Seducing the Sun Fae

by Rebecca Rivard

  “I have an idea, Dion.” She leaned forward, hands on her thighs. “I think I know a way for your people to regain their energy.”

  “Yes?” he replied in a flat, unencouraging tone. As her captive, he had no choice but to listen, but the rivers would flow backward before he’d trust the deceitful queen again.

  She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Not like this, with you trapped in that net. Give me your word that you’ll stay within the compound until the midsummer ritual and not try to communicate with your clan, and I’ll free you from the net.”

  “And after the ritual? What then?”

  “You’ll be free to go.”

  “That’s it?” He eyed her closely, his mind probing for loopholes, tricks. “I remain here for two days and then I can leave?”

  “Yes. That’s it. I swear on everything I hold holy that you’ll be free to leave after the ritual.”

  “My people will be worried. They’ll try to rescue me whether or not I contact them.”

  “You can let them know about our bargain but nothing else. You can send them a message using fae magic. They’ll see and hear you talking as if you were in the room with them. All right?”

  He scrutinized her for another few seconds and then jerked his head in assent. “All right.”

  After all, his alternative was to remain ensnared in a net—and he’d go crazy if he remained bound much longer. Already the animal was rising again, urging him to kick and scratch and bite his way out of it, chew his own limbs off if he had to. Anything to break free.

  “Say the words. Swear it.”

  He inclined his head. “I swear on my honor as the Rock Run alpha that I will stay within Rising Sun territory until the summer solstice, and I will not communicate with anyone of my clan, save to tell them of our bargain.”

  She hesitated and he knew she was examining his words for any hidden meaning. Then she gave a satisfied nod. “Thank you. This is going to work—you’ll see.” She waved her hand and the net disappeared.

  Yes… He pushed himself to standing, his muscles protesting their confinement, and raised his arms for a long, bone-cracking stretch. He was still naked, and angry as he was with Cleia, he couldn’t help enjoying how her eyes darkened. He drew out the stretch until her breath quickened and he began to harden.

  He brought his hands to his hips. “Did you want something, querida?”

  She licked her lips and he smiled to himself.

  “Yes,” she said absently. “I mean no, I—” She dragged her gaze from his rapidly growing erection. “I—you remember where the bathing room is.”

  “Sim.”

  “You probably want to—to—” She waved a hand in the room’s direction. “I—I set out some clothes for you, too.”

  He’d never seen her so flustered. The animal in him preened, while the man grinned wickedly. He sauntered across the apartment to the bathing room, aware of her gaze on his ass the entire way.

  Inside the shower, he cranked the water to hot and let it cascade over him, soothing his stiff muscles and washing away the stale odor of a man who’d been unconscious for almost a day. Damn the woman anyway.

  Although now that he had calmed down a bit, he couldn’t help feeling a grudging respect at the way she’d turned the tables on him. Capturing him in his own net.

  He shook his head. He supposed he’d deserved that, although that didn’t mean he was going to forgive her anytime soon.

  There were several cakes of soap to choose from. He lifted each of them to his nose in turn. One had the tangy aroma of fresh oranges: Cleia’s scent. He inhaled deeply before setting it back down and choosing one without fragrance.

  But her scent lingered in his nostrils, and his mindless cock bobbed in response. He cupped the hard flesh with a soapy hand, wishing…wanting…

  Lord, he was a fool.

  He finished washing and turned off the shower.

  It was as he reached for a towel that he realized Cleia hadn’t made him promise not to touch her. In fact, he could do anything he pleased to her—as long as he stayed within the sun fae compound.

  His lips curved in a slow smile.

  He put on the T-shirt and shorts Cleia had left out for him and returned to the main room. By the time they sent the message to his people, the food had arrived. She invited him to take a seat at the table, which groaned with a mouthwatering selection of seafood: plump oysters on the half-shell, oversized lobsters, grilled scallops and mussels cooked in a wine-and-garlic sauce and served over pasta. Rounding out the repast was a loaf of crusty bread, a large bowl of salad and another of summer berries, and a carafe of vinho verde.

