Property of the Fae

by Laxmi Hariharan

  Drawing in my neck, I retract my claws. My face narrows and my body folds in to form my human shape. I am running before my feet touch the ground.

  I race up the beach and to the tunnels that lead to the building on the top of the hill. In this case, at least discretion is the better part of valor. I’ve done enough to endanger my kids.

  I am not going to risk them further by drawing attention to myself. Hopefully, no one noticed my landing on the beach on the other side of the island from the villa. And I call it villa in the loosest sense. The building I am headed toward is a monstrosity built into the side of the hill and overlooking a drop straight to the sharp rocks below. Why is it that I always seem to choose locations which border rivers? More, why is it that I am always attracted to diving toward said deep depths? Probably because I am attracted to danger. To lethal men. To alpha-holes like the man I left behind.

  By the time he notices, I'll be far away. That's even taking for granted that the man has discovered my absence. Somehow, I know that Alice is not the kind to raise an alarm.

  Doesn’t mean she won’t tell Tristan everything I’d blabbed to her. That's too bad. He could have simply asked me why I’d wanted to leave but he never had. And, I hadn’t given him a chance. I had been too busy throwing myself at him every time I saw him. Trying to crawl under his skin and nestle there happily. As if he is the reason for my existence. As if he can protect me from the viciousness of what is to come.

  I run up the stairs that wind to the top of the cliff.

  It’s dark, not a pinpoint of light, not that I need it, for I can see in the dark. My breath catches in my chest, and my throat goes dry.

  Yeah, I hate closed spaces. Most dragons do, but me in particular.

  I have a healthy disrespect for small areas, and anywhere less than six feet, I have a panic attack.

  Probably has something to with constantly being shut up in a coffin-like, narrow closet by my dad.

  Yeah, it can do things to a child, when you are subjected to that kind of crazy shit. I should be glad I turned out half as coherent as I have. And now I am allowing some insane stuff to happen to my kids. No… I am not going to let anything happen to them. I am going to get them out of there at any cost.

  Reaching the top of the stairs, I turn a corner, and the light is blinding. My eyes adjust, and I keep going.

  Bursting into the courtyard, I slow down, pull my shoulders back, tie the shirt around my thighs, then fluff my hair. In short, I go back into femme fatale Jess mode. The persona I’ve perfected over the years. Mean, sexy Jess who is never afraid of using her bodily charms to get what she wants. Yeah, an irony that I am falling back on the same mask I’ve used all these years to get what I want from this monster.

  When every instinct in me pushes me to go in, fire blazing, assume my dragon self, and burn down the fucking mansion and all the scum who live in it. But I can’t, not while he still holds my kids hostage. I have to find them first, try to distract those inside…then we’ll have to see. I have the best kind of plan for this escape, spontaneity, aka, I have no plan but to wing it. Nice, Jess, real nice.

  I am flouncing down the courtyard when a massive, overly muscled man blocks my way.

  The Fae Corps men are massive, but they have a rugged sleekness that hints at the fact that their brawn is hard-won, the old-fashioned way, through fight and grit and sex. Lots of sex. Fuck, why is my mind so one-track, and why does it always just home in on Tristan? Oh, wait, maybe it has something to do with the fact that I am more than halfway to a full-blown heat cycle. Talk about a crazy pressing deadline. Holy hell. I grit my teeth and pucker my lips together in the semblance of a pout. “Hey there, handsome, whatcha doin’ waiting for me here?”

  The man frowns at me. “Where’d you come from?” He scratches his balls, and my insides heave.

  I shouldn’t be here, not so close to another male. Not when my mate is waiting for me. He shouldn’t have left me. I toss my head in an attempt to clear my mind from the downward spiral it seems to have been pulled into.

  “From above.” I point upward.

  “You high or something, girl?” He massages his dick.

  My skin crawls.

  “You have any dope on you?” I yank up the sleeve of my shirt, and his gaze falls on my bared skin.

