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

well the implications of what I'm asking.  “How dare you come to this place!  How dare you pick a rose!  How dare you break its stem!  Do you not understand that you must ask leave of me!?”
         Lovely’s fingers loosen around the rose as terror slackens her muscles.  Those fae green eyes chase her crimson sin as it falls to the ground.  Then she stares at me, as if she can’t believe I am real.
         I tighten my grasp, drawing her attention to my hand shackled around her wrist, reassuring her that I am no dream.  “Speak up.”
         Her lips tremble as her gaze widens on me, her throat bobs hard before speaking.  “T-this land isn't yours.  It's under my father's care.  H-he’s the principal of Mary Magda.  I can pick a rose whenever I like.  I-I don't need to ask your permission.”
         So close, her voice is like a folded melody that purrs over my skin and tickles my nerve endings.  There is something calming about that voice, something that makes me want to breathe a sigh of relief, like a weight lifted.  The muscles in my shoulders relax and my grip on her wrist weakens.  My fingers stroke her delicate skin.  I shouldn't want to rub my fingers along the pulse in her wrist, but the urge seems so natural – an assertion that she’s as real as me.
         Lovely glances at my hand and her breath catches like I've somehow wronged her.  Her eyes flash back to me, wild and alive.  She wrenches herself out of my grip and struggles away, backing until she’s flush with a tree. “W-who are you?” she demands.
         I cock my head and give her a disbelieving look.  Who does this upstart maid think she is?  The Queen of the Fae?  Certainly not.  I don’t have to answer to her demands, so I don’t.
         Her attention flies around the glade, as if searching for escape or a weapon.  When she speaks again, her tone is cautious and certain.  “You're that Green Man everyone is talking about, aren't you?”
         I toss a dramatic glance at my arm.  “I am rather green.”  Roxel's magic does that to me, protects me, gives me strength.  None of the ladies before this one bothered to complain.
         Her voice hiccups with fear as she says, “W-what do you want?”
         I give her my best angry look, even though I can't seem to stay as mad with her as I have a right to be.  I use my words instead, trying to make my voice sound sharp as obsidian.  “Do you have any idea what you've done?  What you've cost me?”
         She purses her lips and looks down at the rose.  “It's just a wild rose.”
         My anger flares again and in the next moment I've got my knife to her pale, swan-like neck.
         The tendons in her neck strain and her throat wobbles in fear.  “What are you doing?” she squeaks.
         “Just a rose, just a pretty maiden's head.  I'd say they’re equal,” I growl.  My hand is shaking.  Normally I have a steady, precise hand.  It's not like I haven't slit a throat before.  I squeeze the hilt until my muscles lock and my knuckles go white.
         A scoff escapes her throat.  “Are you crazy?” Her voice is shrill, the only indication of her fear because her face is now strong.  She’s a good actress.
         Smirking, I press the knife a little harder against her fair flesh.  I won’t cut her, it would be a sin to mar such lovely flesh or to punish such bravery.  When faced with my knife, most people beg and cry…This girl wants to know if I’m crazy.  You could grow to like a girl like that.
         “Okay,” she breathes.  “It’s some kind of rare, expensive rose.  I get it.”  Though her face is cool, she sounds half hysterical.  I can almost see her brain working her out of this.  “I'll pay you back for it.  Just let me go back to my house and-”
         “You're trying to run away,” I cut in, pressing the knife harder to her throat until she’s practically molded