Hunter Deceived

by Nancy Corrigan

  “Cynthia.” Ian’s whispered voice sounded strained.

  Harley cut a quick peek at the sluagh that used to be Ian’s girlfriend. Besides her chalky skin, she looked no different than the pictures Harley had seen of her, pigtails and all. Cynthia hadn’t been turned long enough for her body to reflect what she’d become.

  “Ian, h-h-help m-me.” Cynthia stretched an arm out. “I hurt.”

  Ian’s sword disappeared. He stepped forward.

  Harley grasped his wrist. “That’s not really Cynthia. She’s a puppet.”

  “Yes, my puppet, and I am Dar’s.” Raul continued forward, forcing Trevor to move with him. Raul slammed a fist into Trevor’s back, dropping him to his knees. “Dar has ordered me to prepare your friend to receive his bloody cap, but I’d rather feed my newest sluagh. She’s hungry.”

  Harley choked on bile. “Don’t do it.”

  “Come here, Cynthia.” One corner of Raul’s mouth lifted.

  Cynthia’s body jerked. She walked stiffly toward where Raul stood. Her fingernails lengthened.

  “No!” Ian lurched forward.

  Cynthia pivoted on her heel and ran. Ian followed. They disappeared into the woods. A roar pierced the night. Cynthia’s screech came next.

  Harley blocked it out and met Raul’s confident gaze. He’d planned his trap well. “Let Trevor go.”

  “Not until you give me what I want.”

  Harley glanced from the warning in Trevor’s eyes to the smug look on Raul’s face. “What do you want?”

  “You. You’re my ticket to redemption.”

  A bitter laugh escaped. “Is this your way to earn my affection? Because let me tell you, it’s pretty pathetic.”

  He shrugged. “You took that option away from me. No matter. I’ll still get what I want. I always get what I want. Remember that.”

  She stepped forward and held out her hand. “Let Trevor come to me. Then we’ll talk, okay?”

  “Dar has played us both.” He slid his finger to the trigger. “I’m done with his games. I refuse to be anyone’s pawn again.”

  Her heart knocked hard against her rib cage. “Don’t, Raul. Please.”

  More of Cynthia’s shrieks carried through the night. They cut off abruptly. Ian’s agonized roar filled the silence.

  A sharp pain stabbed her chest. Oh God. Cynthia. Ian had killed her.

  “Yes, now it’s time.” Raul whipped the gun and pointed it at her.

  A pop sounded. She jerked. Pain exploded in her belly. Her mouth opened on a soundless scream. Two more bullets hit her, and she fell.

  Raul knelt over her and pressed a balled-up rag to her gut. “You see, Harley,” he held up the bloody fabric, “I always get what I want.”

  Calan. She had to reach him. She pictured his eyes, saw him fighting, but a fist to her face stopped her from connecting with him.

  Raul’s laugh followed her into oblivion.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Calan swung his sword. Another redcap’s head fell. Three more charged him, their own swords extended. The redcaps were well trained, but they were no match for him. All they succeeded in doing was waste his time and piss him off. They blocked him from reaching Dar. Calan raised his flaming blade just as his hounds spilled into the clearing.

  Left tied to Ian and under his command, the hounds couldn’t touch Calan’s mind automatically. Calan opened himself to them, then searched their memories for the reason they’d come to him. The information they fed him tore a curse from him. He’d suspected a trap. No matter. Both Raul and Dar would pay for their crimes tonight. Ian knew how imperative it was that Raul died. Calan would trust in his new Huntsman. He had no other choice. Dealing with Dar had to come first.

  Calan gutted the last redcap and pivoted on his heel.

  Dar stood by his car, a smirk on his face.

  Calan drew on the power in the air around him and used it to fuel his limbs. He closed the distance between them and tackled Dar. A swipe of his clawed hand to the fairy’s back ripped a snarl from the Dar’s throat. His image of youthfulness faded, replaced by his true form—monstrous, hideous, deformed.

