Dryad's Vine: Wyrd Love, #3

By Cynthia Diamond

Despite their good intentions, Phoebe Constance is sick of her overprotective sisters. After breaking away for a week alone, an old flame appears on her doorstep; battered, confused, and transformed into a werewolf. Now, on the run, Harry's sexy grin and delicious body may lead her down the road to another shattered heart. Phoebe isn't sure what is more terrifying; the darkened fae who hunt them, or losing herself to Harry yet again.

After escaping six years of enslavement, Harry Blake has been altered into a monster. Yet Phoebe's radiant smile and spastic humor soothes the uncontrollable beast inside him. The tiny half Dryad is even more beautiful than the day they met and instantly his old feelings return. But after hurting her all those years ago, he knows she'll never forgive him. Can he win her back as well as protect her from the evil that hunts them both?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia Diamond
• Release date: Apr 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781535179072

Cynthia Diamond

Since she was a child, Cynthia craved anything that featured heroines with strong personalities. Now she writes books for sassy nerds with a sharp sense of humor. Starting her adult life in theater, she earned a Masters of Fine Arts in Costume Design, but her first love was telling stories. After some encouragement, she dove down the rabbit hole and created the Wyrd Love series.  When not telling tales about hot dragons and werewolves with tight behinds, Cynthia is an SCA geek and an amateur artist. She resides in sunny San Diego, California with her husband Max, two cats of varying intelligence, and a ton of goldfish.

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Dryad’s Vine

Wyrd Love: Book 3

Cynthia Diamond

C:\Users\320229\Downloads\DryadsVine.jpg

Artwork by Lynne Anderson

Copyright © 2016 by Cynthia Diamond

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Book Layout © 2014 BookDesignTemplates.com

Dryad’s Vine/ Cynthia Diamond.—1st ed.

ISBN 978-1535179072

To Ace, my real life Phoebe.

You are strong.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 1

THE TASTE OF SILVER was heavy on Harry’s tongue; dirty and metallic. It burned his mouth and made him want to retch, but it was either devour that horrid metal or be chained to a wall for the rest of his life. At the passing sound of footsteps, he froze, links still wedged between his teeth. He stared at the battered wooden door, clutching the chain tight to keep it from rattling. The silver scorched his palms and he winced, biting back a howl.

Keep walking. Please keep walking.

The footsteps faded, and he started in again, gnawing and pulling until his gums bled. Harry wasn’t sure how long he had been trapped inside that small, dark cell. Weeks? Months? There were no windows, so the passage of time was nothing but an endless, dark blur. But long enough that the stink of unwashed flesh and rotting food was common. Time had produced a straggly beard on his chin, one that his captors had shaved that very morning. They weren’t gentle. He didn’t expect them to be. Harry pulled the chain from his mouth to spit out the bloody grime that coated his teeth. Murky saliva rolled down his chin and under the heavy leather collar that cut into his neck. He swiped it away with a grunt.

Harry chomped onto the chain again, tugging the ends down as if it were a stale piece of taffy. The metal gave between his teeth. He was sure of it. Another chomp and his molars sunk into the links, leaving imprints.

Almost there!

Beads of sweat rolled down his face as he worked his jaws up and down, back and forth, tearing at it like a piece of meat. The muscles in his back bulged with heat as raw animal power shook his bones. His fingers curled, his filthy nails elongating into claws, and his teeth sharpened into fangs. The monster that he fought for so long would be a boon to him this time. He could bite through that damn chain, if he let it loose. Unfortunately, the silver against his teeth held the beast down. He nervously watched the door, waiting for someone to catch him in mid escape. He thrashed his head side to side, nostrils flaring, neck knotting.

Get mad! Get furious! Come on, Harry! Do something right for once!

He thought back to high school and the mocking laughter that had chased him from football tryouts. He forced himself to remember his father’s scathing disappointment when he said he didn’t want to take over the family business. Harry pushed himself to recall how he had been locked away in a filthy cell, beaten, tortured, and transformed into a damn monster. For what? A good laugh? Some sort of sick joke that he and the other screamers around him weren’t in on?

Then he remembered her.

Harry remembered how he had probably broke her heart because he was a stupid fucking coward. She was the only one who cared, the only one he trusted back in high school. It was the anger towards himself that pushed him over the edge.

