Copyright © 2020 by Jewel Killian
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Deep vengeance is the daughter of deep silence.
Vittoria Alfiere
Every time a human casts a spell a fae pays the price.
Contents
1. Delilah
2. Delilah
3. Loïc
4. Delilah
5. Joxen
6. Delilah
7. Halsten
8. Delilah
9. Drish
10. Delilah
11. Delilah
12. Loïc
13. Delilah
14. Delilah
15. Drish
16. Alev
17. Mac
18. Delilah
19. Delilah
20. Alev
21. Delilah
22. Delilah
23. Alev
24. Delilah
25. Joxen
26. Delilah
27. Delilah
28. Delilah
29. Halsten
30. Loïc
31. Delilah
32. Delilah
33. Delilah
34. Drish
35. Delilah
Drish’s Coffee Recipe
Notes From the Author
Check out Jewel’s Other RH Series
1
Delilah
Delilah Cross winced as the bath water swirled around her lady bits.
Sore didn't even begin to cover it.
Not that she was complaining.
She brushed the pads of her fingers to her mouth—chapped, vaguely aching lips—a reminder of the previous night's fun.
Four men. Four confoundingly hot men, all hers…
She relaxed against the cool porcelain of the claw-foot tub, sinking deeper into the too-hot water, then draped a washcloth over her eyes and made a mental note to always have lube around.
Always.
If she hadn't been so sex-dazed, she would have healed herself while still in the fae domain, but she hadn't and now Del just had to suck it up. During her training and lessons, Joxen had shown her how to use a bit of her native magic to heal minor discomforts and injuries. Anything bigger, though, had to be seen to by a healer.
However, since discovering the effect using magic had in the fae world, the fivesome had agreed not to use any while at home. Delilah was certain doing so would have little to no impact on the magical debt humans owed the fae—five people couldn't undo the debt accrued by billions of humans—but it put her mind more at ease to no longer be part of the problem.
A problem no human knew about except her and her men.
If she hadn't seen the look on her seer's face as he described the consequences to the outlying fae—the disfigurement, the frail and ailing bodies—Del might not have been so eager to help. The mere thought of the damage her tremendous magic alone might have caused sent a chill twisting down her back.
Still, before she took another fae mate, she'd insist on knowing for sure. Seeing for herself. Delilah and her men had been fooled by Mac once before. She wouldn't let the same mistake happen again.
The hard part would be getting Mac to be one-hundred-percent truthful. She couldn't know Delilah wanted answers or she'd find a way to manipulate the answers she doled out.
Lilah? You decent?
Loïc's cheery voice in her head, in their personal link cordoned off from the others, always lightened Delilah's mood.
Would it matter? she teased, washcloth slipping off her eyes and into the steamy water.
"Not in the least," Loïc said with a grin as he poked his head through the doorway. "I came to see if you needed help with"—he gestured to Delilah's submerged body—"any of that."
She chuckled at him. "I think I can manage," she said and aimed not to get lost in his dark, iridescent eyes. He wore his standard Loïc uniform: black T, black cargo pants, and wrist cuffs holding shining metal blades, each sharpened to a deadly edge.
Lo pouted and as endearing as the expression was, it failed to hide the crease worried into his forehead. "Well, there goes my cover story. I guess I'll just have to tell you why I'm here." He pulled the small padded stool from the vanity over and sat, sighing with the weight of whatever troubled him. "I'm scared, Lilah. If the meeting goes wrong today and I can't convince…" He exhaled, pulling a hand through his hair. "I don't know. Maybe I'm not the right person for this job."
That was something she truly respected about Loïc. Not only did he make no effort to hide his feelings, but he was incredibly self-aware about his emotions. He always knew what he felt and why.
Delilah nodded, sitting up to make better eye contact, which, to Loïc's eternal credit, he didn't break once, despite all of Del's goodies on display. She gazed into his magical eyes and decided she wouldn't placate him. Wouldn't serve him generic platitudes. Lo needed the truth. "You know, if I'm honest, the same thing crossed my mind. I mean, Halsten has the connections and family history with the premier. And Drish, ever diplomatic and completely unflappable, would certainly be a good option. Even Joxen would have an advantage simply by being fae."
Loïc frowned. "Gee, thanks for the pep talk."
Del took his hand in hers, squeezing gently. "But you're the right choice. You wanna know how I know?"
"How?"
"Because you want it. You offered to talk to the premier about the harm humans are doing to the fae domain. You wanted to convince him that laws on magic usage need to change. And you volunteered because you felt passionate about your ability to do so."
Loïc shrugged. "I think I was just excited about getting to call the red phone."
Del smiled. He had been kid-in-a-candy-store wide-eyed when Premier Morfinez handed over his card. "Maybe that's true. You're an unlikely choice, that's also true, but in this case, I think that works in your favor. Can you imagine Drish or Halsten schmoozing with the Congressional leaders? They'd expect favors and hefty campaign contributions in return. But you…"
"I'm not a gazillionaire. They won't expect money or favors from me."