  My stomach lurches and a sour feeling fills my mouth. I don’t get it. This is just an act, just to get to my kids, but something inside me hates that I have to pretend this seduction routine. My dragon grumbles, shoving up against my skin. It wants to be let loose, and I almost give in to the temptation but don’t want to attract attention, not yet. I bite the inside of my cheek, then thrust out my chest.

  The man’s gaze moves to my breasts. He licks his lips and massages himself harder.

  “Come closer, big boy, I have a surprise for you.”

  Big dumb boy sidles forward, close enough for the heat of his body to graze my skin. I almost gag. Choking down on the contents of my stomach which threaten to rise, I shoot out my hand and jab my fingers right in the side of his neck. My claws rip through his jugular. Blood spurts out, and the man tumbles forward. I grab him and lower him to the ground. Every part of my skin shrivels at the contact. I grit my teeth and drag his big body to the side in the shadows, then spring up and keep going. The whiff of his blood makes my stomach lurch.

  Sweat beads my forehead.

  Not good. Not good. I am so close to going into full heat. No doubt I am giving off pheromones that these males can scent a mile off. I can't stop now. I need to give it my best shot. I just need to hold on until I get the kids off this island. Have to.

  I charge up the stairs, following instinct. Coming across another guard, I blow out a low whistle. When he looks my way, I leap across the space and take him down with a chop to the side of the neck. I lower him to the ground, jump over his body, then up the next flight of steps. My heart pounds, and I know I am getting closer.

  If you ask me how I know where the kids are, I can’t tell you, but something tells me he’ll have hidden them where the security is the highest, and, a mother’s heart knows. My instincts point the way, and I don’t question it. I burst into a corridor; there's a closed door at the end. A guard is resting against it. His neck is slumped forward; his chin rests on his chest. I dash toward him, and he lifts his head. His eyes blink vertical. Damn, a dragon shifter? Just my luck.

  I race at him. “Get out of my way.”

  He simply takes a step forward, raises his massive fist, and punches me in the chest. My body leaps through the air, and I find myself falling. I straighten at the last minute then twist to land on my feet and charge him. I head butt him in the chest, and his body goes right through the door, me with him. I roll to a stop and, flinging the body of the shifter off me, I spring up.

  My heart squeezes. There, at the far end of the room, is a lanky teenaged girl. Her dark-blonde hair streams behind her. She is tied to a pole that runs from floor to ceiling at the edge of the balcony. There is no railing. There is nothing behind her but the open sea.

  “Charley.”

  She stares at me, her eyes wide, her skin pale. The freckles stand out on her cheeks. I take a step toward her, and her gaze darts to the side. I follow it, and adrenaline pumps through my blood. Another girl, much younger than Charley, her hair in pigtails, and dressed in shorts and T-shirt. She’s tied to a flagpole that juts out of the window. The little girl dangles from it. One of her shoes slides off her foot and drops away. A gust of wind blows, and her body sways. The sun shines on her, and that’s when I see the trickle of blood down her temple. She seems lifeless. No…no.

  “Sweta, my baby.”

  “So you finally decided to put in an appearance?” a voice drawls from the other side of the room.

  I swivel around and march up to the man who’s seated in a chair. He’s bald, and his features are lopsided like...they'd been shattered, and he'd pieced them back together, but they don't quite fit. He wears a pinstriped suit, com
plete with a handkerchief tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

  “Since when did you take to high fashion?” I try to smirk, try to imitate Tristan’s confidence. My chin wobbles, spoiling my attempt at casual conversation.

  Boris straightens in his chair and unfolds one foot from the top of the other leg. He places both feet on the floor, his movements precise.

  “And hey, when did you grow another leg?” I snicker. “The last I saw you were hopping around on one. Didn’t the Fae burn off the other?”

  Right, and I cannot shut up, can I?

  What am I trying to do? Goad this monster into losing control? Is that my plan? Given I have not much choice in how to proceed, it’s best to follow my instincts. They have led me this far, right? I have found my kids… I have to save them. Have to.