  The sight and scent of all that food made him lightheaded. His hollow stomach rumbled.

  Cleia waved a hand at the table. “Eat, please. You must be starved. You were out for almost eighteen hours.”

  “Obrigado.” He took a seat and heaped his plate with food as she reached for the vinho verde.

  “It’s one of yours,” she said as she handed him a glass. “Our wine steward has a standing order with Rock Run.”

  He sipped the crisp, slightly sparkling liquid. “What little there is of it these days.” He reached for an oyster and tipped the shell to his lips. The meat slid down his throat, briny and delicious. He chased it with the wine and reached for another.

  “Isa told me about your vineyards,” Cleia said. “That it’s not just the one that has black rot. The problem is deeper than that. Your vineyards and farms have dropped in fertility and you’re constantly fighting fungi and diseases. She blames the move from the Mediterranean, says the old ways are being lost. But that’s not the real reason, is it? You were here for years before you had any problems. Isa said it all started around two decades ago, around the time I took the first one of your men as a lover. She didn’t make the connection, but you did.”

  “That’s right.” He speared a grilled scallop. “It was bad enough that you stole some of my best men, but as you said, they were adults and capable of making their own choices. But one of our healers sensed an energy drain. He told me and eventually we traced it to the times you had one of our men under your thrall.”

  The skin around her eyes tightened, but she ignored the veiled insult. “I see.”

  “It lessens after they come home, but it never stops completely. And with each man you take, it gets worse.”

  “There’s a cumulative effect, then.”

  “Sim.”

  She met his eyes. “I’m sorry, Dion. If I’d known, I swear I wouldn’t have kept taking your men as lovers.”

  He inclined his head. She may not have known she was doing it, but the end result was the same.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. Cleia was the first to speak. “Something’s been bothering me. Why haven’t we met before now? We’ve been neighbors for close to a century. We always invited the fada to our festivals. Some of your people came, but never you—or anyone in your family, for that matter.”

  “I’m too busy to go to parties.”

  “No one works all the time.”

  “No? We fada don’t have your magic to help us build. We had to hollow out the caverns ourselves, build or trade for our own furniture, help the humans who emigrated with us to plant our vineyards and plow our fields.”

  His people had magic of a sort, but it tended to manifest itself in the ability to hunt, to track and kill prey. The fada were the world’s best hunters and fishers, but when it came to farming, they had to labor as hard as any human to prosper. And of course, once Dion had become a warrior, he’d been required to train several hours a day when not on a mission.

  “We aren’t so different,” Cleia said. “Our magic is useful, of course. I can teleport and work energy. Others can create gold from straw—or conjure a building from thin air—but it’s a huge energy drain. We try not to call on it unless it’s absolutely necessary. But from what I could tell, your base is finished except when you need to carve out new apartments for mate
d couples. You’re not as busy as when you first moved here. So why not accept one of our invitations?”

  He set down his fork. Fine. If she wanted the truth, he’d give it to her. “In the beginning, I was too busy. And don’t forget, we fada have our own parties.”

  She nodded. “The bacchanalia.”

  “The bacchas, yes, and also other celebrations that are for ourselves alone. But mainly my family stayed away because my pai didn’t trust you worth a damn. You fae may not lie, but you twist the truth to suit yourselves. And you think the fada are a lower form of life. You’re happy to use us to fight your wars or for a good fuck, but you don’t see us as equals.”

  “That’s not true. Maybe some fae are like that, but my parents always treated you fairly. I’ve continued that, and encouraged my people to do the same.”

  “Yeah?” he asked in disgust. “So it was fair to lure our men with your glamour, and then keep them for years at a time? Once I saw what was happening, I wouldn’t have touched you with a ten-foot pole. I warned the others to stay away from you—but you can’t blame an unmated male for seeking out a willing woman.”

