Caged: A Fae Fantasy Romance (Fae Magic Book 4)

by Jessica Aspen

  They’d visited the dragon home world, Doyle’s home world. How closely were the dragon and Doyle tied? She hadn’t noticed a dragon embedded into his spine, a spine that was raised and not flat. But then again, she’d been distracted. It could have been hidden under the hair at the nape of his neck.

  Would she change into something like Doyle? Would she slowly become more dragon-like, getting slit pupils and a raised spine? Would she be bound by the same rules as he, committed to support whatever cause the scaly beast decided was his?

  Right or wrong?

  DOYLE STALKED OUT INTO the night and opened a portal not even caring where he went but knowing if he didn’t get away, he would run back into the cave and tell Siobhan everything.

  How he had no way to save his little queen. How Bosco was safe for now, but was on his way to confront the queen. How the queen had her tentacles into his very own magic. And finally, how he was afraid he’d destroy everything when he was so desperately trying to save it.

  The portal spit him out in a seedy downtown where the electric lights blared in a wild ceiling overhead, louder than the music pouring from the doors. Good. Exactly what he needed. He went into the first bar he could find, a place where no one cared and he could get drunk. And forget.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The trip to find the dwarf took longer than Ardan wanted. Normally the queen had portal spells to counter-balance the effect of the northern lights. But with enemies riding in she’d taken all those down. He’d had to ride miles south to get to a place where he could set his own shielding spells and even attempt to open a portal. And it had been dicey, even with the shields. But now, hours later, he was finally approaching the area where the pines crept up the slopes of the foothills of the Cairngloss mountains, too near the stronghold of the dragon for his liking. But this was where Ringwold reportedly lived, and so this was where he had come.

  The area was rough with jagged rocks and more trees than he was used to. It was dense with animal life and the feel of old magic was in the air. He cautiously approached the cabin where the dwarf was supposed to live. Dwarves were known to sabotage any approaches to their dwellings, but he arrived at the path to the cabin’s door without any issues. A fact that put him on edge.

  The cabin was built of aged wood but appeared to be in good shape with white lace curtains at the window and a bird feeder, empty of birds, swinging by the front door. It was the front door, freshly painted the color of blood, that had Ardan’s own blood run cold.

  He drew his cloak about him and checked the shadows nearby for signs of an ambush before dismounting. None of the old men had said Ringwold was a red-cap, but now, looking at the door, almost oozing with life, he wasn’t sure. Red-caps were ferocious hunters. They ate what they killed—be it elvatian, dwarven, or otherwise. They especially liked to come into homes at night and had been known to murder entire families of fae asleep in their beds.

  Whatever dispute Maeve had had with Ringwold, Ardan wished he knew the details of it now. Maeve was a twisted woman, but even she would draw the line at eating children.

  The worn stones of the path had a wide sunny approach that narrowed in as they drew closer to that door. It all seemed like the pretty trappings of a spider’s web, and it gave him the shivers.

  He stopped a good ten feet from the door and called out, “Hello. Anybody home?”

  “Don’t ye come any closer or ye’ll be sorry.” The sour words were exactly what one would expect from a dwarf, red-cap or not.

  “I’m here to hire you.”

  “I know why ye’re here. I’m not interested. Now scat.”

  He kept his expression smooth and hid the surprise. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going. “If you weren’t interested, you’d never have let me get this close. Why don’t you at least come out and hear my offer.”

  The door to the cabin creaked open, and a large bulbous nose, surrounded by more facial hair than Ardan had ever seen, emerged. Two beady black eyes scrutinized him from under what appeared to be a single thick eyebrow. “State your business.”

  Ardan opened his mouth to speak.

  “Nope, not interested.” The nose disappeared and the door slammed shut.

  “Wait! I’ll pay. Gold. Silver.” The door stayed closed. “Name your price.

  It eased open again and the nose reappeared. “Well now. Name my price?”

  “Yes.” It was rash, but he didn’t have time to bargain. He had to get this project done before the queen decided he’d failed.

  “Now, I’m not saying what you want to do can be done. But...if it could be. Or even if it can’t, I’d need to be paid.”

  “You’ll be paid.”

  “You’d swear on it?”

  “If you come with me, and if you complete the job within a week, you’ll get paid. If you fail, but truly do your best to get the job done, you’ll be paid something. Not the full amount, of course, but a more than fair price.”

  “Not worth it to go work for the bitch of the north.” The slim opening narrowed.

  “Wait.” The queen had put him in charge and if he failed, she’d see he paid the penalty. Any price was worth the chance. “Tell me what you want. I may be able to do more.”

  “I want the dragon bones.”

  Ardan felt his mouth drop open. “You want what?”

  “Ye heard me. I want the bones.”

  “I can’t give you those. We need them for the job.”

  “You don’t need them all. They’re hard to come by and working with cold iron is dangerous. I want the bones left over from the job. All of them. Or I won’t do it.”

  “I’ll go find another dwarf.”

  “No, ye won’t. There’s none as will work for her, after what she did. You’ll deal with me, or no deal.”

  It was what the old men had said and what he’d expected. “How do you know about the bones.”

