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The world could be a vicious thing, one surrounded by sharpened thorns. Both visible and invisible. For Thorna, this was more than true. She was in love with a human, and she hadn’t known true love until she stumbled upon him. Lovers of her past had held pieces of her heart, but not her entire being. Thorna had once read a book of dark and monstrous tales called Dearest Clementine that she had discovered at an antique store in the mortal world. Inside the tome, a fiend had penned stories to his lover while searching for and trying to save her. It was a book that had stuck with Thorna. And this was her inspiration of how she would attempt to woo the human she loved. For a week, Thorna would bring Asher one story a night before revealing her true self. Then he could decide if he would accept her as she was, including all the beasties of her fae world.
“Just steal him from his world and bring him here,” Pyrka said, his jet-black hair brushing his hunched shoulders. He reminded her a little of the Hunchback of Notre Dame in the mortal world, only, Pyrka’s flesh resembled tree bark.
Thorna cocked her head and reclined in her throne—made of twisted tree branches—and studied her favorite beastie. Pyrka’s eyes glowed a deep gold and thorns ran across his forehead, shoulders, and arms. All the beasties in her throne room were no taller than her waist, yet they could still easily protect and guard her. But Pyrka was her favorite—he was her best friend.
“This is one mortal I would like to give a choice to. Not steal him.” She sighed, staring at the room around her. The tangled thorn branches, the colorful butterflies, the high ceiling entwined with violet and cerulean leaves. Behind her, the wall of pale purple water shimmered, falling in tranquil waves into the pond below. Its music was a constant reminder of the portal to the mortal world it held. Taking Asher would be a simple task. But no, she wouldn’t resort to that.
Pyrka bowed. “If you need me to retrieve him in the future, I will, my queen.”
Thorna patted his head and smiled. “Take leave and see your family for the night.” With that, she shifted into her Luna moth form, then darted through the water wall and slipped into the mortal world.
As she flew into the cool night, above the tops of trees and across city lights, Thorna eventually stumbled upon a quaint street filled with two-story brick homes. Asher’s old rusty truck sat outside his pristine house, the lights still on in his downstairs window.
Thorna had never been inside Asher’s house, only followed him home one day from his work, in her moth form, to see where he lived. It was so she could give him these tales of hers. He loved reading and watching dark fantasy, so she wanted to provide him with something special, endearing.
Wings fluttering, Thorna peered into the glass, through a slit in the blinds, finding Asher alone on a leather couch, his eyes shut. Asher’s dark hair was swept back, the lamp highlighting his olive complexion. He was twenty-seven years of age, centuries younger than her, but it didn’t matter.
Her heart gave a jerk at the sight of him, just as it had when she first stumbled upon him at the antique shop he owned.
For the past few months, she had come in almost every day. After he had recently asked her on a date, it was time for him to discover who and what she truly was before she told him yes. Thorna wouldn’t hide her true nature from any lover.
Shifting into her fae form, her silk dress swishing around her legs, Thorna pushed her emerald hair over her shoulder and retrieved the first story, rolled into a scroll, from the satchel. She set it on the porch mat, along with a twig of thorns atop. Taking a breath, she rang the doorbell, then vanished into the night. For seven nights, she would bring him a new story.
In search of old teacups, Thorna opened the door to the antique shop. She wanted to add more to the collection in her palace. Her collection of things constantly changed, depending on her mood.
“Do you need some help?” a deep voice asked.
She glanced up to find a young mortal sitting behind the desk of the store. He was tall, pretty, but not too pretty, yet not hideous either. His smile was radiant, crooked and imperfect. She liked the way his unruly dark hair flopped into his deep brown eyes, the way his long fingers tapped the desk.
“Perhaps.” She shrugged and sauntered toward him.
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