If I could have painted Phyre’s face the first time I’d flown into camp carrying Jules in my arms, I’d have it framed in my bedroom. She’d gawked, surprise in her eyes, as I’d set him down gently on the Hunt’s grounds.
She smiled warmly at the human, her eyes never leaving mine, and outstretched her hand in greeting. Phyre was many things, but prejudiced was never one of them.
“A human, Kol? Is he, like, your prisoner or something? Phylix won’t let you keep a pet, you know.”
“Do shut up, Phy.”
“I’m Julian,” he said, noting her long, wispy scarlet hair with curious fascination. I could see the question in his eyes. Phyre, like many magick wielding fey, looked human, with nothing but her pointed ears to give her away.
Phyre smiled, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “You can call me Phyre. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Julian,” she said sincerely.
“Jules here wants to join the Hunt,” I said, my lips curling into a smirk. Phyre met my gaze, both brows raised.
“Are you serious?”
We had a couple of humans among our ranks, but very few, and all from Oread. It was almost unheard of for someone from outside our circle to join.
Julian noted her hesitance and stepped forward confidently. “If I can beat him, I’m betting I can take you, too.” Maybe a little too confidently.
Phyre glowed, not just with excitement from the challenge, but her body lit with fire magick. Jules stumbled back, surprise glinting in his eyes.
“Even if she weren’t to use her magick,” I told him, “You’d stand zero chance against her.”
“Was that a compliment?” Phyre asked, letting her magick dim. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Kol? Actually, you know what? I like this version better. What kind of spell did you cast on him, Julian? Keep ‘em coming.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed. “Me? I, uh, I didn’t do anything.”
“C’mon,” I groaned, grabbing Jules by his arm. “I’m taking him to the main tent. Have Phylix meet us there.”
I drug him along behind me, forcing him to sit crossed legged on the grass inside the tent while I gathered the supplies. He whistled a tune under his breath, trying to appear nonchalant.
Taking a seat beside him on the grass, I nodded my head toward him. “Take off your shirt.”
Jules raised an eyebrow, but with little thought, complied with the request. His mischievous smirk was illuminated by a glimmer in his eye as he uttered, “Forward, I like it.” There was something about the way he said the words that made me feel a warmth in my chest.
He untucked his shirt and shrugged it off, revealing lightly muscled arms and a lean chest beneath bronzed skin. Despite everything, I couldn’t help my eyes wandering.
I cleared my throat, and went to work, drawing out the tattoo needle and dipping it into the pot of ink made from ashes.
“A tattoo?”
I nodded, moving my shirt out of the way to reveal my tattooed star on my chest. “The seven-point star. We all have one. If you want to join the Hunt, you’ll have to get it, too. Unless,” I paused, smirking. “You’ve changed your mind?”
Jules shook his head. “No. Of course not. Stab away.”
I set the needle against his skin, and Jules inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the pain. As I worked, outlining the star in black ink, he was surprisingly stoic.
When I finished and stepped back to admire my handiwork, I noticed how crooked my lines were. Tattooing the feyrie star was symbolic, given by an equal in rank to represent a partnership with the Hunt. Phyre had done mine, but I’d never tattooed one before.
As I looked at the rune I’d placed on his skin, my eyes scanned the rest of his body slowly. His toned stomach, the bronze of his skin, and the way his muscles bunched when he tensed.
He noticed. Gods, did he notice. Jules licked his bottom lip and cocked a brow. “You could just ask me out, you know.”
My cheeks burned, but I recovered my composure quickly. “Fine. Get out.”
He smiled, dark eyes alight with mischief and something deeper that made me feel lightheaded all of a sudden. Before he could say anything else, Phylix ’s voice boomed from the opening.
“The new recruit?” He eyed the tattoo, then flitted his eyes disapprovingly at me. I knew it wasn’t because of my shoddy handiwork, but because I’d failed to check in with him before I’d tattooed Jules.
But for some reason, I’d been in a rush to etch the symbol onto his skin. Maybe because once you’d be branded as a member of the Wilde Hunt, there was no going back. No way for him to turn his back on us—on me—and leave.