Hunted: A fae fantasy romance (Fae Magic Book 1)

by Jessica Aspen

  She had a sudden desire to see the real Logan, not this imposter with the hard lined face and short warrior’s hair.

  “Let it go.”

  “What do you mean, lass?”

  “I want to see the real you.”

  A shimmer ran over his face. His hair lengthened and the sharpness of his cheek bones altered, leaving the Logan she’d just begun to get to know.

  “Better.”

  She leaned in, brushing feather-soft kisses along his damp, warm skin, her breasts and thighs bumping against him. He rinsed his hands off in the bucket and took up his own cloth, washing her belly and hips and sending electrical pulses through her as she skimmed her fingers along an ugly purple bruise shadowing the ivory skin below his ribs.

  He winced and sucked in air. “That one goes deep.”

  Once clean, he eased into the tub, hissing as hot water hit freshly exposed cuts. She stood behind him and massaged his neck muscles with the tips of her fingers.

  He hung his head and sighed. “Very nice.”

  “Let’s get this clear. The sex tonight is because I want to—not because I owe you, or you think you own me. I’ll pay you for saving me in massage.” She increased the pressure enjoying the feel of him under her hands.

  “I’ll not argue with you, lass. It’s a fitting payment.” He bowed his head further forward, and gave her full access.

  She dug deep into the knots, her nipples dipping into the water as she pushed down the length of his back to the firm muscles at the top of his ass. She rubbed and kneaded until her fingers were sore and his muscles were supple and relaxed.

  “Better?”

  “Much. Consider the debt well paid.” He captured her hand and brushed a soft kiss along her knuckles. “Now come relax in the water.” He tugged her to the front of the tub.

  She climbed into the tub in front of him and leaned back, resting her back against his chest. Her body floated in the hot, soapy water, her feet intertwined with his calves.

  “Ah lass, I’m sorry we fought earlier.”

  An ache grew deep inside the center of her chest. She sighed, and it expanded from a small irritation into an inexorable breath-stopping pain.

  She gasped. This was it—this pain, centered deep inside her ribcage, was the opening of her heart.

  A small shudder ran through her. Goddess knew she hadn’t wanted to fall for this man, but it was happening just the same.

  Logan warm, strong arms wrapped around her from behind, supporting her and holding her close. “Easy, love.” He traced a wet finger over her face, along her cheekbones, down her jaw, feathering his soft touch over her lips. She guided his finger into her mouth, sucking it in and out, savoring the taste and texture of his rough skin on her tongue.

  He groaned, flipping her over and onto his lap. She wrapped her legs around him. His erection floated under her, brushing the hair between her legs.

  Their faces were inches apart.

  She was in more danger than she’d ever been in her life and yet, for the first time since her parents had died and her world had collapsed into a life on the run, she felt safe. Here, in the arms of the enemy, Logan would let no one harm her.

  Words couldn’t express the depth of her gratitude, nor the lightness of floating here, secure in his protection.

  Releasing his finger, she leaned forward and kissed him—a light, brushing thank you of her lips against his. He opened his mouth and tangled his kiss with hers and a roaring filled her ears. She lost herself, drowning in a suspension of time and the heat of her lover’s lips.

  When the kiss ended, Trina stared at Logan’s wide elven eyes through the steam. His expression was serious. What was he thinking? Was he as affected by this moment as she was? Could he be?

  She traced his eyebrows with a dripping index finger, down his temple, along his jaw line—memorizing the shape of his face with her touch.

  His eyes drifted closed and the last remaining tension eased from his face and body.

  Never in her life had she thought it would come to this—the ache of falling in love with a man who she could never have a future with. A man who, if she’d seen him only a few weeks ago would have had her shaking in fear and running for her life.

  But now? Now, this was her moment to fall. She’d think about the consequences tomorrow.

