the mixed-Fae don’t even know they are Fae, let alone
know they have a queen or a heritage. They lack almost any form of
infrastructure and balk at our attempts to help them establish one.
They have only a partial listing of their members and it’s filled
with inaccuracies—”
“That still doesn’t mean they
deserve to be wiped off the face of the earth.”
“I agree, but old prejudices run
deep. Purist-type thinking isn’t confined to hatred of Lycans who
are half human. Some can’t accept the idea of non-humans that don’t
fall into the shifter category or—”
“Or Fae-Lycan matings.” Brandi
sighed heavily and leaned her head against Reno’s shoulder. “Why
can’t everyone get along and see the value of all life? Every
living creature is a miracle in its own right, after all.”
Reno gave her a one-armed hug. “I
know, Babe. I know. Let’s hope this hair-brained scheme we’ve
concocted works.”
“And the collateral damage isn’t
too high”
Chapter 7
Eve peered out the window and
nibbled on her thumbnail, caught herself and shoved her hand into
her pocket out of harm’s way. She really wanted—make that needed —to go outside.
It wasn’t that she minded being
inside; a day or two wasn’t too much of a trial. In fact, given the
uneasy ‘being-watched’ feeling that had plagued her much of
yesterday, staying in the cabin had seemed preferable. However, a
good night’s rest had erased what was, no doubt, paranoia on her
part and going outside felt less daunting than it had the previous
day.
She’d spent much of the yesterday
working on preliminary sketches for a series of paintings; a stand
of pine trees, set against varying skies from sunrises and sunsets
to storms and the Northern Lights. An art gallery had been making
noises about featuring her in an exhibit and if that actually
happened, she’d need to have several more pieces prepared.
The particular group of trees she
was hoping to feature were surrounded by an interesting swirl of
mist at the moment. However, they were to the side of the cabin and
she couldn’t get a clear view of them from the front window without
craning her neck at an awkward angle. If it wasn’t for that darned
wolf, she’d sit right outside and have an uninterrupted view, but
she’d told Rafe she wouldn’t go wandering around.
However… The porch was still part
of the cabin, right? Technically she wouldn’t be breaking her word.
For one final moment, she pondered the wisdom of what she was about
to do then decided to go for it. Art waited for no man…er…wolf!
After pulling on a heavy sweater to
ward off the dampness, she grabbed her sketch pad and headed
towards the door, bringing Rafe’s gun along just in case. Feeling
pleased that she’d taken the necessary precautions, she arranged an
old wooden chair so she could see the trees at a proper angle, set
the gun at her feet and went to work.
For almost an hour she sketched
non-stop, her pencil flying across the pages as she drew the trees,
the grass at their base, an old stump, the fog that rolled off the
mountains in the distance. Slowly, the sun broke through the
clouds, its beams penetrating the misty whiteness and creating
interesting lighting effects. A faint breeze began to blow,
stirring strands of her hair, but she merely tucked the persistent
stray locks behind her ear not wanting to stop to look for a
hairclip. The fog would be gone soon.
She squinted, wishing she could see
the tree up close. Something wasn’t quite right. Her gaze flicked
between her page and the actual tree, puzzling over what was wrong.
It would only take a few minutes to walk over there and get a close
up look at the texture…
No, her common sense dictated she
not take such a chance.
Giving a shrug, she decided she’d
done enough for one day and closed her sketchpad. She stretched,
pleased with her work and happy to have been outside. The gentle
underlying pulse of nature filled her with a sense of
know they have a queen or a heritage. They lack almost any form of
infrastructure and balk at our attempts to help them establish one.
They have only a partial listing of their members and it’s filled
with inaccuracies—”
“That still doesn’t mean they
deserve to be wiped off the face of the earth.”
“I agree, but old prejudices run
deep. Purist-type thinking isn’t confined to hatred of Lycans who
are half human. Some can’t accept the idea of non-humans that don’t
fall into the shifter category or—”
“Or Fae-Lycan matings.” Brandi
sighed heavily and leaned her head against Reno’s shoulder. “Why
can’t everyone get along and see the value of all life? Every
living creature is a miracle in its own right, after all.”
Reno gave her a one-armed hug. “I
know, Babe. I know. Let’s hope this hair-brained scheme we’ve
concocted works.”
“And the collateral damage isn’t
too high”
Chapter 7
Eve peered out the window and
nibbled on her thumbnail, caught herself and shoved her hand into
her pocket out of harm’s way. She really wanted—make that needed —to go outside.
It wasn’t that she minded being
inside; a day or two wasn’t too much of a trial. In fact, given the
uneasy ‘being-watched’ feeling that had plagued her much of
yesterday, staying in the cabin had seemed preferable. However, a
good night’s rest had erased what was, no doubt, paranoia on her
part and going outside felt less daunting than it had the previous
day.
She’d spent much of the yesterday
working on preliminary sketches for a series of paintings; a stand
of pine trees, set against varying skies from sunrises and sunsets
to storms and the Northern Lights. An art gallery had been making
noises about featuring her in an exhibit and if that actually
happened, she’d need to have several more pieces prepared.
The particular group of trees she
was hoping to feature were surrounded by an interesting swirl of
mist at the moment. However, they were to the side of the cabin and
she couldn’t get a clear view of them from the front window without
craning her neck at an awkward angle. If it wasn’t for that darned
wolf, she’d sit right outside and have an uninterrupted view, but
she’d told Rafe she wouldn’t go wandering around.
However… The porch was still part
of the cabin, right? Technically she wouldn’t be breaking her word.
For one final moment, she pondered the wisdom of what she was about
to do then decided to go for it. Art waited for no man…er…wolf!
After pulling on a heavy sweater to
ward off the dampness, she grabbed her sketch pad and headed
towards the door, bringing Rafe’s gun along just in case. Feeling
pleased that she’d taken the necessary precautions, she arranged an
old wooden chair so she could see the trees at a proper angle, set
the gun at her feet and went to work.
For almost an hour she sketched
non-stop, her pencil flying across the pages as she drew the trees,
the grass at their base, an old stump, the fog that rolled off the
mountains in the distance. Slowly, the sun broke through the
clouds, its beams penetrating the misty whiteness and creating
interesting lighting effects. A faint breeze began to blow,
stirring strands of her hair, but she merely tucked the persistent
stray locks behind her ear not wanting to stop to look for a
hairclip. The fog would be gone soon.
She squinted, wishing she could see
the tree up close. Something wasn’t quite right. Her gaze flicked
between her page and the actual tree, puzzling over what was wrong.
It would only take a few minutes to walk over there and get a close
up look at the texture…
No, her common sense dictated she
not take such a chance.
Giving a shrug, she decided she’d
done enough for one day and closed her sketchpad. She stretched,
pleased with her work and happy to have been outside. The gentle
underlying pulse of nature filled her with a sense of
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