"Precisely. They'll do the only thing they can. Listen."
Lo nodded but remained unconvinced. "I dunno, Lilah. I'm still just a shifter. Why should any of those big shots care about what I have to say? Maybe I should bring Drish so he can tell them about his visions, or Joxen maybe. He could just stand there and be fae."
Instead of answering, Delilah cast her gaze downward, focusing inward and widening the link she and Loïc shared, a skill she and Joxen had worked on tirelessly.
Don't sell yourself short, Lo.
Loïc gasped, eyes rounding with the shock of everything Del poured into him. She made sure to open herself completely, so he'd feel not just her words, but every emotion she had toward him. It rushed from her into Loïc's awareness like a tidal wave. The faith she had in him, her love, and the trust she had that he'd not only convince the premier, but the world at large.
Lo stared at her, mouth moving but words failing him.
"Oooh, sorry. Was that too much? Joxen keeps saying I need to work on control."
Loïc remained silent.
"Hey." Del shoved lightly at his shoulder. "I didn't fry your brain, did I?" Delilah's forehead wrinkled with worry. Jokes aside, she was still terrified of accidentally hurting someone with her power. "Come on, Lo, say something."
After far too long, he finally spoke. "You have as much faith in me as I do in you," he said softly.
Delilah let out a reli
eved sigh, pushing his shoulder again, harder that time. "Don't scare me like that, and of course I do. Don't you forget it, mister."
Loïc smiled and kissed her. "Thank you, Lilah. I really needed that," he said. "You think I can maybe get a raincheck on this?" He gestured to her nude form once more, a sly smile tugging at his mouth. "I should prepare for my meeting with the premier, but I could definitely be persuaded…"
Delilah winced at the mere idea of more sex.
Lo's brow pulled downward, deepening his adorable worry crease. "What's that face about?"
"It's nothing. I just forgot to heal myself last night and now I'm paying the price."
"Heal yourself?" Loïc growled, his features darkening so much that Del had no doubt Lo would make an excellent enforcer or torture guy in one of those mobster movies. In fact, if she didn't know him better, and if she weren't the more powerful of the two, Del might actually be scared. "Did we hurt you, Lilah? Did I?" Stupid horse dick.
Del couldn't help but laugh. "It's not you, Lo. It's the amount of sex we're having. Anyone would be sore, horse dick or not."
"You're sure?"
"Positive. Don't worry your pretty little head about it," she said with a grin.
"All right. Well, then get yourself back to the fae world and fix it."
Delilah nodded, fully intent on disregarding his instruction. Despite the benefits, she did not like being in the fae domain any more than necessary, especially without her guys.
The fae world, to her, was both freedom and confinement.
A mercy and hardship in equal measure.
When loosed in the fae domain, her power didn't destroy as it did at home. She'd shouldered that weight nearly her whole life, and now with it gone, she should be relieved, or excited, or at the very least, feel the smallest amount lighter. But she was also expected to save the fae world with her magic pussy…
The weight of such an expectation…
It was a lot.
And weird.
Loïc kissed her once more. "Thank you for setting me straight."
"Anytime, Lo."
He smiled again. "Wish me luck," he said and translocated himself from her bathroom.
"You won't need it," Del said to herself and relaxed into the tub once more.
She drifted off, allowing her thoughts to soften, lids to lower…
And a soft knock at her door pulled her from the edges of sleep. "Yes?"
"Sorry to bother you, Del," Halsten said from the threshold. "But Drish and I have some exciting news."
She smiled to herself, Halsten's rumbly voice conjuring a memory of the night prior.
The five of them had been hunting for a better location for a new place to stay in the fae domain—a little distance from Mackinshale would help Del's peace of mind, and fake Castle Hayne was not working for anyone—when Halsten pulled her from the path, pinned her to a tree, and took her pants off.
He'd been craving alone time with her, by his own admission and it was intensely important to Delilah that none of her men felt slighted. Least of all her familiar.
"We think we found the location for our new house," Drish said, excitement creeping into his tone.
"It ticks all the marks: secluded, far from Mac, great views, and enough space to birth a forest if the mood strikes you." Halsten's grin was the biggest she'd seen on him. Ever. He seemed lighter, brighter, more like the Halsten she'd first met than the moody recluse Castle Hayne turned him into. He'd even changed the way he wore his button-down, favoring a cuffed sleeve, which Delilah appreciated immensely.
Muscled forearms weren't one of those obvious turn-ons like a nice ass and broad shoulders, but that innocuous bit of exposed skin drew her gaze and refused to let it wander.
And yet, despite Halsten's new attitude, Delilah couldn't shake the dreadful gnawing in the pit of her stomach she’d been trying to escape. In fact, Halsten's lightness only highlighted her unease.
"We can't wait to show you," Drish said.
"It sounds amazing," she said absently.
Halsten glanced at Drish, who wore a matching expression of concern. "Are you all right, Del?" he asked.
