V

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

He prowled the perimeter of his room, restless and furious- a predator caged by its fate.

His shirt lay, bloodied and in tatters, before the hearth where he had tossed it.

The skin of his upper arm burned and tightened with the fresh branding that left a circular, black welt against his flesh, and Aëghan rued the day he had ever met and befriended one of the beastkeepers. Rivulets of blood had oozed from the wound and streaked down his limb, dried now and tightening with an infuriating itch.

At the reminder of the marking, at the enflamed circlet that had seared into the skin of his upper arm the moment his fingers had curled around Lillian's, he scowled and swore profusely- as he had been doing since he had departed from the study and took his leave of her after having only just made her acquaintance.

His heartmate.

According to the damn mark that now branded him as hers.

A marking of the Gods, specifically the Draëllian god- a twist of irony that was not lost on him, not at all.

Why would a god that did not belong to him choose to brand him? Though it was not unheard of that the mark of Draë would be found to appear on a vessel that was not one of his devotees, Aëghan would have thought that their god would have had some better knowledge of the tenuous relationship he harboured with the Draëllians.

Though he loathed the cold, he couldn't help but lope over to the window and throw the glass wide. The force rattled the wooden panes, but he hardly noticed as he welcomed the frigid winter breeze caressing the naked expanse of his chest, especially the brand that was burning with a mild and constant fervour on his arm.

Did Lillian bear the same mark?

Did she realise what it signified? And that it was linked to him?

He squeezed his eyes shut, his mind in turmoil, and braced his hands against the sill, the blunt wood biting into the flesh of his palms.

No, he thought, a sharp gust biting his face and sending his hair blowing off his forehead. If the Ravensfield heir had been marked like her sister before her, the house would be in an uproar and more than likely fingers would point... in his direction, specifically. So then the mark had not yet appeared on her, which boded well for him.

He considered briefly that perhaps she wasn't his mate, that the mark could be construed to some other significance, but there was an irrevocable feeling of rightness about it-

Of course Lillian Adams is your mate! The dragon within him rejoiced at the unprecedented occurrence, but he was a fickle creature and ruled by a simpler nature. She is the most perfect of females, resilient and strong- worthy of a dragon!

But it was imperative that he quell those misgivings- Lillian could never be his. It was out of the question- unthinkable, unbelievable, wholly ridiculous-

An image flashed through his mind of eyes as cold as ice and as bright as lightning, framed by dark, sultry lashes and elegantly winged brows arching above them.

His own eyes flew open, and he glared vehemently out into the dark, relishing the breeze that brought with it a few errant snowflakes and a sorely needed dose of levelheadedness. He'd be a fool to pine away after a pretty human girl, especially one that could never be his.

Pretty? He snorted softly. Lillian Adams was not... pretty. A better suited word to describe her hard edges and austere countenance would be... arresting. He had figured that she would resemble her younger sister, but though there were plenty of similarities, Aëghan had also discerned a plethora of differences that made it nigh impossible to reconcile one with the other.

There was a narrowness to Lillian's features, her chin more pronounced and rigid to her sister's softer, rounder face. But Lillian held herself with a more rigid comportment, as if her neck and shoulders were constantly straining with the weight of an unfathomable burden and braced stoically against it. Even as intoxicated as he had been, there was a moment before the potion made him lose his accountability and immerse in a haze of strange euphoria, that the sight of her had affected him. Even now, long after the effects of the enchantment those thick-skulled imbeciles had fed him had worn off, his heart still stuttered at the recollection of her- of long-limbed grace, of thick ash brown hair braided into a heavy plait and draped over her shoulder, loose wisps framing her stern countenance softly in an intriguing juxtaposition.

And his first meeting with her had seen him spout asinine declarations of his affections.

He winced visibly.

It was rare indeed that Aëghan allowed himself to be viewed in such an inferior light. Loot my body, indeed.

He couldn't dwell on his apparent humiliation however, and instead he resolved to make amends- properly- to Lady Lillian and endeavour to forget that a mark was branded across his left arm's bicep. He needed her to trust him enough to converse with him willingly and openly, and he doubted he was spoken of fondly among her little sister's companions. Hopefully he had retreated quick enough, smothered the foreign taint of the magic that oozed from his skin with the mark, and other more curious fae hadn't been alerted to its presence yet. It needn't matter- he'd deal with their intrusions if they did.

In the interim, he would conceal the mark and continue as is, ignoring whatever bothersome urgings that compelled him- instinctual or otherwise. He still needed to converse with Lillian- his prerogative remained the same.

