From Cruel Enchantment by Anya Bast
Book Release Date: September 7, 2010… so this story is also a
It had been too long. She barely remembered what it was to be fae–what she was under the layers of illusion she’d donned. It was good to be here. She didn’t regret a bit not ordering a car to come for her at the gates, even though the walk would not be doing her leg muscles any favors tomorrow morning.
She blinked, glimpsing something down the road that didn’t fit with her natural surroundings. Someone striding through the dappled sunlight and pollen-laden air. A man. A large, muscular man walking with purpose toward her. He carried something in his hand, but she couldn’t quite make it out.
Her pace slowing, she watched him approach, seeing something intangibly familiar in the way he moved and the broad set of his shoulders. Who was this man? What was he doing way out here? His posture and the way he strode toward her seemed vaguely threatening. Suddenly she wished for a weapon. She usually carried one–old habits died hard–but she hadn’t brought any into Piefferburg with her.
He strode on heavy boots and wore black pants and a white poet’s shirt that would’ve made any other man but him look feminine. His long, dusky blond hair was pulled partway back at his nape, free tendrils moving around a face so heartbreakingly beautiful in a savage, brutal way it made her want to cry. Strong, clefted chin; full lips; dark brown eyes. His build peeked out at the collar of the poet’s shirt–strong and muscled from hard work–wide shoulders, narrow hips, the fabric of his pants clinging to the thighs of an athlete.
Or of a blacksmith.