Read For Your Heart (Hill Dweller Retellings) for Free Online

Otherworld, but we don’t age past maturity.  I don’t understand why the hours tick by differently or why we don’t age.  I daresay I’m centuries old but don’t look much older than Lovely. 
         Another reason for the mind-fog is that moving between worlds addles the brain and plays tricks on time-memory.  Yesterday seems like three years ago while ten years ago seem like now.  I know this girl from my morning rounds, this I know to be truth.  The familiarity must come from the time-memory confusion – she’s familiar to me like all the people who are my neighbors are.
         I run my fingers over the ribbon, glad this particular neighbor finally decided to come for a visit – even if it took the faeries chasing her here to do it.  Normally, I only ask pretty visitors for a trinket.  But, she has already given me a souvenir, so I'll ask for a favor instead…a kiss.
         And then...I'll ask for more.  I want more from her.  I'd like to touch her flawless, angelic skin, I’d like to wrap my fist around her hair, tug on it ever so gently – exposing that long, swan neck of hers.  I’ve had a long time to add to the list of things I want from Lovely.  She’s been teasing me for years, living at the edge of my forest but never coming in, and I think my requests fair.
         She spins around again and again, like an animal caught – so fast that her skirt flits around her waist and I'm disappointed to find, instead of the colorful, string-like undergarments I'm used to when mortal girls visit me, she's wearing shorts.
         Oh well, I'm sure they’ll come off just as easily .  Besides, the modest undergarment gives her an air of mystery that makes her more alluring.
         I slip down the oak and kneel behind the trunk of a white pine.  She has stopped spinning and is now pacing forward, her eyes scanning the ground like she's looking for something.  Then she stops and I see what she sees.  Everything inside me freezes solid.  I fight to breathe, I fight to stop her, but I can't move.  She steps forward and crouches in front of one of Roxel’s precious jewels.
         No, don't touch the roses.
         She reaches out and her fingers delicately trace the deep red petals of the tallest, most beautiful rose.  A delicious shiver dances up my spine.  The look on her face is enough to shock my heart back into beating and I draw in an awed breath.  She’s so beatific and enrapt that I’m entranced by her pleasure.  I never knew a woman could look at something with such innocent, unbridled pleasure.  Her eyes go liquid and her cheeks flush a shade pinker, her warmth spreads through my veins like a summer's breeze.  Her lips part ever so slightly, like she's expecting a kiss – one I’m more than willing to give. Then I hear it:
         Snap
         I blink and my eyes trace the smooth length of her arm.  She's got the rose's stem in her hand, but the stem no longer reaches into the ground.  Inch by inch, the space between the flower and dirt grows until Lovely has the petals against her soft lips and, eyes closed, savors the scent of the faerie queen's sacred bloom.
         For a moment, the simple act sends a primal ripple of pleasure slithering over my skin.  But then my mind takes hold and my heart gallops wild, fear eating my intestines like a rabid wolf. What is Roxel going to do to me?  I’m to protect her roses, that’s why she sent me to patrol Carver Hall Park.  What will I do?  She's going to kill me.
         Suddenly, I'm filled with hatred for this tantalizing but destructive human girl.  She couldn't appreciate the beauty before her, she had to destroy it.  Why should I die on account of her folly? 
         Before I realize what I'm doing, I let out a roar and leap through the underbrush.  I grasp her by her treacherous hand, throw her to the ground, and hold her there. 
         “What have you done!?” I demand, knowing full