  “I has my ways.” The door opened an inch wider. “Do we have a deal?”

  The bones were not his to bargain with, but he knew the queen. Controlling Atavantador was worth any price.

  “We do.” He might regret it, but he had to have the means to control the dragon. He could feel the dwarf’s suspicion filling the yard between them “But you’ll only get what’s not used, not an ounce more. And you have to have the job finished—chains, net, all of it—in a week’s time. Or you get nothing.”

  He had no idea if the dwarf could do this in a week. The best Tuathan craftsmen of the north had failed.

  Ringwold snorted. “Easy.”

  “Can I ask how?”

  “I don’t ask how you stay so tall, do I? Now, skedaddle.”

  “I’ll open a portal and take you to the palace.” Or as close to it as they could get.

  “No. I have to get my tools. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  “How will you do that? Dwarves can’t work portals and it’s a long journey.”

  “I has my ways.” The door slammed shut. Debris fell from the thatched roof, filling Ardan’s lungs with dust and causing him to cough.

  He remounted his horse, wondering if he’d made the right call. If anything went wrong the queen would have his balls in a vice. And, unlike when he was the Winter King, he was sure it wouldn’t have any of the associated pleasure.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Siobhan put on all of her gear that she owned and packed her knapsack with whatever would travel. A pitiful small amount, but it was what she had. Doyle wouldn’t help her. He’d made that more than clear. Whether that was because he was loyal to Atavantador or because he was twined in some spell of his own making like she was, she didn’t know.

  What she did know was that the dragon in her neck had given her powers she might only have for a short while. She had to get out of here and find Bosco before either the dragon decided to take the power back, or she tore the thing out of her neck herself.

  She didn’t think the tattoo was dangerous, but she didn’t know. Some magical artifacts were st
ronger the longer they had you in their clutches. It could be that it would bind her tighter and tighter the longer she held it, until she found it so precious she’d never let it go. That would be horrible. And given the amount of trouble she was in now, she needed the power to act. The question was one of balance. Use it, and maybe get addicted to the power? Or not use it, and be unable to take on Maeve. She had to take the chance and act now and hope that if it were one of those types of talismans that she’d be able to let it go. Bosco was more important than her freedom from the power. Those boys the queen would take in the future were more important.

  Leaving her quarters she set out down the long gnome-carved caverns. This was a huge complex and there had to be a way she could get out—despite her own magical vow keeping her prisoner. Maybe, she couldn’t go down the mountain, but she could go out the front door. It was a slim chance, but she had to try.

  Eight hours later, tired and depressed beyond measure, she dragged herself back into the room. She collapsed on the bed, barely taking the time to kick off her boots and pack. She’d walked miles of hard rock floor. Found the treacherous crystal cave where the gnomes’ pool first sang to her, and then screamed of dark magic. Found the rotting bodies of fallen goblins littering the floor of the upper place kitchen and down the hall. Tasted the web of magic that wound over the entire mountain in a spell meant to trap a prince, but that had failed, since the prince was nowhere to be seen.

  She’d used her enhanced magic to find the large main entrance at one end of a dusty grand hall. And another escape hatch hidden in the walls, where she’d had to climb over and around fallen rocks. And finally, near the kitchens, a door that opened into a wide canyon pasture where the gnomes, and then the goblins that had moved in later, must have kept live food before slaughter.

  But what she hadn’t been able to do was leave.

  She was fast asleep when the door opened. Light streamed in from the hallway, waking her up.

  “Siobhan, are you in here?”

  “Doyle?” She sat up and lit the candle.

  “Shh, don’t tell him I’m here.” Doyle staggered into the room.

  “Don’t tell who?” She got out of bed and helped him to sink into one of the wing chairs.

  “Anyone. Don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.” He sprawled in the chair, his long arms and legs falling to the side, his head resting on the back at an odd angle.

  Understanding dawned. “You’re drunk.”

  “Yes I am.” He gave her a wink. “It’s the only way I can cope with what I want to do.”

  “Come on. You can sleep it off here.” He grinned at her, and the sex in his grin had her warming deep down in her center. She frowned back at him. “On the couch.”

  He flopped back into the chair, that knowing grin still on his face. “Of course. Whatever my lady wants.”

  What her body wanted and what her brain wanted were two distinctly different things. She repressed the thought that she could share the bed with him tonight and still keep to her high horse and pulled off his boots. Kneeling down at his feet, she worked on the zipper to his jeans. Just touching him here was too intimate. To distract herself, she kept talking. “What’s so dreadful that you have to get drunk in order to deal with it?”

  “I want to spend the night with you.” He reached out and stroked her hair back from her face, the heat of his touch scorching her skin. “I want to feel your skin on mine. I want to take you, all of you—your lips, your mouth, your heart.”

  She froze her fingers still on his half-pulled zipper and stared into his eyes. His lids were dropped down, giving him a sultry sleepy look, but the intensity in his gaze burned. “You left here unwilling to help me.”

  “I’m willing. Gods shame me for how willing I am.” He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his chest. She half fell across his lap. “If I could bring you the moons from all the worlds and that would make you happy, I’d do it.” He gave her a big smacking kiss, right on the top of her head.

