with getting herself into strange fixes.
Case in point: the witch pinned by the oak tree.
“I can see that.” He made a show of peering over the ground. “Looks like a spell sigil to me. Witch stuff, eh?” Tucking his hands behind his back, Kelyn leaned forward in an admonishing teacher pose and said to her, “You know that witch stuff is the worst you could manage here in the Darkwood? The mortal realm powers you possess clash terribly with the faery energies that inhabit every inch of this woods.”
“I’m not working magic at the moment. Just—” A glance to the angel-dust sigil and scattered ingredients proved her guilt. “What do you want, Kelyn? Don’t you have a deer to chase?”
He righted himself and laughed. “We were racing. She won.”
Right. The man was faery. And Valor knew he had wings. Trouble had told her they were big and silver and violet, and that Kelyn was ever proud of them. She also knew that of all four Saint-Pierre brothers, Kelyn was the strongest and most powerful. Or so Trouble had told her during a drunken game of truth or dare one night.
To judge by Kelyn’s lean, lithe appearance, Valor had to wonder about such skills and strength. Sure, he looked riveted together with a factory gun and sculpted from solid marble, but Valor always tended toward the beefier, broader sorts. With dark hair. Always. A blond? Never had an interest.
On the other hand, why was she limiting her options when the reason she’d come to the Darkwood was to cast a spell for love?
Propping her chin in a hand and twisting at the hip to look more casual, she asked, “You go running through this forest often?”
Surely, he had noticed that her legs were sucked into the ground up to her knees, but she had a difficult time asking anyone for help. She was woman. Hear her roar!
She hated coming off as the weak one. The stupid witch who’d gone to the Darkwood without telling anyone.
“I do go for a run a few times a week. This woods is special to me.” He smoothed a hand absently down his abs, which drew Valor’s eye to the violet sigils. They looked like intricate mandalas, and she knew they were the source of his faery magic. “You talk to Trouble lately?”
“No,” she answered defensively. Not sure why, though. She had no reason to be defensive. Kelyn must have known that she and Trouble were friends. “You?”
Stupid witch. Why was she making light conversation?
“Couple days ago. He never mentions you.”
“Why should he?”
Kelyn shrugged a shoulder and cast his glance to the ground, his gaze stretching behind her. She shouldn’t have said that. It was the truth, though. She considered him a friend. Just that.
“You look...stuck,” he said. Suddenly, his gaze went fierce and he looked over her shoulder.
“What’s—”
Before she could summon a stupid excuse, Valor heard the roar. A beastly, slobbery utterance accompanied by a foul, greasy odor that filled the air as if a stink bomb had been set off.
Kelyn leaped, and in midair his wings unfurled. The gorgeous violet-and-silver appendages lifted him with a flap or two and he met the creature that had jumped high to collide with him in a crush of growls and slapping body parts. The twosome landed on the ground ten feet before Valor, the heavy weight of Kelyn’s opponent denting the moss and tearing up clods of sod.
Valor dug her fingers into the leaves and whispered a protection spell that drew a white light over her body and snapped against her form. The oak tree growled at the intrusion and she felt her knees get sucked deeper into the earth. The tree seemed to feed off her witch magic. And in the next instant, the protection shattered, like plastic crinkling over her skin, and it fell away.
Never had she felt so helpless. Pray to the goddess, Kelyn could defeat the aggressor, which was five times his size and built like a bear. It was a troll of some sort. Or so she guessed. She’d never seen one but knew they existed.
Kelyn punched the creature in its barrel gut. The troll yowled and kicked Kelyn off, sending the faery flying through the air where a flap of his wings stopped him from crashing into the tree canopy. Aiming for the troll, Kelyn arrowed down and landed a kick to the thing’s blocky head.
Valor slapped her hands over her head in protection, but it didn’t matter. Every moment that passed, she felt her body move minutely deeper into the cold, compressing earth.
With one final punch to its spine from Kelyn’s fist, the troll went down, landing on the moss in a sprawl. It shuddered like a gelatinous gray glob of Thanksgiving Jell-O, and then, with an explosion of faery dust that decorated the air, it dissipated.
And behind the glittering shimmer stood Kelyn, wiping the dust from his arms and abs as if he had only tussled with a minor annoyance.
Valor couldn’t stop looking around at the scatter of dust that glinted madly. More beautiful than she would imagine coming from such an atrocious creature. It almost put the angel dust to shame.
Kelyn approached. “What was it you were saying about muscled men rescuing you?”
“I didn’t...” She’d not said anything about being rescued. But really? She might have to change her tune about the leaner versions.
“You didn’t what? Ask for rescue? Looks like you might be in need of just that.”
“I’m cool.” Why had she said that? Why the need to act as though death were not dragging her down into the earth?
Kelyn squatted before her, arms resting on his thighs. “I can’t win with you, can I, Valor?”
“What do you mean? Win?”
“You’re a hard woman to please, is all.”
“No, I’m not. All it takes is some good dark coffee to make me happy.”
“Coffee served up with muscles. Like my brother Trouble has?”
“What? What is it with you and your concern about me and Trouble? We only ever—”
He put up a hand to stop her from saying more. “Don’t need the details.”
“There are no details.”
Okay, well, there had been that one time. But she wasn’t stupid enough to fill the brother in on the salacious stuff. Trouble had probably already done that.
“I really liked you,” Kelyn said, looking aside now. He’d dropped his shoulders, and the sweat and troll dust glistening on his abs drew Valor’s eye. “For a while there.”
“What do you mean?” She met his lift of chin and then figured it out. “You mean...?”
He shrugged. “But then you tripped into my brother’s arms and that’s all she wrote. I always manage to lose the girl to him. What is it about him? He’s a big lunk!”
Valor smiled at that assessment. Trouble did have some lunkish qualities. Okay, a lot of lunkish