  He spun and returned the blow. Sharpened nails ripped Calan open from his chest to his stomach. Blood gushed out. The wound barely registered. He dug his fist into Dar’s gut and yanked. The sickening stench of Dar’s rotten insides choked Calan. He ignored it and slammed his knee into the wound.

  The fairy’s shriek pierced the night. Calan held him immobile and reached for the blade strapped to his thigh. Without wasting a moment, he plunged it into Dar’s heart and waited for the look of agony to distort the fairy’s saggy, blackened face.

  Prayed for it.

  A smile spread instead.

  Dar bucked, tossing Calan off. Stunned, Calan sat on the ground and watched Dar pull the dagger out. He flung it. The knife pierced the ground between them.

  “Foolish Hunter.” Dar pushed to his feet, his cloak sliding over his rotten body again. “You can’t transfer the curse to me when you’ve already given it to your fairy mate.”

  Wariness settled over him. “You knew?”

  “About Harley being yours? Yes, Raul told me. And the curse?” Dar wiped the dirt from his ass. “I guessed.”

  His father’s words skipped through Calan’s mind. “I have been deceived.”

  “Don’t lie. You didn’t allow me to stab you based on an assumption. Somebody told you. Who?” He needed to know who had betrayed Arawn and, in turn, the Huntsmen, if he had any hope of saving Harley and the world.

  “I honestly don’t know. The information simply dropped in my lap.”

  Calan curled his fists, and his talons pierced his palm. Blood dripped. “So you came to torture me?”

  “Of course, but I also came to congratulate you and welcome you into the family. You are my son now.”

  “And Harley is your daughter. She will suffer.”

  “She is a tool, nothing more.” Dar shrugged. “Family means nothing to me, neither does my Court, not any longer. Soon I will have a new one, a powerful one, and my followers will help me win the greatest game of all time. I will emerge the victor, remember that.”

  Calan tensed. Dar’s words mirrored his father’s. “What game? Who are the players?”

  “The greatest of all. And the players?” Dar chuckled. “Everyone plays a role. Some simply have a more weighted piece than others.” He walked toward the car’s open door. “Thank Harley for her gift, my son. It will come in handy.”

  He got in. The car backed up, turned and peeled away. Calan stood there, defeated in more ways than one. He couldn’t even relish the satisfaction of ripping Dar’s head from his body and transporting him to Hell. Uncursed, he’d simply fade into the fairy realm. At least with Dar in the mortal world, Calan could hunt him once he fixed the mess he’d made.

  He pivoted and faced the aftermath of his battle. The sluaghs had disintegrated, but the redcaps lay where they’d fallen. He stepped over their lifeless bodies and ran the way he’d come. Dar’s departing words worried him.

  What gift? Harley wouldn’t give Dar anything. Not willingly, at least.

  A roar reached his ears. The mark of the Hunt pulsed, and Ian’s agony poured into Calan’s mind. He drew it in and reached for Ian. Disorder swamped the link between them. Ian’s rational thoughts unraveled. Fury took over. Hatred mixed with it. The last of Ian’s rational mind shut down.

  Calan did the only thing he could. He shoved a bolt of pure energy into Ian’s body. His heart stopped, but not before Calan caught the reason why Ian had given in to his rage.

  Harley falling, blood soaking her shirt.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Wake up, Harley.”

  Somebody shook her. Harley pried her eyelids apart, and Trevor’s bruised face filled her vision. She pushed into a sitt
ing position. Memories returned. She pressed a hand to her stomach. Cold, sticky blood met her touch.

  “Raul.”

  Trevor helped her stand and slid an arm around her shoulders to steady her swaying body. “He’s one sick motherfucker. We’re damn lucky he didn’t kill us.”

  No, he’d done something much worse.

  “What did he do with the rag he pressed to my belly?”

  Trevor frowned. “He folded it, put it in a bag and…”

  She grabbed his shoulders. “What else?”

  “He did the same with three more, then he collected several vials of your blood before taking off.”

  She staggered back, a hand over her mouth. Three bloody caps soaked in her blood. Three more redcaps who’d be invisible to the Hunt. Raul was going to make his own army, using her as its shield.