  She giggled. “You are definitely drunk.”

  “But what you want is impossible, so I am doomed.” He turned her hand palm up, tracing the lines with a light finger. “Can you forgive me?” He brushed his mouth against the center of her palm, and shivers ran up her arm. Her body hummed with anticipation. “If you only knew, Siobhan. If you only understood. Then you would know.”

  “That makes no sense.” She pushed herself up and off his lap. He couldn’t or wouldn’t help her, but given the warmth sweeping her body, she still wanted him. She should just leave him there to sleep it off in the chair. She started to move away, but his gaze kept her pinned.

  “Do you trust that if I could help without betraying my own vows, I would?”

  He was stuck. Just like she was. She’d made her own vow without thought—how could she not understand?

  “Yes.”

  He pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her, every stroke of his tongue laced with desperation. Her pulse sped up and she poured her own desperation into the kiss.

  She pulled away, shaken. She touched her lips and stared at him.

  He was the dragon’s loyal servant. He wouldn’t help her. But he’d been everything to her since she’d gotten here. He’d shown her a world of magic where she could fight on a level playing field with the rulers of her world. He’d given her the ability to right the wrongs she saw. He’d touched her. He’d made her laugh. Made her cry.

  And now, he was showing her, with every touch, every caress, every word he couldn’t say, that he cared about her. She cared about him, far more than she should.

  She had to get out of here, even if it betrayed him. Even if it meant she was forsworn.

  But she’d take tonight.

  She dove back into the kiss. His hands were everywhere, roaming her back and squeezing her ass. He tugged at her belt. “You’re wearing too many clothes. Take this off.”

  She’d nearly forgotten she was still dressed from her excursion. She stood up and unbuckled the belt, pulling it loop by loop from her waist.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” He leaned back in his chair, a slow smile lighting up his face. “Take off the shirt.”

  A hot flush crept up her throat, but she unbuttoned each button, one at a time. She pulled the lapels wide.

  “You don’t have anything else on under that.” The light from the single candle flickered hot in his eyes. She pulled the shirt off, leaving her in nothing but her skin.

  “I’m small breasted. I’ve never needed much.”

  “You’re perfect. I love your breasts.” He leaned forward and grabbed the tail of her shirt, tugging it off of her shoulders and using the loop of the cloth to tug her closer. His mouth closed on her nipple. She gasped, and her head went back.

  He sucked it in and out, working first that nub, and then the other, until her knees gave. She fell forward onto him, his hands giving her support on her trip down. His mouth stayed on her nipple until it pulled from his mouth.

  She ended up on her knees between his thighs, looking up at him. “I never finished taking off your pants.”

  He arched his hips and helped her wiggle the jeans off. He was hard and ready for her, and she leaned down and licked. His cock was hot, the tip slightly wet. She took the shaft in her hand and held it, sliding her mouth up and down.

  He leaned back, his eyes half-closed, watching her. She sucked hard, and his eyes slammed shut. He arched up, gasping, pushing harder into her mouth. She took what she could, then slid her mouth back off. Up and down, slick in her hand, in her mouth.

  His hands laced through her hair. “Come here.” He pulled her up to standing. “Take these off.” She shimmied out of the rest of her clothing, kicking it to the side and climbing onto his lap. She took his cock and guided it into her. It was wet from her mouth and she used the moisture to slide it in.

  “Oh,” she said. “Oh my.” Her sheath was tight, nearly too tight. She rode up and down, widening with each push, taking more and more of his l
ength until she had him deep within.

  The pleasure built fast and hard, as if everything between them had to be taken now, in large bites. As if their bodies knew that this would be the last time. And it would be the last time.

  She held his shoulders, riding him as her ecstasy built and she came, pushing down hard, taking more and more of him until he filled her. She stopped moving, wanting to hold still and feel this moment. She might never see him again if she could get away from here. She looked at him. His hair had fallen down over his forehead, giving him a careless look. But he was far from careless. If anything, he cared too much.

  Doyle’s fingers dug into her hips, moving her up and down, faster and faster. His cock moved and he arched his back. “Ah, Siobhan. That’s it.” He came and she came with him, tumbling down into another orgasm, needing the feel of him deep inside.

  Moving off of him was one of the most difficult things she’d ever done. She wanted to stay close to him and never have to go, but she eventually moved. They stumbled to the bed and curled up together, her back to his front, his arms holding her tight.

  His mouth was right next to her ear. She twisted and kissed his mouth, curling back onto her side. “I wish I could help you,” she whispered. “I wish I could release you from these vows that hold you back.”

  “I cannot be released,” he mumbled, his words filled with sleep. “Too much is at stake.”

  “Well then, I wish I could be released, then I’d figure out how to help you too.”

  “Yours is easy.” He sighed, his voice growing quieter as he slipped into sleep. “You can get out any time you want to.”

  She stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  He snored. She turned to face him and gave him a little shake. “Doyle, tell me how I can get out.”

  “Shh, I’m asleep.” He was sinking fast into the heavy sleep of someone who’d had too much to drink followed by really good sex.

  She shook him again. “Tell me, how can I get out?”