Captivated By The Fae: A Cinderella Retelling (Once Upon a Fairy Tale Romance Book 2)
Captivated By The Fae: Chapter 8

As we lay in the grass, I notice the light of many stars through a clear space in the canopy above us. “I have heard rumors that your people are stargazers like mine. Is this correct?”

“Yes.” A wistful smile curves her lips. “My parents used to lay out a blanket, and we’d gaze up at the stars. They would teach me all about the constellations.”

“You speak of your parents in the past tense.”

Her expression falls. “They died when I was little.”

She does not tell me how her parents died, and I do not ask. Instead, I offer her the only thing I can—the Fae shared words of mourning. “My heart grieves with yours.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes bright with tears. “Do you still have your parents?”

I close my eyes briefly against the painful memory. “I still have my father, but my mother died when I was a child.”

Ella’s warm hand takes mine, squeezing gently. “My heart grieves with yours.”

As we turn our gaze back to the night sky, I note that the silence between us is neither awkward nor uncomfortable.

She makes no move to pull her hand away from mine, and I am glad. After a moment, I lift my free hand and point to a cluster of stars in the northern sky. “You see that constellation there?”

She shakes her head and scoots closer to me, so close that her delicate scent—something akin to strawberries and sunshine—fills my nostrils. The warmth of her body radiates to mine. My heart begins hammering. “Where?”

“Right there.” I point, and she moves even closer. She turns her head toward me, the warm mint of her breath fanning across my face with the cool night breeze.

“I see it now,” she replies with a smile that stops my heart momentarily.

I have heard that humans possess inferior night vision. Staring at her in the darkness, I am glad she is unable to see me as clearly as I can see her. The tips of my ears and my cheeks flush with warmth, and I know they have probably turned a light shade of green.

I am completely and utterly captivated by her luminous blue eyes. They remind me of the sky on a clear summer day, and I could so easily lose myself in her gaze.

“You are not what I expected,” she whispers.

Her eyes stare deep into my own. The vision of her standing across from me, reciting the ancient vows of bonding, replays in my head. I lower my gaze. She can never be mine. I am dangerous—especially to her.

I clear my throat and then decide to tease her. “Yes, I remember you expected me to take your firstborn child.”

Mirna snickers, and Ella laughs, the sound light and beautiful. She is captivating in a way that I thought only Fae and Elvenkind could ever be, and I am completely enchanted.

We continue to stare up at the stars, and I point out the constellations as they are known to my people, while she shares what they mean to hers. I’m astounded that two different cultures can study the same sky and see something so vastly different. Yet, how strange that either of our people even bothered to look up at all.

“Do you think all cultures observe the stars?”

“Yes,” she answers without hesitation.

I study her curiously. “Why do you say this?”

“I think it’s the nature of our existence… the core truth in all of us.”

I tip my head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“We are constantly reaching for that which is just out of reach. We strive to make sense of the mysterious by searching for patterns in the sky and giving names to things we do not truly understand.” She pauses. “Perhaps that’s why there are rumors about names having power. To name something is to claim it—to make it ours.”

I am completely and utterly spellbound by her words. Her mind is fascinating.

A lovely smile graces her lips as she continues. “We search the stars for patterns and name the constellations. Then we try to interpret their meaning when we are the ones who assigned them in the first place.”

To listen to her speak is to see the world through a different lens. She is as captivating as she is beautiful, and I replace myself completely enthralled by her words.

As the night wears on, we talk of many things. Her mind is fascinating—a complex and unsolvable puzzle. Where I see structures and patterns, she sees beauty and mystery.

The tales she has heard of my people make me laugh, but some give me pause.

“I’ve always been told to avoid wandering the forest during the silver moon cycle,” she says. “There are stories about humans being captivated by and spirited away by the Fae. That is why I was so scared when I first saw you. I thought that’s what you meant to do when you approached me.”

I look to her. “It is forbidden for us to do this anymore.”

She turns on her side, propping herself up on one elbow as she studies me. “It’s true, then?”

I nod. “Many of our people have human ancestry.”

She blinks. “What about the wild hunt? It is said that Fae and Elves used to hunt our kind beneath the Hunter’s moon. Is that true as well?”

The wild hunt. She has heard it is a night when otherworldly beings prey upon humans, but this is not so.

I meet her eyes evenly. “It is not what you have heard. It is an ancient practice, still kept by the Elves. After the ceremony of bonding, the male chases his mate through the forest. When he catches her, they seal their bond beneath the stars. It is how they honor their connection to the gods of nature and ask for their blessings upon the marriage in return.”

“Oh,” she replies, her cheeks flushing with color. She lowers her gaze and nervously tucks a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. “The Fae no longer do this.”

Although she says this as a statement, I understand it is a question as well.

“Some still do. But most simply have an outdoor bonding ceremony.” I pause. “What about humans?”

As I listen to her speak of the traditions of her people, a cool breeze moves through the forest, and I curl my wing tighter around her to keep her warm. I’m surprised and humbled by how much trust she already places in me.

The light of the silver moon casts an ethereal glow upon her pale skin. As my gaze travels over her face, a pink bloom spreads across her cheeks. Her perfect, full lips draw my attention. Errantly, I wonder if they are as soft as I imagine. I fist my hands at my sides so I am not tempted to run my fingers through the long, silken strands of her hair, pulling her to me and tasting of her lips.

When she falls asleep, I lie silently beside her, studying her delicate features as she rests. I admire the curved shell of her ear where a Fae’s would be pointed, the softly rounded curve of her brow, and the many spots that span the bridge of her nose and cheeks.

She curls her body into mine and places her small hand on my chest. Lightly, I rest my hand over hers, imagining her standing before me as we recite the ancient vows of bonding.

My grandfather always told me that the moment he met my grandmother, his soul recognized hers. I’d always believed that his memory of their meeting had been shaped by their many years together. But as I stare at Ella, I understand now that he was speaking truth.

As she nestles against me, my fangs instinctively extend into sharpened points with want to claim her as mine. I’m startled by how much emotion I already have for her. With a slight clench of my jaw, I force myself to look away from her sleeping form.

I do not realize how much time has gone by until the early light of dawn begins to glow on the horizon. Gently, I call her name to wake her. “Ella.”

Her eyelids flutter open, and she gives me a sleepy smile. “What time is it?”

“I do not know. I only know that the sun is already—”

She jerks up, her eyes wide as she scans the forest. “Oh, my gods! I have to get home! If I don’t have breakfast ready, she’ll be upset!”

Ella jumps to her feet and starts for the woods. She calls over her shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yes,” I reply, my gaze locked on her retreating form. I wish she did not have to leave. “I will be here.”