  She kissed his closed eyelids and they fluttered under her lips as her hardened nipples grazed his smooth chest. She worked her way down to his mouth, outlining his lips with her tongue, bracing herself on the sides of the tub as he opened his mouth and the kiss turned hot and strong.

  He pulled her tightly into him.

  “Logan, I can’t wait anymore.” She reached for his hips under the water and maneuvered onto his erection, easing it deep inside her until he filled her to the deepest point.

  Staring into his turquoise eyes, she moved up and down. Water sloshed onto the floor as their rhythm increased faster and faster, until he clenched her to him. They cried out together, and everything in her released—including the pain in her heart.

  Chapter Twenty

  Hours later, they sat down to a makeshift meal of leftovers and hot, strong tea, eating on the sagging couch and illuminated only by the flames of the fire.

  “What were those things?” Trina’s muscles ached, but despite the long night, she wasn’t sleepy. She was restless with her newfound knowledge of her vulnerability to Logan.

  He quirked a brow at her. “Would you believe wild boars?”

  “No. I’ve seen boars on TV. I think they have them in Florida, but they aren’t that big or that vicious. Those things were the size of horses.”

  “They grow that big Underhill. I’ve hunted them many times before, thank the goddess. If it had been just you—.” He shook his head, his face grim.

  She wrapped her fingers tightly on her mug, drank her tea, and tried not to think about what could have happened to her had the boars come across her unaware with no time for spells. She’d be dead.

  “Do they always hunt in pairs like that?”

  “Boars don’t hunt. They have tiny brains. They’re brutal and vicious, and will attack upon the slightest provocation. Someone riled them up and brought them through a gate, likely be-spelled to attack. But why send creatures from Underhill? Why not attack us directly?”

  “It’s a message.” Trina shivered despite the heat of the fire. Logan spread a blanket out and lifted it up, inviting her under it.

  She hesitated. His eyebrow raised and she shrugged and ducked under the blanket. Why the hell shouldn’t she? It was too late to save her heart, that was already gone. She snuggled into the warm safety of his body.

  “Someone must have spotted you.” He wrapped his arm tight around her. “Or targeted me. Someone who wants to divert suspicion to the queen and away from the Seven Tribes.” He frowned. “Tell me about Mariella Boyd.”

  “You can’t possibly think she would sic wild boars on us. Why? And where would she find them. Humans can’t open portals, not even witches.”

  “What did she say to you?”

  “Nothing that would imply she meant me harm. She extended the protection of the meet to me.” She needed time to think about her encounter with Mariella and make sense of it before she had to make him understand what had happened in the RV. “I want to hear what you discovered.”

  Logan recounted his evening, ending with the tale of Lady Aoife.

  “You mean you are going to go on the word of a drunken old man that this Aoife is who we’re looking for? What makes you so sure?”

  “I remember her from the Gold Court.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The court of the Sun King, Oberon.” Logan rubbed the skin of her arm with his hand as he talked. “I visited once. Prince Kian used to go to the parties and a bunch of us went along. We didn’t stay long, caused trouble when we did, but I remember the Lady Aoife in particular.” He stared into the fire.

  “Why? What was so special about her?”
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  “I remember the court treated her differently, like she was special, but not in a good way. She was strikingly beautiful, but no one approached her. And she had a private audience with the king himself.”

  “Is that uncommon?”

  “I’ve never seen it before. Not that we frequented the Gold Court on a regular basis, maybe once a decade or so..”

  Trina wondered how old he really was that visits were measured in decades. Time stretched out as a sudden, long highway and she a tiny blip in his road. He looked like he might be in his late twenties, but she knew time was different here beyond the veil. The longer lifespan might mean he was at least hundreds, if not thousands, of years older than her.

  She swallowed some tea to cover her giveaway face and forced her wayward mind back to the immediate question.

  “Are you sure about this? Aoife isn’t the name Mariella gave me. Something weird is going on.”

  “Discovering information is simply another form of hunting. My Gift tells me this is the right scent. Why don’t you tell me about your evening and let my Gift work? Who did Mariella say was responsible?”