  “I got out of my bindings as quick as I could, but—” Calan’s roar stopped Trevor’s words.

  She spun in time to see Calan leap from his horse. He tugged her into his arms. “What happened?”

  “Dar? Did you transfer the curse back to him?”

  “No.” Calan lifted the torn shirt from her belly and skimmed his fingertips over her skin. “What did Raul do?”

  “The fucker stole her blood and killed Ian.” Trevor knelt next to Ian’s still form. “He was about to attack Raul but grabbed his chest and toppled over instead.”

  “Dead!” She ran to Ian and fisted his shirt. “No! He can’t be dead.”

  His cold skin told her otherwise. He was gone. She knew what death looked like, and Ian wore its welcoming mask.

  “No, no, no.” She shook him. “Don’t leave me.”

  She heard male voices, felt something brush against her mind, knew she wasn’t alone, but couldn’t pull herself out of the sorrow. Or the rage.

  Dead.

  Her beloved brother was dead.

  Her vision blurred, and an anger she’d never known gripped her. Within one heartbeat and the next, the ache that centered in her chest spread, cutting off the outside world and pulling her inside herself, where only her despair ruled. Fire raced through her blood, and her pulse pounded, reverberating in her ears. Laughter added to the thump. She knew the sound, had heard it before, the night she’d stabbed Raul. The wicked glee had come from her mouth.

  Fear sparked. She was slipping, losing her battle.

  Calan! She needed him to save her.

  Strong hands clasped her arms. She was shaken. Yelled at. Kissed. Each press of warm lips to her skin eased the burn in her veins. Her caught breath rushed out. She sucked in another breath, and the scent of a campfire infused her. The laughter cut off, and Calan’s heartbeat replaced it—calm, steady, reassuring. She focused on it. Finally, hers picked up the same rhythm.

  She slumped against him. He truly was her hero, all she needed in life. She squeezed him tightly.

  “Ian?” Her brother’s name was all she could manage.

  “Is fine.” Calan answered her unspoken question. “He’s immortal. He’ll heal, but I had to…”

  She tipped her head to peer at him. “You had to what?”

  “I did what I had to do. He’d slipped into the lure of the Hunt. I hadn’t realized why soon enough.” He laid a hand on Ian’s shoulder. White light spread over him, and his image faded. “He will heal. I promise you.”

  She nodded in relief, but her guilt choked her. She’d fallen for Raul’s trap and endangered the men she loved. “I tried to reach for you, but I wasn’t quick enough.”

  Instead of yelling at her, he rained kisses over her face. “It’s okay.”

  “No it’s not. I—”

  “Shh, love.” He lifted her into his arms. “What’s done is done. I will find the redcap and kill him.”

  “He soaked three extra cloths and took vials of my blood.”

  Calan closed his eyes. He worked his jaw back and forth but didn’t curse. He blew out a rough breath. “Then I will find all the redcaps linked to you.”

  His easy acceptance stirred her anxiety. “What happened? Why didn’t you transfer the curse back?”

  He pierced Trevor with a hard look. “Go with my hounds to the house and stay there.”

  Trevor’s features tightened. He glanced from the spot where Ian had been, back to them and nodded. He limped away, three hounds surrounding him.

  Alone, Calan faced her. “Dar tricked me, but it won’t happen again.”

  “What are you hiding?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Are you going after him?”

  “No, I’m done hunting tonight.” He tightened his grip on her. “I need my mate’s touch.”

  She settled against his chest and took comfort in his scent and warmth. Something told her she’d better treasure it, because Calan was lying to her. Whatever it was he was hiding had everything to do with her.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Calan strode into Harley’s house and came to terms with his fate.

  “You always have two choices, child. The right one and the wrong one.”

  His father had spoken the truth. Calan hadn’t wanted to accept it, but he could no longer deny it. He only hoped the time wasted reaching his decision hadn’t destroyed his chance of winning. The game he had been forced to play, whether it was conceived by some unknown entity or fate itself, wasn’t one he could lose. Harley’s, his siblings’ and the world’s future depended on it.