Harry threw his head back with a roar, yanking the chain in his now dripping fangs. The sound of clinking metal filled his ears, falling around him in a crescendo. He opened his eyes, gaping at the broken links in his gnarled hands. His rage fled in a rush, and cold enveloped his core.

He spat out the broken silver before it burned his mouth further and then, as if testing his own sanity, slowly rose to his feet. No chain held him down. He could stand up straight. A mad cackle slipped from his lips and he slapped a hand over his mouth, hoping no one heard through the barrage of moans, shouts, and clanking shackles from the other cells. His attention shifted to the door.

No footsteps came from the other side. No rattle of keys frantically unlocking the bolts. He held his breath, reaching towards the scarred wood to press his palm against it. It wasn't like the door would have been unlocked all that time. Harry was pretty sure those bastards weren’t that stupid.

It moved.

The hinges creaked and a crack of light spilt across his bare feet. Heart pounding, he pushed the door an inch further. No one screamed stop. No one rushed to restrain him. It could have been a trick. Or it could have been some moron who forgot to lock the door. Harry swallowed, and he gave one last push. The door swung open.

He peeked into the hallway. It was dimly lit by glass bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The yellow light inside swirled with movement. Lightening bugs? He didn’t want to examine further, he just wanted to get the hell out.

The sounds of suffering were louder out in the hall and Harry pressed his hands over his ears, trying to block out the screams. No guards. Nothing. Still, he held his breath, unsure if his lucky break was just another form of torture. His cracked and bleeding feet padded across the freezing stone floor as he hurried, keeping a sharp look out for anyone who would stop his escape.

Not just anyone- him.

Harry watched for him with rock hard terror.

After running blindly down that wretched hallway, he climbed a winding staircase that led to another door. There was no way that it would also be-

The door swung open at first touch. Now, Harry was suspicious. Two doors conveniently unlocked could not be a coincidence. It wouldn’t be the first time he was led to believe he was free. Him, that fucker, loved to crush Harry either with his boots, or with sick psychological tricks. He trembled as that name echoed in his mind.

Rictous.

Just the thought of it made him break into a cold sweat. Harry trembled as that horrible name filled his thoughts. No. He wouldn’t say that name. He wouldn’t think it. Not after being forced to say it over and over. His shoulders bunched, and he stumbled outside to freedom.

The sunlight stung with its radiant thorns as he stepped out. After a long squint, he saw acres of wild, brimming with greenery. The soft touch of grass pressed against the soles of his feet, and the sweet smell of honeysuckle tickled his nose. Familiarity nudged him, and he knew that he had been here before. In the dark. Hunting. Thick trees disappeared into wispy pinkish clouds, and flowers exploded with color, vines crisscrossing in tangles over stone pillars. It was strange seeing it in the light of day.

Harry gulped. A chill wind cut across his naked body and he shivered, pushing his dreadlocked hair from his face. Sure, he knew these lands, but what stood beyond them? And what beyond that? More evil?

A screech made Harry’s skin jump two feet to the left and he looked up. A red-eyed crow stared down from its tree, head cocked to the side. Its scarlet tipped wings snapped open as it hopped across the branch in a spastic little dance. It let out another screech. Harry dove into the shrubs, waving his hands at the bird to tell it Shut the hell up! Much to his shock, it did. Then it jerked its sleek black head across the way.

Amongst the blooming clusters of red, yellow, and orange, stood a small slip of a girl, staring at him with wide-set blue eyes. With a twinge of embarrassment, Harry’s hands instantly covered his groin. The little girl didn’t seem shamed by his nudity and only tilted her head to the side, her wispy blonde hair sliding back to reveal a single, point-tipped ear. She was richly dressed in an emerald silk gown, encrusted with shimmering pearls and golden embroidery. The skirt and sleeves were scalloped, like leaves. And dammit, she would not stop staring at him. Harry cupped his groin tighter, afraid she was going to scream.

Um, hi, he said, his voice cracked and rusty from disuse.

The little girl gestured with a slender hand to follow her. Harry looked around quickly, finding only the two of them. A fang dug into his lower lip as he remained glued in place. The girl shook her head, clasping her hands patiently in front of her. He jumped with when the crow above him screamed, Safe! Safe! Safe!