  “Mariella gave me the name Haddon.”

  He sat up. “Haddon is the queen’s closest advisor. There’s no way that snake would try to negotiate with the queen on behalf of the tribes, he’s far too afraid of losing his head. Are you sure?”

  “I asked her to tell me the name of the fae who was involved in the negotiations.” She tried to remember exactly what Mariella had said. “Maybe, she thought I wanted the name of any fae involved in the negotiations.”

  “Well, it’s likely he was at the table. But I still think Aoife is the person who was friendly with your tribe—and she’s who we need to see next. I’d hoped you would get more details from Mariella, but no matter. I’ll go tomorrow and track her down.”

  “You meant both of us. Right?”

  He stiffened and Trina could see by the blank look on his face that he hadn’t meant both of them.

  She moved to the far side of the couch. “You can’t leave me behind, Logan. I have a huge stake in this. It’s my family, my tribe—my entire life. You can’t possibly think I’d stay behind after all this and cook and clean for you. No way!”

  “Trina—” He reached for her, but she eluded him and stayed curled up on her side of the couch. “Something’s not right. I don’t trust this Mariella Boyd, she gave you false information, and she sent you after the queen’s head advisor.” He rubbed his forehead. “Someone sent those boars after us. They either followed you, or they wanted to kill us both.”

  “You don’t know it was her. I could have been found out by any number of people. She gave me her word.”

  “Someone’s word is a tricky thing. Take it from a fae. I’d hoped we’d have a more definitive lead and that would justify risking you last night, but now I fear this woman has something up her sleeve.” His voice hardened. “Tomorrow, you stay here, and I’ll hunt Aoife. On my own.”

  A heaviness invaded her body.. He sounded like he never intended her to help him at all. Maybe he’d keep her locked up until the end of time, or until he was tired of her and threw her away. Maybe her feelings for him were clouding her judgment. He was still fae—and she was still only a witch.

  “I don’t trust you to have my best interests at heart. I’m going tomorrow.

  Logan got up, pacing back and forth across the small space. “You’re my servant. You have no say in this matter, nor any other!” He paused, looming over her, just like he had the very first day they’d negotiated, taking every advantage he had bargained for. “I’m not discussing this any further. I hunt alone.”

  Stinging tears pushed behind her eyes, throbbing in time with the pain in her newly opened heart. She felt tiny and ill-equipped for this fight as she huddled on the couch, but she’d be damned if she would let him know her new vulnerability.

  “Fine.” She stood up too. Her life had spiraled out of control and now was the time to take it back. “I may have to stay here, but I don’t have to spend time with you. That’s not a contractual obligation.” She marched to the ladder. “I don’t have to have sex with you, sleep with you, or even talk to you.” She climbed up into the loft, feeling him watching her as she placed each foot above the last, hoping he hadn’t seen the pathetic tears in her eyes.

  Despite everything Logan had said, everything they’d shared, everything she’d dared to dream, she was here again. Only now she was worse off than before. Now she was not only a prisoner, a servant, a slave... she was a woman in love with a man who had no heart.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Haddon had no problems keeping his feelings hidden. He’d worked his entire life to get to this position—first as the queen’s whipping boy, then as her advisor. Bending over, licking boots, risking his head with every manipulation, until he’d finally achieved his current high post.

  But today he wondered if he’d made a mistake staying here in this court and using this particular queen for his scheme.

  Was it too late to find a different job? Was his plot of marrying the queen, sending her down the hole of depravity, then taking over the Black Court himself nothing but a pipe-dream?

  Today, the queen was in her dark goddess aspect, the Morrigan. Inky black hair coiled in snaky ringlets, her black raven’s wings opening and closing in agitation. A cluster of ladies-in-waiting fluttered nearby, afraid to stray from her side but unsure of her temper.