  “You said you’ll keep them safe until I returned.” My voice quivers, and I swallow down a cry.

  “I lied.” He giggles. “Sorry.”

  I pause not more than two feet away from him. Any closer and I am going to rip his head off before I flame out and burn him down, and not that I am not tempted to do that anyway; but I don’t trust the fucker. He’s got more up his sleeve, probably a hidden signal somewhere that will send the kids hurtling to their deaths. My stomach churns. My arms and legs tingle. My nails slide out from my toes, from my fingers, and I pull them back. Now is not the time to lose control. Now is not the time to think of anything but about how to defeat this monster who’s sprawled over that plush armchair without a care in the world.

  There is a creaking sound behind me, and I want to turn, want to see what is happening. It must be Sweta. She is hanging on by her little arms, and I have to save her. If I lose my temper, it will only hurt her. And I am not going to do that. No way.

  “Feisty one, you are.” Boris draws back his lips, showing the gaping holes where he’d lost a few teeth in that last fight with Dante. He could have replaced the missing teeth just as he had regenerated his missing limb, but he hadn't. Probably because it adds to the disconcerting nature of his appearance. My stomach lurches.

  “Tell me something new.” I curl my fingers into fists. “You going to let the girls go, or do I need to fight you for this?”

  He clicks his tongue. “I don’t fight women; don’t you know that?”

  “Yeah, you only use us for bait.” I angle my head. Anger burns a trail down my spine, and I ignore it. Bide your time. Bide it.

  A gust of wind blows in, and he sniffs the air. His gaze widens then narrows on me. “You do have other uses.” The color burns on his cheeks, and his pupils dilate.

  I know exactly what it is; he’s smelled the pheromones; knows I am about to go into a full-blown heat cycle. Fuck this. Why am I pretending?

  “Is that what you want? Ultimately, it comes down to the same things, doesn't it? Power, sex.”

  “You’re wrong again.”

  “Huh?”

  He rises to his feet, his every move measured. “I am not above using sex, but there is much more at stake. I’ll never be happy with simple power either, not after what the Fae Corps did to me. My men overthrew me. They betrayed me, and in front of my entire race. You know the only thing that will make up for it?” He pauses and lowers his gaze to my face. There’s expectancy written all over his features.

  I bite the inside of my cheek.

  He glowers at me, then cups a palm behind his ears.

  Whatever, and I am already tired of this charade.

  “What?” I ask through clenched teeth. "What will set things right?"

  “Nothing.” He rocks himself from side to side.

  The wounds Dante delivered disfigured more than Boris' body. No one, not even the Fae can withstand that level of pain and still stay coherent. It’s a miracle he’s managed to piece himself together. It must have taken a very good surgeon to do that…or hell, maybe it was the Fae’s regenerative powers?

  "So, nothing short of wiping out the entire race will serve your purpose, and you won’t stop until you bring down the apocalypse itself on us.” I raise my shoulders and let them drop, “Heard that before. At least you could be more original."

  His face darkens. His brows knit together. He limps forward, one more step, then another, until he faces me down. He’s not as tall as Tristan, but the fucker is a mean-ass motherfucker, and his strange three-piece suit only adds to that sense of coldness that clings to him. He can’t be reasoned with. He is not letting me go. He will not let my kids go free. He has to. I have to try.

  I hold up my hands in front of me. “Look, we got off on the wrong footing, Boris. Can I call you Boris? After all, we are going to be intimately acquainted.” Ugh! My skin crawls. The emptiness in my belly curdles, bile rushes up my throat, and I swallow it down. “I mean, even a man such as you”—or what’s left of you, but I don’t say that out loud— “has needs.” I flutter my eyelashes at him.

  His lips part. Okay then, he’s buying this over-the-top act.

  I turn to face him and begin to sidle backward toward the door.

  He follows me and closes the gap.

  I dig a finger in the V of my neckline and drag it down. His gaze drops there.

  “I mean, maybe we can work out an arrangement, you know.”