Jeeze! Harry hissed.

The crow only screeched again, and jerked its head towards the girl.

Keeping his hands over his penis, he awkwardly trotted after her. She was fast, and he worked hard to keep up as she cut through the thickets and briars as if they weren’t even there. Much to his disgust, the bestial instinct took over and soon he was running, swift and sure. Thorns scratched his flesh and rocks stubbed his toes but he clamped down the pain. Escape felt so close.

When the girl came to a halt, he almost slammed right into her. She waved a hand and a crack of light spit the air before them. It grew, pulling open to reveal a suburban backyard on the other side. Oh God, that was a house. An old Victorian with an overgrown lawn and a fence. A house that could be full of people. Normal people, not pointy-eared nut jobs.

What? How? Harry gulped.

His throat stung as hot, nervous saliva trickled its way down. He looked back to the girl who stared at him again with those huge eyes. They were an unworldly blue, deep as sapphires, shimmering with an unseen light. She didn’t answer, but pointed through the freshly made portal. Was it escape? A trap? Couldn’t be worse than where he was, could it?

Thank you, he said.

Sweat dribbled warm down his dirt stained cheeks. His chest constricted and he had to force air to his lungs to keep from keeling over. The girl gestured to him to come closer to her, her lips pursed into a tight line.

Harry hesitated, his entire body shaking with adrenaline. He wanted was to run through that portal and never look back but her determined frown made him lean towards her. Tiny fingers brushed the leather collar around his neck and it clicked open, falling to the ground with a dull thump. Her breath was cold as she whispered:

Protect her.

Harry blinked. Who? he asked.

Far behind them a raucous voice bellowed, Wolf! I know where you’re hiding!

It was Rictous.

Harry straightened, his hackles rising. Horror webbed across his back, his muscles bunching as that low smooth voice repeated What’s my name? over and over again in his mind.

First there was panic. Then there was hatred. Hatred for what Rictous made him feel and made him do. Harry’s fangs began to sharpen, and the hair on the back of his neck rose as the monster inside him began to take over. He needed to taste blood, longed to feel flesh tear beneath his growing claws. But before he could act, the girl pushed him through the portal with startling strength. Harry tumbled like a heavy stone until he landed in a soft patch of un-mowed lawn. When he looked back up, the portal had vanished, nothing but a pinprick of white hanging in the air. The bright sunshine was gone, replaced with a dimming violet haze. It was dusk, the sky fading from orange, to purple, to black.

The sound of passing cars made his ears perk and the smell of grass, gasoline, and electricity hit him in the face like a baseball bat, almost sending him to his knees. He could smell people on the sidewalk past the fence; the scent of their deodorant and the rubber on the soles of their shoes. One was chewing gum. Tutti-Frutti.

Oh God. People. Other people!

A peel of hysterical laughter screeched from his lips. He’d made it out. Granted, he had no idea where he was, but he was positive that it was his world. Harry spun around, finding himself in the backyard he’d gazed at through the portal; a shaggy lawn, a deck in bad need of sanding, and an aluminum tool shed his only company. The lights of the house were out, giving him the impression that no one was home.

Oh sweet Jesus, yes! Harry screamed, grabbing fistfuls of his dirty hair.

His legs gave way as the last of his energy evaporated and he fell into the grass, reveling in the soft blades tickling his cheek. If he could kiss the damn lawn, he would. Instead he ran his hand across it, savoring each stem that touched his palm. He needed to get up. Get up, knock on those double glass doors, and beg whoever lived there to call 911 for him.

The beast deep inside him began to growl. Harry lurched, feeling his body swell. Fangs pricked his mouth and his spine started to groan as it twisted and grew.

Not now! Please!

His hands shook, as he tried to wipe away the fur that sprouted over his chest. But he wasn’t even angry. Why now? He looked skyward.

The dim silver light of the crescent moon bathed his face, and made chaos dance inside him. Harry stumbled backwards, to escape the moon’s pull, breaths ragged and frantic. He needed to find some sort of shelter, anything to block out the view above.