  “I—” She had the grace to look ashamed. “They came of their own free will. They were free to come and go as they pleased.”

  “But your glamour made sure they stayed stuck to you like a pup at its mama’s teat.”

  Her chin jutted out. “So I used a touch of magic to draw men to me. It’s not like you fada are so damn innocent. I’ve seen what happens at a baccha. Years ago, when I was barely more than a girl, I snuck into one. It was like a nightmare. Drugs. People screaming for mercy. I—I saw a man whipping a woman until she—” She swallowed and glanced away. “I was so scared they’d come for me next. I tried to teleport out but there was some kind of barrier that prevented me. All I could do was cast a glamour to make myself as old and ugly as I could and hide until Artan and Grady found me. I thought my father was going to explode when he found out. I’ve never seen him so angry.”

  “For God’s sake, woman, what were you thinking?” He scowled. As furious as he was with Cleia, he still hated the idea of her at a baccha without a man—him—to protect her. “Your father was right. You could’ve been carried off and never seen again. The combination of wine and magic cause a frenzy—for anyone, but especially for fada. Our dark side takes over. It is a nightmare, the worst you ever had…but also the most carnal, addictive pleasure. Even being an old woman wouldn’t have saved you once the Delírio was on them. The things I’ve seen—”

  “Then why do you hold them?”

  “We don’t. Not for twenty-some years. My father banned them—with the full support of the clan—and I’ve continued that ban.”

  Her tawny brows arched in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Most of the fada clans have, save for a few renegades.”

  “But everyone still thinks that you—I don’t understand. Why keep it a secret?”

  He moved a shoulder. “We prefer not to share our business with outsiders.”

  “And it’s another reason for people to steer clear of you,” she added shrewdly.

  “And it’s another reason for people to steer clear of us,” he agreed.

  He’d almost finished his dinner but she’d barely touched her own food. He frowned, remembering her appetite when she’d first come to Rock Run. He selected a fat lobster claw, cracked it open and put the meat on her plate.

  “Eat. Your people depend on you.”

  She shot him a look, surprised—and hopeful. He glanced away, refusing to meet her eyes. The hopeful expression faded and he swallowed tightly, the food he’d eaten an uncomfortable ball in his stomach.

  But he refused to let her read anything more into his actions than his instinct to protect and care for a woman—any woman.

  And if he was lying to himself as much as her, so be it.

  She sighed and took a bite of lobster. “I am weaker,” she confessed. “My time underground sapped my strength. Sun fae need natural light, as much of it as possible. Especially me. The rest of the sun fae draw from me, you see. I’m the Conduit.”

  “Olivia told me something about that. But I thought it was just at the midsummer ritual that they draw from you?”

  “That’s not quite true. All of the sun fae draw energy from the sun—but not enough. They depend on the Conduit to draw the extra energy they need to be truly healthy. As Conduit, the sun’s energy is constantly flowing through me to the rest of my people. But yes, the midsummer ritual is where I renew my bond with the sun, and through me, the rest of the sun fae. Without that bond, the flow of energy would gradually cease.”

  “Hell,” he said. “I never intended to—”

  “Harm me?” She gave him a straightforward look. “Forget it, Dion. You did what you had to. I understand.”

  He dragged a hand over his hair. He had done what he thought necessary, but that didn’t mean he felt good about it. “But you’re home now, getting all the sunlight you need. Why aren’t you getting stronger?”

  She shook her head and looked down at her plate.

  “You will get better, won’t you?” he pressed.

  “Of course. I’m just a little weak today because of Xavier.”

  “Xavier? But—”

  “I went back to see him—to give him as much energy as I could spare. That’s where I was this morning.”

  He scowled. “Luis just let you teleport in and out of there?”

  “I waited until he left. Only Marina knew I was there. Please don’t be angry with her—she’d do anything to keep Xavier alive. I was only there for a few minutes.”

  “You think I don’t know that? But damn it, you can’t just flit in and out of our base at will.” He hesitated and then reluctantly thanked her. “That was good of you, especially when you’re low in energy yourself.” And it was kind, damn her anyway.