  “Haddon.” Her purple eyes whirled. “You said the MacElvy’s would all be dead by now, and they aren’t...all...dead.” Her aura spun, a grey tornado laced with red and black swirls.

  “My queen, we are close to achieving your goal.” He leaned in and stroked the tension out of her arm. “The last of the MacElvy’s are running like rabbits. We should have them within the year. Then your son will be safe.”

  Not that he wanted the prince safe. No, his plans didn’t include Kian on the throne.

  “You said they’d be dead and Kian would be under my control by now!” The skin under his hand grew hot.

  “Patience, my queen. They cannot escape you indefinitely.”

  “Until the MacElvy are destroyed, I cannot release Kian.” Her wings fluffed out. “I need his powers, Haddon, or my plans to take over the Gold Court will be ruined.”

  “Shh, my queen,” he whispered, scanning the court. The usual toadies were close in, preening and posing in case the queen’s eye wandered in their direction, but he wasn’t worried about them. A lady-in-waiting met his eyes and he scowled. She lowered her gaze and scurried back, her tiny, vestigial wings furiously batting the air. “There are spies everywhere. We don’t want His Majesty to have any inkling of your plans.” If she continued to speak like this, someone would find out her plans, and Haddon’s would be ruined.

  The queen’s anxious twitching increased.

  “Let’s adjourn to the mirror’s room, Your Majesty, and see what sort of information we can glean from Owen. As your mirror, he’s bound to know something.” He doubted it, but the decrepit, old man would be a fine distraction for the queen.

  “Bah!.” She pushed his hand off her arm. “Those pathetic humans used to live longer Underhill. Barely eighty and already his powers are waning. His visions are weak and pathetic.”

  “We should use the last of his powers to find a replacement, someone young and energetic. I’m sure he’ll be able to see a new psychic for you to use.”

  The queen brightened. “That’s a lovely idea. Let’s go now.” Her churning aura slowed, the colors fading and smoothing into something close to calm.

  Haddon smothered a sigh. It seemed he had miscalculated. Instead of her insanity putting him into power, it now took all of his persuasion to keep her from trouble.

  The best thing to do today was to divert her away from the MacElvy and her ill thought out plans to de-throne the Gold King using Prince Kian’s powers. Once the prince had married Agrona and was under the queen’s full control she would be d
istracted, feeding off the prince and his consort, bloating herself with power. He would be free to cement his control then, when the prince was drained dry, and dead.

  The queen rose. Silks and satins rustled as the sycophants of the court rushed to her side. Haddon waved his arms at them, shooing handsome black-eyed Bosco and his current paramour back to their whispering conversation with a large golden goose. Perhaps he’d find time to explore that one later. But not today. Today, he had his hands full.

  The Morrigan unfolded her wings and flew to a discreet door set in a large oak behind the throne. Despite his efforts, several of the court ladies took off, flitting after her in a clump.

  “Not you.” She waved her wing, sending them scattering. “Go find something useful to do!” She beckoned to Haddon. “Come, come, we’ll start now.” And disappeared ahead of him into the roots of the tree.

  The passage through the oak brought them to one of the private rock-walled chambers reserved for “guests” who merited comfort, but not freedom. Owen, the queen’s current mirror, dropped his book and hoisted himself off his recliner. Once a vibrant lover of both Haddon and the queen, now Haddon noticed the old man’s joints were red and swollen with arthritis. Thank the gods he wasn’t human. Owen winnced as he bowed low to the queen and there was a distinct pop.

  Haddon hid a sigh. The queen was right, blast it all. Owen was aging unusually fast. Underhill, humans usually lived to be two or three hundred years and showed little to no aging, but Owen looked like he wouldn’t see ninety.

  Of course, usually, the lives of humans who resided Underhill were filled with luxury and magic while their fae paramours enjoyed their company. Owen, however, was unlucky enough to be a tool of the Black Queen’s. The broken bones and spells he’d endured had aged him unmercifully.

  “How may I serve you, Your Majesty?”