He sprinted for the tool shed. His feet elongated until he was balanced on the balls. His hands exploded into giant paws. The door was almost wrenched right off its hinges as he dove inside, slamming it shut with a metallic clang that rang in his now pointed and fur-crusted ears. The moonlight was shut out and his monster form fell away. His body returned. Peace returned. Well, somewhat. That thing still bubbled just under the surface, waiting for him to step outside. Harry crumpled in a dusty corner of the shed, curling into a tight ball.

From one cell to another. Fuck, he muttered, pressing his cheek against the aluminum wall.

The stench of oil and dried grass brought him little comfort, and he hugged his bare chest. He peered through the narrow crack of the door, staring at the dark windows of the Victorian home in longing. His lower lip quivered as he was dunked under another wave of frustration.

Harry wanted to give up, maybe live in the shed the rest of his life. But he was so close to freedom. He’d wait until morning. Obviously the moon was making him lose control, but in the sunlight he’ll be fine, right? He would be normal. Well, sort of normal. He was still filthy, starving, and nude but that was salvageable.

Harry’s stomach gurgled in protest. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate, but food would have to wait. Tomorrow morning he’d go to the house and beg for help... and maybe a sandwich. A sigh rattled his chilled body.

A sandwich, he said. A sandwich. A telephone. Pants. Home. He repeated the mantra until his muscles went lax.

Exhaustion shrouded him and he fought it for a good hour before he gave into the void. Harry gave one last shudder, praying that when he woke up, he would still be huddled in that dirty shed and not back in that tiny cell. Before sleep took him, he heard the girl’s voice in his ear.

Protect her.

The drive to follow through on that request pulsed inside him. He’d protect her, whoever she was.

Chapter 2

HOW MANY TIMES DO I have to tell you, Val? I’ll be fine!

Phoebe rolled her eyes, but not too hard since she was driving. It was a short trip to the San Diego Airport but Phoebe was a nervous driver when her older sister, Valerie was in the car. Hell hath no fury like an overbearing half Valkyrie sister.

I have my last final after I drop you off then I’m going to chill out for a bit. Then I’ll catch up with you guys, Phoebe said.

I just don’t like the idea of you being alone in the house for two weeks, Valerie said. She flipped her black ponytail over her shoulder then turned to the backseat to face her fiancé, Matthew. Don’t you think that after all the shit that went down last year we should still stick together?

Phoebe looked into the review mirror at Matthew, who was thankfully shaking his head. She fought her smug expression. At least her soon to be brother-in-law was taking her side. Thank God Valerie brought that one home. Granted, she used to bring men home all the time, but this one fell in love with her and stuck around. Matthew not only stuck around, but filled Phoebe’s older sister with useful things like rational thought and calmness.

Valerie Marie, I think you may be overreacting, Matthew said, a smile ghosting his mouth. She is an adult.

Twenty-seven years old to be exact, Phoebe pointed out.

Valerie snorted, her lips screwed up into a little sneer. You’re still a baby, she said.

I am not! Phoebe snapped.

Are too.

Ladies, Matthew said. If we plan to compare ages, you are both infants in my eyes.

His words made them both go silent. Well, the Nephilim was over a millennium old so either Matthew was robbing the cradle or Valerie was robbing the grave.

Ew.

She really didn’t need to think about those two doing it, but Valerie took great delight in reminding her. In great detail. Usually over dinner.

Valerie folded her arms across her chest with a sigh. It’s been a while since we’ve all been apart like this.

Phoebe shook her head, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. No. You went up to visit Adelle and Jack two years ago and left me alone. I didn’t even have my powers then, and I was just fine.

Valerie’s robust laugh threatened to shatter the windshield. You still ended up getting spooned by a bear and Reina had to come bail you out.

A... bear? Matthew asked. His dark eyebrow arched high in the review mirror.

Phoebe’s face burned hot and she slumped down in her seat. I handled it!

You handled it by frantically dialing Adelle with your nose, and crying until Reina showed up, Valerie said. She choked on a giggle. You made the leader of the West Coast vampire clans drop a council meeting to chase a bear off you.

Phoebe had no retort for that. After all, she was right. When her Dryad powers had manifested for the first time, they had called a bear into the backyard. Where the bear came from, and where it went after Reina hypnotized it away, was a complete mystery. And thus, her power to communicate with animals came to be. Now, Phoebe could control nature. Well, most of it. The plants were easy to manipulate but the animals were still giving her some trouble. Great, now she felt even more insecure.