  “Keep talking.” His voice comes out raspy.

  The hair on the nape of my neck stands up.

  “You are smart enough to know I am heading into a heat cycle. And you know what they say about dragon females in heat?”

  He angles his head and pants. The fucker pants.

  “They may be fierce at the best of times, but a dragon shifter female in heat is one who you should fuck at least once before you die.” My chin wobbles, and I force myself to keep walking in reverse. Keep talking, hold his attention.

  I grasp the side of my shirt and lift it, all the way up to the top of my thigh.

  His gaze crawls down my breasts, to my crotch, then tracks to where the skin of my leg must no doubt be visible.

  “Do I get to mark that flesh?” His face contorts in what must be a twitch of desire. Difficult to say, when his eyebrows have not yet regenerated. It only makes his face more frightening.

  “Do I, bitch?” he snaps.

  My insides churn, and I force myself to nod. My dragon jolts against my skin.

  “Do I get to squeeze those titties and come over those nipples?”

  No. No one except Tristan gets to do that.

  My hands go numb. I try to open my mouth and tell him, yes, he can. Yes. The words stick in my mouth.

  “Do I get to finger-fuck that tight little pussy, then take you in the ass?”

  My nerve endings squeeze, and rage twists my guts. “No,” My voice is harsh, and the sound of it takes me by surprise. Except not really. What had I thought, that I could simply flounce in here and offer myself and be done with it? That I would voluntarily offer this body, which does not belong to me anymore, to this horrible monster in return for my babies? If only it were that simple. There is no way out, none. Except…I could plead. I drop to my knees and bow my head. “Please…” The word catches on a sob. “Let the girls go. They are innocent.”

  “I know.”

  I look up at him through eyes blurry with tears. “So you’ll release them?”

  “Yes.” He bares his lips and spit drools from his mouth. “I’ll let them go forever.”

  He raises his hand, and the tips glow. There’s a scream from the balcony, and I swivel toward it just as Charlie topples over.

  A whine of air rustles from my right, and I am halfway across the floor before I see that the flagpole is empty. “No!” I leap across the space and stumble onto the landing. “Sweta.” I spot the flash of her pigtails as she hurtles toward the open sea.

  36

  Tristan

  “I got you, little one.” I swoop up the child in my arms, then fall into myself and teleport to where the other girl is hurtling down toward the sea.

  She never told me she had children, and I n
ever bothered to ask her why she’d wanted to leave me.

  I’d simply assumed it was because she wanted to get away from me. That’s what I get for assuming too much. For simply not opening my mouth and asking her what is important for her. Just a few words, asshole. You simply had to ask her, “What makes you happy, Jess?”

  Instead, I’d allowed my dick to be my guide. I’d followed that fucker helplessly, shamelessly, to its destination. To be inside her, wallowing in her scent as her pussy had clamped down on my shaft, and now I hold her child in my arms. I shove away all thoughts from my head and focus on the body I can see below. She’s almost at the surface of the water. I accelerate towards her.

  Getting a bead on her in my mind’s eye, I tighten my grip on the little girl in my arms then teleport to the teenager.

  I snatch her up, just as the spray from the sea reaches up for us. She trembles, and her skin is cold. I cradle the child close to my chest, then, making sure to tuck them both at my sides, I teleport up to the balcony from which the second girl had fallen. Alighting on the decking, I look through the open doors.

  I see Jess with her back to me. She marches up to a man in a three-piece suit. He holds himself stiffly as if the parts of him have been broken up and have not quite been put back together. That’s because they haven’t.

  “Boris,” I suck in my breath.

  The commander had managed to survive the carnage that had been his and Dante’s encounter. How had he managed that?

  “You hurt my babies.” Jess’s voice is harsh.

  The pain in it rolls at me, and I wince. I’ve never heard her so broken, so anguished, and I almost step through the door to tell her I have her kids. A touch on my forearm has me looking down. The older girl is gazing up at me. In shock? Horror? I shake my head at her, and she jerks her chin toward Jess.