  “Don’t thank me. I’m happy to do whatever I can for him.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “He’s such a bright spirit.”

  “It’s in Deus’s hands now. But thank you for trying.”

  She lifted a shoulder and didn’t answer.

  “And my clan?” he asked. “The base—everything was quiet?”

  “Yes. Why wouldn’t it—?” Understanding dawned on her face. “The earth fada. You think they’re going to attack.”

  “I know they will. You don’t know how a fada thinks. Thanks to you and Olivia, Adric knows we’re weak—and that I’m not there to lead a defense. That makes us fair game.”

  “Not if he can’t find his way back to your base.”

  He snorted. “Trust me, it’s embedded in his brain.”

  She hesitated, then said, “I can help with that. Or rather, Olivia can. Her primary Gift is spells—casting them, neutralizing them. She has a spell that will wipe Adric’s memory, just a crucial few minutes. He’ll know he was at your base, but he’ll have no memory of its layout, or exactly where it was. And any records that he kept will be wiped out as well.”

  “That’s a hell of a Gift. But why would your cousin help us?”

  “Because I’ll ask her to. And besides, our policy is to remain neutral in the politics of other clans.”

  “Sim?” He raised an ironic brow.

  “Yes.” She shot him an exasperated look. “I’m not your enemy, Dion, which you’d know if you’d look past the end of your goddamned nose.”

  She crossed the room and sat before a fae-powered computer. She tapped the screen, calling her cousin, and explained what was needed. He couldn’t see Olivia, but he could hear her reluctance.

  “You’re sure? Better to keep the fada at each other’s throats so they’re too busy to bother with us.”

  He snarled lowly and Cleia shot him a look. “I’m sure,” she said. “It’s only fair. It’s because of us that Lord Adric knows where the Rock Run base is and that Lord Dion is our…guest.”

  “Very well,” said her cousin.

  As Cleia returned to her seat, Dion
whistled softly. “The two of you are some pair, aren’t you?”

  “We wouldn’t have survived this long if we weren’t strong. Your father made it clear he’d like to expand into our lands.”

  “Did he? I didn’t know.” It must have been years ago, back before he became his father’s second.

  “We convinced him it wasn’t worth his while.”

  Dion’s mouth quirked. “I’d have loved to have heard that conversation.”

  “It wasn’t precisely a conversation,” she admitted. “More like a demonstration.”

  He chuckled outright. “He always said fada and fae don’t mix.”

  “Did he? And do you agree?”

  His face hardened. “I do now.”

  “I see.” She went very still. Her expression remained impassive, but it was as if she’d curled into a protective ball.

  Shame slapped at him. He’d have preferred her to push back, tell him to go to the devil. He was still feeling the humiliation at being captured—in a net, yet. He wanted to hurt her, punish her, and yet each time he did, he hurt himself as well.

  He pushed his plate away. Cleia concentrated on cutting another tiny morsel of lobster. She hadn’t eaten enough to keep a bird alive—a small, underweight bird.

  He regarded her morosely. “For God’s sake, woman, if you’re not going to eat, go sit on the balcony. Get some sun. I’ll be damned if you get sick because of me and my clan.”

  She set her fork down without eating the lobster. “It won’t help.”

  “Why the hell not? You need sunlight for energy and it’s hot enough to fry eggs out there. Why won’t it help?”

  “Because…I need you, too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “Don’t you feel it, Dion?”

  “What?”

  But it was there in the space between them—not yet tangible, but the possibility of it tantalizing them both—the mate bond, the magical bond linking mind to mind, soul to soul, heart to heart. It explained that tugging at his heart that he’d felt more than once since bringing her back to Rock Run.

  “No. Oh, no.” He tore his gaze from hers and pushed away from the table to pace agitatedly around the room. “Don’t even think it. You—me—our very joining would be a death sentence for my people. I would never agree to it. Never.”