Lillian Adams may be the key he needed yet.

Mates?

Not he.

Ignoring the flare of protestation that his arm began to palpitate with, and that his dragon refuted outright, Aëghan made to push from the sill as he thought of all the reasons why it was improbable that Lillian could ever be his.

Firstly, her sister would never allow it. Aëghan conceded readily that he may have royally cocked things up by abducting Millie, even if he had his reasons- which were somewhat valid in his mind. Secondly, he couldn't have any ties to this world and a human mate would provide just that- something he couldn't relinquish when the time arrived. When he figured out how to leave this realm, having a mate would make that progression... complicated. It would be difficult to leave a complication. Or difficult for the complication?

Or he'd feel terribly guilty doing it.

Wouldn't he?

Perish the thought- he wasn't entirely a cad.

The mark was a complication, but it was one that he could ignore- so long as he kept his interactions with Lillian neutral and orientated solely on his goals, then he could tamp down whatever burgeoning desire he was beginning to feel for her.

Desire, that is all that it was... and he was used to controlling his ardour.

Sort of.

Fine, not at all.

Brusquely, he made to close the window once more but froze, his arm suspended mid-air. A scent, pure and intoxicating, arrested his movements. He had but moments with her before, but he would never be able to forget the pleasantness of Lillian's scent- sweet, of springtime and marigolds- but the strains reaching out to him on the tails of a cool breeze were edged with fraught, of terror and unease.

Every fibre of his soul revolted. He flinched with the vehemence of it and his control became a brittle thing, the dragon itching for release, for the thrust of limbs and wings from the window and into the night air-

He couldn't.

His fingers shaking, Aëghan slammed the window shut. Her distress was a palpable thing, felt more acutely through the mark, and he was in agony for it knowing how she felt.

Growling profanities, he marched over to his armoire and yanked it open, latching onto the closest shirt and hauling it over his head and shoulders moments before a loud, purposeful knock sounded at his door.

It was the last thing he wanted presently, and it was an effort to school his features into his normal cavalier smile and unperturbed humour, but somehow he managed to pull open the door with something passable presented upon his visage that wasn't undisguised irritation.

He did not, however, expect to see Blayne Leowyn on the other side of it.

"Before you say anything," the Draëllian said, his wide-shouldered stance almost embodying the entire threshold and barring Aëghan's exit, "I came to offer an apology."

He almost choked at that. Biting back a retort, Aëghan attempted to push past the other male. "I'll be available for grovelling requests on the morrow," he said dryly. "As of now, however, I am presently engaged."

Blayne placed his hand on the wooden frame of the door emphatically. When Aëghan met his gaze he expected to find hostility in the beastkeeper's, however his molten stare swirled with something Aëghan hadn't been given in years- concern. "Just a moment, Aëghan, to explain."

Damn him.

There was a reason why Blayne Leowyn was considered the authority to which most of them adhered. Both Aëghan and Rogane surpassed Blayne in years but deferred to his judgement on most things when it came to decisions that needed acting upon.

Well, used to- in Aëghan's case.

A conciliatory nature pervaded through Blayne in everything that he did despite years of derogative slurs, despite years of suffering under a system that favoured the human and left the fae to scrabble frantically at whatever pitiful scraps of dignity were offered to them. He sought to live among humans peacefully, expounded now by his union with his very human bride and heartmate.

Aëghan was not quite so forgiving.

He wanted more for his kind- an option to leave this world and return to theirs, at least. If not that, then he'd be damned if he followed their rules and subject himself and his kind to yet more abuse, indignities, and discriminations.

So he conceded momentarily, not because Blayne was his leader, but mostly because they had once been friends and allies- and to be completely fair Aëghan had abducted the other male's half-naked bride and almost fed her to a vile beast.

That was an accident, an oversight on his part. But alas, how was he supposed to know she couldn't talk? He thought she was being obstinate and brattish initially.

Ah, well. Bygones and all that...

"What?" he grunted.

Blayne's eyebrow rose archly but he did not remark on Aëghan's curtness. "If I had known what they intended, I would have put a stop to it immediately," he said instead, his tail moving from side to side in a slight tell of vexation. "You can be assured it will not happen again."

"Nothing I would not have tried myself if I had mind to," he responded flippantly with an idle swish of his wrist. Blayne's gaze tracked the movement, his brow furrowing. "Now, if that is all-"

"Kaede is in a bit of a mire and they were simply trying to lift his spirits, though I'll not tolerate it being at the expense of somebody else." Suddenly, the beastkeeper snatched Aëghan's wrist and held his hand up between them.

