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Summary
“If I told you to place your trust in me,” the faerie ventures, tracing the outline of Childe’s parted lips before slipping his thumb between them, “would you?”
Every one of Childe’s survival instincts scream NO.
But Scaramouche is the kind of beautiful that will haunt him for the rest of his life. He is older than Childe’s ancestors, a dangerous being that has been the source of his village’s nightmares for generations, and Childe’s dick should not be so fucking hard at the thought of offering himself to be used however the faerie sees fit.
There are far worse ways to die, he thinks.
The twisted, gnarled forest near Childe’s home is rumored to be home to cunning, man-eating faeries.
However, he’s never believed the mysterious folktales swirling around the village, so when he stumbles into a lush, green paradise hidden beyond the dark shroud, Childe gets far more than he bargained for.