Delilah couldn't help the guilt settling in her stomach as she lied. "I'm fine, loves. I'm just worn out from Joxen's training."
It turned her stomach to cinderblock when they took her at her word.
"Ah, well, we'll leave you to your soak then. Enjoy. Maybe have a nap afterward," Halsten suggested and escorted himself and Drish from Delilah's bathroom.
She hated lying to them.
Del wasn't tired from Joxen's lessons. Learning how her magic worked was fun, exciting. Suddenly having permission to tap into her seemingly limitless well of power made her giddy, drunk almost.
It also made Delilah hungry for more, but it was by no means draining.
No, what weighed on Del's mind, the mood her men picked up on, had nothing to do with training and everything to do with the secret she wished she didn't know.
Maybe if you're a good little witch and do as you're told, you'll get a true name too.
Mackinshale's words had lurked in the back of Del's mind for the past week. While honing her magic with Joxen, spending time with Lo, Drish, and Halsten, even during bedroom time, the shade's words and more importantly, her secret was never far.
The information, much like the fae world itself, was a double-edged sword, and Delilah Cross did not look forward to the inevitability of slicing herself or her mates with it. She'd found a handy bargaining chip within her newest mate's mind, but she wasn't in any way keen on using it.
2
Delilah
Not two minutes after Halsten and Drish left, Joxen translocated to the foot of the tub, startling Del into splashing water onto the marble floor and Joxen's linen pants. "Greening's beard, Jox, what is this, Grand Central Station? A little warning next time, huh?" Over the last week, Delilah noted that Joxen liked to dress in natural fibers like cotton, linen, and leather, in various monochromatic neutral tones. Today was Del's favorite, a gray day: gray linen pants with a soft gray shirt that flowed around his trim frame. The simple construction let the quality materials and workmanship shine through. He'd finished the outfit with a long cotton vest in a darker gray which highlighted Joxen's silvery complexion and hair, while also contrasting well with his jade-green eyes.
His gaze found hers, jeweled eyes apologetic. "Forgive me, Delilah. I'm afraid I didn't have the luxury of a call ahead. The Imperial Regent insists on your presence immediately."
Delilah resisted the urge to smile. There it was. Her in. The button she could press to get Mac to show her hand. "Is that so?"
"I'm to take you to her at once."
Delilah still hadn't mastered translocation on her own, a fact that annoyed her beyond belief. Drish had gotten the hang of it immediately, and Halsten and Lo had days ago. "Well, if Mac wants to see me, she can come to me. I'm done being whisked between domains. I'm not one of her servants and I'm not at her beck and call."
Joxen's eyes widened. He cleared his throat. "Shall I tell her as much?"
"Those exact words, please."
"As you wish." Joxen let a small smile tug at his lips before translocating away.
Delilah sat back, and once more tried to enjoy her bath before Mac appeared and ruined it for good. To Del's amazement, she was able to relax, wash, and even shave. She set about choosing her clothing for the rest of the day, a task more difficult than ever now that her closet was full of perfectly fitting clothes thanks to Florence. Delilah assumed most were designer, judging by how well-made and luxurious the fabrics felt. Slippery silk blouses and fluffy cashmere pullovers, jeans that fit her booty like no other—and Florence had accomplished it all without taking a single measurement.
Del selected a gray knit sweater and a pair of dark-wash jeans. Castle Hayne was incredibly drafty now that the background spells and charms had been shut down. Del had even seen poor Geoffrey mopping the atrium twice a day—Loïc wasn't gre
at at remembering to wipe his hooves—before he finally hired himself more staff.
Del slipped on a pair of buttery leather ankle boots to finish it off and checked her look in the full-length mirror in the back of her far-too-large closet. The boots gave her a few more inches, though she'd still have to look up at her guys and Mac. And pretty much all the fae. Five foot seven wasn't exactly short, but Del seemed to keep tall company. The sweater fit her well, warm and slouchy but not bulky or boxy, and the jeans hugged her ass the perfect amount. Del ran her fingers through her roots to fluff out the waves the steamy bath had made, and decided she hadn't looked this good in a very long time.
"Preening like a human, are we?"
Delilah forced herself not to jump at Mac's sudden, cutting admonishment. "I am a human, Mac," Del said evenly, turning to meet the shade who'd seated herself on the edge of Del's bed.
Mac lifted a golden eyebrow and stared at Delilah.
Del held her gaze, taking in the shade's shiny golden shirt and silvery ankle-length skirt. The only thing keeping Mac from looking like a disco ball was how perfectly the metallic clothing suited her natural coloring.
"I know you're here for a reason, Mackinshale. Let's not waste each other's time."
"Is that what we're doing now? Being mindful of the other's time? Hardly believable, seeing as I'm here because you refused to come when you were called."
Del stepped forward, dangerously close to Mac. "I won't be treated like a lackey. If you want me, at least give me some warning. Send a message. A pigeon, one of your underlings, hell, send me a text. I have a phone, you know."
Witch's Four Page 1