"I say, Leo, I thought your wife was woman enough to warm your bedsheets-"

"Are you harmed?" Blayne interrupted suspiciously, eyeing Aëghan's fingers as he turned his hand from left to right.

Conciliatory he may be, but a right bore he was most of the time.

It was when Blayne turned his wrist around so that the back of his hand was to Aëghan's face that the Dravolese noticed the dried rivulets of blood running through his knuckles.

He snatched his hand from the other male's grasp and lurched backwards a step. "A scrape, nothing more, in my haste to leave your friends earlier," Aëghan said sharply.

But Blayne wasn't appeased and his face mirrored his doubt. "And you were unable to heal yourself?" he queried sceptically.

"Lest you make me regret ever saving your life, Leowyn, I urge you to stand aside. Recall, if you will, that I am otherwise engaged this evening-"

"With what?"

"Perhaps you grow tired of running a dukedom. Would you stand to be my governess henceforth?"

Blayne said nothing in return, merely stared at him in the same infuriatingly calm demeanour that he normally embodied. The man was hardly ever riled to a fervour... only once had Aëghan witnessed him at his most enraged and subsequently most powerful.

"No?" Aëghan taunted, folding his arms across his chest. "Perhaps you'd desire me to lodge my comings and goings in a ledger of some sort? You could simply place it by the door-"

"You are being flippant, my friend," Blayne said firmly, "but I know you better. Regardless, you are a guest here, and my concern was only for your wellbeing."

Aëghan grinned crookedly. "Misplaced, but noted. I am quite perfect, Leo. Now if you'll-"

"Ah, just the gentleman I was seeking," Finnegan Holt said suddenly from behind Blayne.

Aëghan smothered a foul curse with a sudden sneeze.

"Holt," Blayne acknowledged with a small tilt of his chin and moved aside to permit the other man audience.

With the patience of a saint, Aëghan forced a benign smile upon his face. "As much as I so do adore being hounded-"

"Aëghan," Holt said, embedding his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels with good-natured amiability as he chewed on one end of a toothpick. "You will be pleased to know that Mrs Holt and I have been in consult."

"Will I?"

"Indeed." He shared a glance with Blayne then, who looked slightly perplexed at the events transpiring in the hallway outside one of his guest's chambers. "After speaking briefly with Lady Ravensfield, and being informed of what transpired this afternoon and your behaviour as such, we have decided to approve your application. It seems, sir, that you have quite a few advocates in your corner as of today."

"Perfect." He couldn't stomach it a moment longer and shoved past both other males, keen to be rid of their company so he could tend to his own urgencies. Like a man possessed, he began to trot down the hallway.

"I say, Aëghan- the tablet!" Holt called out, almost desperately. "I have it here for you, my man! What shall I do with it?"

"Sign me up for every match, or toss it on the bed- I shall see to it!" As an afterthought, he shot over his shoulder with a tight grin, "Or shove it up your arse where I may retrieve it later."

As he disappeared down the passage, Aëghan managed to only just make out what Finnegan Holt muttered to Blayne, "We should be concerned that his profile is one of our most sought after by our female clientele- and it has only been active a few hours."

And then, so faint and out of earshot that he could scarcely make out Blayne's clipped response, "It is unfathomable to me, after all that we have been through, why you would think this information interests me."  

***

A/N

Getting this one out earlier than my intended Sunday update because I am heading into Dubai this weekend- so wasn't sure I'd make one in time, or if I did it probably would be rubbish. 

And Dubai tends to incapacitate me for a few days. 

On another note, I don't normally like to post pics of inspirations for characters because, well, as a reader you should develop your own idea of what they should look like and that tends to carry you forth in the story. BUTTT, I do think I have found my perfect Aëghan! If you wanna check him out, I'll add a pic of him- so do let me know. Won't take much convincing because my gawd he deserves to be shared. 

Anywho!

Also just a quick thank you once more to those of you who followed the journey with The Beastkeeper's Bride- I have watched this little story shoot up in the span of a couple of days to the extent I've been scared to open my notifications! I am so content with it being a quirky little Indie fantasy novel, but something in the mysterious Wattpad algorithm kicked it up a notch and it's all thanks to you- the overwhelming originals :) love youuuuuu xxx

Who knew people liked boys with tails?  Wait, I did. 

Jokes. I think Ruby Dixon did. 

Lemme leave it at that... 

Love & light, 

Ash xxx

Faye7769  BlakeisBae  purpleraindow ye shall receive!😅😊