Instead of a witty retort, Phoebe dug her knuckle into Valerie’s arm.

Ow! Quit it! Valerie said, slapping her hand away.

Phoebe slapped her hand back, beating her sister with tiny frantic swats while struggling to steer. Val! I’m driving!

You started it!

Matthew groaned. I assumed we were going to see a baby when we reached Washington, Valerie Marie. Not on the way to the airport.

As if scolded, Valerie straightened in her seat, smoothing the stray raven hairs from her face. So not cool, Matt, she said.

Phoebe cackled. "Ha! Now who’s the baby?"

In dignified Valerie fashion, she flipped Phoebe the bird. And in typical Phoebe reaction, she stuck her tongue out as a rebuttal. Shortly afterwards, a giggle snorted from Phoebe’s nose and Valerie started cackling until she shook from head to toe.

Valerie and Matthew were on their way to visit their other sister, Adelle. She, and her dragon mate, Jack, had their first baby, a redheaded hellion named Fiona. Fiona- a nine-month old dragon/human/siren hybrid- was not even walking and already a menace, judging by Adelle’s phone calls. They usually ended with a crash, Jack roaring, Stop, Fiona! Stop! Adelle, the curtains are on fire! followed by Adelle saying, Gotta go bye! and disconnecting the call.

Valerie had decided Adelle needed reinforcements, and planned to spend a few weeks up north with Matthew to get things under control. Valerie was a good leader when it came to keeping the now infamous Constance sisters in order, but she had as much knowledge about babies as Phoebe did. That meant none whatsoever. At least babies liked Phoebe. Valerie usually ran screaming at the sight of infant spew. They aimed for her. Poor Adelle would probably be stuck watching after her daughter and her older sister during this grand family reunion.

You’ll take pictures right? Phoebe asked. Lots of them?

I’ll text the hell out of you with them all week. Valerie smiled. And don’t forget to get your flight soon. Oh, and pack shorts. Adelle said it’s a warm summer up there. And don’t forget-

Val! I know! I made a list!

Phoebe tried to laugh but her left eye began to twitch, followed by her cheeks freezing into a tight smile. Thank God she managed to convince her sisters into letting her fly up two weeks later. She loved them with all her heart, but the idea of having all that freedom was just too much to turn away. She couldn’t remember the last time she was truly on her own. Oh, that was probably because it never happened before.

Valerie put her hands up in surrender. Look. I’m worried. It’s only been a year since the whole mage incident.

Incident? Phoebe snorted. We destroyed a cabal of evil mages. I’m pretty sure that is more like epic!

Valerie smirked. "Pheebs, we have a rep in this city, now. Before, we were just Mom’s half-bloods that fought the occasional rogue goblin or vampire. Now the Wyrd is paying attention. Paying really close attention. Her expression went grave. And Wyrd beings like to slap their chests. Word has spread. They could be looking to kick Constance sister ass just for the hell of it."

Phoebe sunk her teeth into her lower lip, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Despite having Dryad blood coursing through her veins - which made her quite the powerhouse with all things flora and fauna - her experience in the Wyrd was limited to books, meeting other Wyrd, and a two year crash course in how to use her powers. Controlling nature and having a kinship with animals got easier every time she tried, but it came from a lot of trial and error.

I’ll be fine, Phoebe said. The conviction in her voice was shaky as Valerie’s skeptical gaze tore into her. I mean it! You said the wards on the house are solid, Reina is a phone call away, and I can totally defend myself now. I can call my woodland brethren to defend me to the death.

Valerie rubbed her forehead with a sigh. You only have one squirrel in your army, and that’s only because you keep feeding him.

Phoebe jabbed a finger towards Valerie. Don’t you rag on King Thorin of the Golden Nuts! He’s majestic!

He was also the only animal Phoebe could get under her magical control. Sometimes. Well, not very often, really, but he did like to chat.

Phoebe pulled up to the terminal, hopping out of the driver’s seat to help Matthew with their suitcases. Matthew gave Phoebe a gentle pat on her shoulder, leaning his tall frame down to her.

