bear the distance. Catching his breath, his rubbed his nose against hers. “Witch, if I’d known you kissed like that I would have insisted upon it much sooner.”

“You’re a man of many talents,” she replied. “I assumed correctly that you were practiced in this art.”

“I wouldn’t say practiced.”

“You’ve done it before.”

“You haven’t?” He pulled away to stare incredulously down at her. “You lie.”

She shook her head, and he desperately wished to see her face. “No. A witch has little opportunities for such whimsy.”

“Whimsy?”

“They tried to burn me, Bran. Do you really think any of them wanted to kiss me beforehand?”

He hadn’t thought. “They can see what you look like. Surely one of them had some sense?”

Aisling stepped back from him, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her face to the side. He didn’t like that. He knew what that meant. She was pulling away.

“No, no you don’t get to do that.” He leapt forward, forcing her to look at him. “I didn’t say anything wrong. That’s a compliment.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Sometimes it’s better to talk about things. Look at me, Aisling.”

“I am looking at you.”

He heard the heartbreak in her voice, understood it was because he couldn’t tell, but the raven eye imbedded in his skull said otherwise.

“Look me in the eyes, Aisling.” When she didn’t move, he swore. “I didn’t take you for a coward.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

She lifted her head, but he could tell it was to look over his shoulder. He sighed and shook his head.

The woman had more walls around herself than most. She didn’t want him to know her, to really see who she was, and that was the saddest part of their story. People might sing of them in ages to come.

They’d tell the tale of how an Unseelie prince pursued an impossible woman across the entirety of the Otherworld. And how her heart was locked up so tight that no key could ever open it.

“Aisling,” he began.

“Six,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Six for hell. You said the Duchess lives in your version of the Underworld?” She pointed over his shoulder. “I think that’s where we’re supposed to go.”

He turned to follow the direction of her finger, gaping at the large mountain that had appeared in front of them. It was unusual for mountains to appear anywhere in the Otherworld, let alone one so large. In the very center, a cave opened its mouth like that of a great beast of old.

“Where did you hear that rhyme?” he asked.

“In a dream.”

“Who was in the dream?”

She shook her head. “Let’s get going. I don’t want to waste any more time trying to find this Duchess.”

“Aisling.” He reached out and grabbed her arm. “There are many creatures in these woods, some of which are not friendly. Who told you that rhyme?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, and her words trembled. “Someone who frightened me, but who I believe we can trust.”

“How does it go?”

She repeated the child’s tale word for word until the last line.

“Seven for the Raven King and the toll of a bell.”

He rocked back a step, each word striking his chest like a physical blow. She reached as if to grab him, only hesitating when he flinched away from her touch.

“What did he look like?” he rasped. “Tell me now, please.”

“As if he were made of stone and something more. Great antlers rose from his head, and gristle fell from them as he shed the velvet.” She shivered. “I have never heard of such a beast.”

“Neither have I.” And he felt immense relief in knowing she had met an Otherworld creature, not the Raven King himself.

There was still time. His plan could still work.

“Perhaps we shall trust this creature,” he said and cleared his throat. “The cave, you said?”

“I’m willing to try if you are.”

“Lead the way, witch.”

“Aisling,” she corrected. “Have you seen Lorcan?”

“He makes his own way.”

“I’m not leaving without him.”

“You say that every time, and yet we always move forward. The witch knows how to find us. Uncanny if you ask me.”

Her hands fisted. “I didn’t ask, and I won’t leave without him.”

The brush rustled behind them, and a furry body burst free with a yowl of disapproval. “You were leaving without me!”

Aisling shook her head and reached out her arms. “We weren’t! I wouldn’t.”

He leapt into her arms, glaring at Bran as Aisling stroked her hands over his head. “He would.”

“I would,” Bran agreed. “In a heartbeat.”

“Bran,” Aisling chastised.

“What?”

“If the two of you can’t stop arguing, I’m only taking one of you.”

“Well, it better damn well be me then, considering those cannibals will eat you alive without me.”

“Sounds like they’re going to eat me either way.”

He stared at her hips as she sashayed away from him,