The Dragon's Match

II

II

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

If she hadn't been peering down the length of the arrow she had notched and primed, despite the ever-present trembling of her hands, Lillian Adams would not have seen the faeborn male ambling along the gravel road away from her family's estate.

The hare she had been spying some ten yards away near the slight dip at the fringe of the road twitched at the heavy crunch of the male's boots against the dirt and rubble, its ears twisting towards the intrusive sound, and then it darted into the undergrowth of the forest with haste.

It was no matter- Lillian's aim was poor thanks to the uncontrollable way her fingers shook. She had hoped that by regularly strengthening her hold through use of her bow and arrow that the tremors would lessen, yet they had not. To boot, it was not as if her ducal seat was want for food that spoke of the need to see the heir partake in hunting rabbits about the estate.

She unnotched her arrow and tucked it silently back into the quiver that hung at her hip, slinging her bow over her shoulder, and crouched low into the shadows of the pine she had been standing behind, her senses honed towards the presence of the Other moving across her line of sight. Her gaze tracked the loping gait of the male warily, hoping he would pass without noticing her amongst the foliage and trees that flanked the road to either side of him, abhorring the way her skin prickled with the ever-present reminders that fear prevailed and coordinated her every action since she had returned to this world.

Even though outwardly he appeared human in appearance, Lillian knew enough of the fae having resided amongst them in their world for four long years only recently to identify the tells that signified otherwise. The fluidity and grace of his long limbs as he loped by, confident and measured in his pace as his legs stretched before him; the inky depths of his silken hair that hung haphazardly in a flyaway mess atop his head, locks that seemed to glisten with the light of entrapped stars. She may be several yards from him, but she had no doubt in her mind that if he were to turn to face her, she would behold one of the most beautiful males she had ever seen. A faint trickle of awareness of him as a man skittered over the nerves that were reacting in trepidation and she mused over it for but a moment, curious that dormant stirrings of attraction were occurring now, then and there, when Lillian Adams held no such hopes to ever feel anything for a man, but it was largely overridden and quelled entirely by the dominant trepidations afflicting her consciousness.

Her fear and wariness of their kind had transferred from their world to this one with her, and Lillian quickly took stock of the wind and her subsequent position instinctively, confirming that she was indeed downwind.

It did not bode well for humanity's survival as a species that the faeborn not only held magical abilities, but they were generally faster and stronger than them, and their finely honed senses far surpassed that of any above-average person of non-magical ability. If the male hadn't seen her in the shadows, he could have most likely scented her were her positioning any different.

It was not entirely irrational that she felt such unease around the fae that lingered at her sister's behest upon the estate, knowing full well that their loyalty to Millie was steadfast and true, that they would never harm her or her sister in any way. Yet Lillian felt her hand tremors increase tenfold until the sensation reverberated through her limbs and over her entire body, a cold sweat breaking out along the curve of her spine, as the unknown male passed her along the road. A prickle of tension made its way under her skin and her breath pulled tight within her lungs, compelling her to quicken her exhalation to a soft pant.

The male was further away now, his figure disappearing and reappearing behind the imposing trunks of the trees as he walked, and Lillian allowed her shoulders to sink into the back of the tree she hid behind. She compelled her heart to calm, her breathing to soothe and slow, her fingers to ease their maddening trembles by splaying her hands flat to either side of her, the abrasive bark pressing into the skin of her palms.