I have faith that you will be just fine on your own, little one, he said.

Phoebe smiled at him. Thanks, Matt. Though you’re supposed to have faith. You’re an angel.

Nephilim, now, he corrected with patience.

Sorry. Yeah, that. Phoebe blushed and giggled. Her sister’s mates always made her blush. They were so damn hunky and loved her like they would their own sister, only not as overbearing as Valerie and Adelle. Just be sure to play interference with Val for me, all right?

Matthew nodded with a warm smile, pressing a hand against her shoulder. She only acts so because she cares. But yes, I will do my best.

Valerie butted between them, and grabbed Phoebe into a fierce hug. Good luck on your final and enjoy the quiet time, she said. I’ll give Dell your love and eat Fiona’s baby toes for you.

Save one baby toe for me! Phoebe laughed.

Valerie looked at her one more time as she picked up her bag, brow wrinkled, lips pursed. But when she opened her mouth, Phoebe put a hand up and quickly said, Bye Val! Bye Matt! Love you! then dashed back to car. Matthew and Valerie waved then disappeared into the terminal as she sped off.

Freedom! Phoebe shouted. She pumped her fists in the air, then quickly snatched the steering wheel, before she careened into a bush. She grinned and headed off to school.

Phoebe aced her history final before the allotted time, which gave her an entire afternoon to do whatever she wanted. That meant a quick jaunt to Balboa Park to recharge her Dryad batteries. The vibrant trees and fragrant gardens brought energy to her veins and she kicked off her shoes to stroll across the well-manicured lawns, Earth’s power pulsing beneath her toes. She closed her eyes and reached out to the life around her, hearing it whispering in a language only she understood.

Phoebe meandered towards the rose garden, following its circular path to the gazebo that sat at its center. Usually, she planted herself on one of the benches and played with the roses, making them open and close at her will. Unfortunately, a couple had occupied her space, making gaga faces at each other.

They giggled and cooed, the female moving close towards the male, rubbing her thigh against his. Phoebe tried not to pay attention to them, and turned away whenever there was the soft sound of a delicate kiss. Sure, it was their business to be disgustingly affectionate towards each other, but the display was making Phoebe’s teeth itch. Memories bombarded her like they always did when she saw couples in love. They returned when Adelle and Jack embraced. They returned when Valerie and Matthew murmured secrets to each other. Each time they returned, she asked the same question.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Phoebe’s relationships could be counted on one hand.

On one finger, actually.

One.

It was just one guy.

One guy who made her heart do little back flips. Phoebe had fallen in love with him and dammit, he was perfect; handsome, funny, and a little bit of a dork which really suited her. He also ran away after they had sex for the first time. Like, right after. And that’s how she'd lost her virginity. The last thing she ever expected was to wake up in empty bed with a wad of twenties on the nightstand. For cab fare, his note read.

Her gut twisted into a tight knot, almost forcing the tacos she ate earlier right onto her shoes. Her lower lip quivered, and Phoebe sucked in a hard breath, hurrying past the couple. She spared them a quick glance, hoping they didn’t catch her sudden onslaught of emotion, when she noticed the female. Phoebe jerked to a halt, her head whipping back to take a good long look. Buried under thick brunette curls was a delicate pointed ear tip.

The female grinned at her man as he smoothed his fingers over that ear, and Phoebe’s trembling hand reached up, touching her own. She was a fae, just like her. Probably not a Dryad, considering her coloring, but definitely fae.

Ever since her ears grew pointed, Phoebe kept them hidden under her hair, even from most of the Wyrd. They made her feel different from her sisters. Strange. After Phoebe manifested her Dryad powers she longed to find another like her so she could bombard them with questions like, what the heck happened to her birth parents.

Before she could stop herself, Phoebe’s bare feet pounded towards the couple, her bulky clod hopper boots clutched in a death grip. The brunette fae looked up with wide, brown eyes as she approached with all the subtlety of a garbage truck. With a quick hop, the female leapt to her feet, grabbing her mate’s hand to make an escape.

Wait! Phoebe said. I’m like you, see? She pushed her hair back, showing her ears. I have so many questions. Can we just-

Sorry, the female fae said. Her gaze darted everywhere but on Phoebe. "Sorry, but we have