  Calan carried Harley into the largest bedroom in the house. Her unease beat at him. He drew it into himself, but the source of it remained.

  She knew he’d lied.

  He pushed away the guilt. There was nothing he could do about it. He lifted her hand and kissed her palm, right over where their partial mate bond marked their connection.

  It would be the last time he saw it.

  Arawn’s offer was the only option Calan could live with: a choice made out of love, even if it, at the moment, it didn’t feel as if love was the driver behind it.

  Once free of his bond, he would be able to transfer the curse to Dar. Afterward… Well, he didn’t know what would happen. Harley would be back in the same position he’d found her. She wouldn’t have a mate to shield her from the tempting lure of her heritage. She’d have her honor, nothing more.

  Unless…unless, she accepted another Huntsman as a mate.

  He cringed at the thought, but in all honesty, it would be her best option. Maybe once his brothers were free, she would come to love one of them. She deserved a life filled with happiness and affection, and he would make sure she found it, even if it wasn’t with him.

  He buried his face in Harley’s silken, platinum curls and allowed the remorse to settle in his heart. Tomorrow, he would go to Arawn and have his tie to Harley severed. Until then, he would worship his mate.

  Carefully, he set her on her feet and sliced away the shirt and bra stuck to her skin. No mark showed on her flat stomach, but he kissed her firm abs where he suspected the shot had injured her. Flicks of his tongue flooded his senses with her sweet and tangy blood. A moan escaped him. He licked the rest away, stood and captured her lips.

  He loved her, more than he thought possible. So strong, so beautiful, so noble.

  His flower in the midst of death.

  He poured his devotion into the melding of their mouths. Rougher, quicker, he twined their tongues. He skimmed his hands over her back and pulled her closer. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him everything. He felt her love in every touch and stroke. It warmed him from the inside out, but there was one thing he had to ensure before he could savor it. He broke their kiss and held her face in his hands.

  “I feel your love for me, but you cannot give me the words. You cannot complete our bond.”

  She tensed. “Why?”

  “You must trust me, my be
autiful flower. Give me this night without questioning why.” He closed his eyes. The guilt pierced his heart. “I will tell you the reason before I leave you tomorrow. Until then, I want to feel your love. I need it.”

  Featherlight strokes skimmed over his cheek. She traced his jaw, chin and lips. “Look at me.”

  He opened his eyes, and her warm blue ones ensnared him. He allowed the spell they wove to work through him.

  “I want to be the mate you need. If my silence is what you require, you will have it.” She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. “Now make love to me. Show me how you feel.”

  He lifted her, a hand on her bottom, and held her close while he devoured her. She returned his passion, kissing him deeply. Her flavor and scent wrapped around him. She made good on her promise. Her love seeped into him, surrounded and uplifted him. He drank it all in. Every touch and sound was imprinted on his mind. The brush of her fingers along his neck and the squirming of her bottom over his trapped cock ramped up his desire.

  He carried her to the bathroom, never breaking their kiss until he reached the closed door. She shifted her attention to his neck as he turned the knob. He wanted all the reminders of tonight washed away. Nothing would taint his memory of their loving. It would have to last him an eternity.

  He sat her on the wide double-basin sink and tugged off her shirt, then his. The boots he kicked into the corner by the toilet, socks flying somewhere behind him. His jeans came off next. They too got tossed to the side. He stood there in the large master bath, completely naked and more exposed than he’d ever been with a female.

  Harley gripped the edge of the marble sink. Her unbound breasts rose and fell with her rapid breaths. The wild mass of her platinum curls cascaded over her shoulders. Unable to stop himself, he captured one of the long waves. They were natural, he knew that, but never in his life had he seen a female with hair like Harley’s. He tugged, straightening the winding strands, and studied the mix of colors in her nearly white hair. Silver, blonde, gray and gold weaved into the tresses he held. He released the lock. It curled and bounced before settling against her chest.