Fated to the Traitor (Portal City Protectors Book 4)

by Georgette St. Clair

  He kept counting, even going to twenty to give enough time to hide. Her small stature could only take her so far so fast. When he opened his eyes, Arturo waited, sitting in a chair with a newspaper in his hands.

  “Want to tell me which way she went?”

  “No.”

  Great, no help there.

  Carlo decided he may have to rethink being second-in-command, but he went in search for the little pup. After a few minutes of finding nothing, he went back to the foyer. He was surprised he couldn’t sense her. There was no scent, no sound. But there must have been no cause for alarm because Arturo never moved from his seat. She had to be close.

  Carlo spun around to head to the other side of the house, and a streak of yellow raced past him. He bellowed, falling to his knees once more, pain radiating from his balls.

  She’d hit him. Again.

  He heard her tinkling laughter, but she was gone again.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Watch your language with my granddaughter. You must be getting soft in your old age if that hurt.”

  Carlo was not old. He may have had some years under his belt, but for a wolf, that was nothing. Isadora would not get the better of him.

  Until he took a step and she blitzed by him again.

  Oh great, my balls are going to be inside me soon.

  He hit the ground snarling.

  Five more times he couldn’t find her.

  Five more times she took him to his knees with well-placed hits to his family jewels.

  He now knew why he’d been so uncomfortable when he saw the look on Isadora’s face. She was looking for revenge for not being able to go to the park, and he was her patsy. The fucking shrew was brilliant, he’d give her that. Still, Arturo did nothing. Never moved, never offered a hand in corralling his granddaughter.

  “She shouldn’t know how to do this, Alpha.”

  “And you should be better at the game.”

  Growling in frustration and pain, Carlo went in search for the little girl once more, this time sending out his senses to detect her. He got lucky. She came flying from his left, and he gripped her shoulders before she could hit him again.

  “Got you!”

  Yeah, sure, until she opened her mouth and wailed.

  Carlo realized two very important things in that moment.

  One, her screams hurt.

  Two, Arturo was just as fast as his granddaughter, and a hell of a lot less forgiving when he slammed Carlo to the ground.

  Silva was right—Rosemary’s baby.

  Chapter Eight

  “What is the worst memory?”

  Heath wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it, or even hope he could get it clear, but it was what he needed. No, that wasn’t exactly true. The woman standing in front of him had skewed his priorities.

  Ash had become the most important reason he was in the In Between. He had to get her out of captivity.

  But what would he do with her then?

  Fuck.

  Considering who he was now and what he’d done, he could free her and she’d still be on the run. The Lombardi Pack, particularly Romano and Dominic, wouldn’t trust him around them again. If they knew Heath was in Encantado, they’d come for him. Despite their skills, Heath with his cadre and ten Renegade wolves wouldn’t stand well against the pack.

  With Kallan’s absence, he couldn’t even open a portal to get out of here. Without truly knowing what had happened in his past, and the way he’d ruined things with the Lombardi Pack making him public enemy number one, Heath had nothing to give his Foraltae.

  “My past,” he began, “is cloudy to me. Because of the lies in it, I messed up pretty bad in the Fragile.”

  “What did you do?”

  Wincing, Heath took a deep breath. “I went after a Fae I felt responsible for my abuse and the lives of my friends. But when I did, I found out she wasn’t to blame. I knew she spoke the truth, Ash. I’d sunk my blade into her chest and nearly killed her. Even now, I don’t know if she actually survived, but I have to hope she did. She was … linked to another soul. My mistake could’ve taken both of them.”

  Ash cocked her head to one side and perched on a fluffy brown couch inside their dreamscape. What Heath wouldn’t give for it to be real, to have some place to call his own.

  After a moment, she tapped her chin. “This female … did you love her?”

  “No.” His denial exploded out of him. “It was never like that. She was Queen of the Seelie, and she signed off on what happened to me. Stood before me and destroyed everything dear to me.”

  Ash’s gasp and sudden pallor made Heath feel even more like shit. His Foraltae was Seelie, even if she’d been trapped for some time. She’d know about Silva, or at least her real name—Niamh.

  “I thought she’d sentenced me to death.”

  He tried to explain, but even to him it sounded weak. He’d been so fucking sure, so angry and determined to seek revenge. If he’d been right, no one would have been able to argue against him for what he’d done.

  Well, Romano wouldn’t have cared if Heath had been right if his mate had found death as well.

  Dominic was loyal to those he considered part of his pack, and it would’ve been war.

  No matter what Heath did, right or wrong, he would have been no better than Silva. He’d have taken away what was most precious to them because of what he thought was right.

  “You need to see the truth. It binds you, yes? Without it, you can’t move forward, and the sooner you do, the sooner you can save me.”

  “And take you back to what?”

  “Any place is better than here, Heath.”

  He wasn’t so sure about that, but he needed to know the truth. Ash was right on that account. He couldn’t make things right, couldn’t move forward without knowing what really happened that day.

  “My worst memory is the day I was chosen by my master.”

  Ash stood, her hips swaying like rolling waves as she came toward him. “Then we go there, together.”

  He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this. To have a chance to have her beside him. Heath pulled her into his arms, breathing deeply of her salty mosaic scent. He anchored himself around her body and nodded.

  “Show me.”

  “Unseelie, male, shadow and glamour skills,” the overseer announced.

  “Can his fighting be controlled so I can direct his blade?”

  Heath didn’t know the man the overseer was speaking to. There was a familiarity about him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  The overseer nodded, an evil glint in his eye. “For the extra price, yes. A spell like that would have to be inscrolled within his slave mark.”

  “Do it. He took out an Escala. He’s a perfect fit for my needs.”

  Heath bit back a groan, his cheek plastered to the floor by a magicked collar around his neck that was bolted to the ground. They’d put him on his knees, shackled his ankles down as well, and then bound his wrists behind his back.

  He was naked, exposed, put on display for the fucking Seelie studying him for purchase.

  This is not servitude. He said a slave mark.

  Everything hurt.

  The overseer, shrouded in a dark, hooded cloak, lifted his steel-booted foot and kicked Heath in the gut. Heath gasped, choking on his own bile. His skin burned, stretched tight until it itched.

  They’ve taken my magic.

  Without his shadow, he couldn’t guard against the blow and save himself from the insidious need to spew the meager contents of his gut. The overseer kicked again, jamming his toe in more to spread the burning ache.

  “You see? The spell takes away his defenses, making him perfectly safe.”

  We are nothing but cattle.

  Heath forced himself to scan his surroundings. They could try to break him, but he’d find a way to get out.

  He was not the only one captured.

  Around him, Unseelie eyes flared with pain, fear, and ang
er in varying shades of sparking colors. They were all trapped. All naked.

  All abused and covered in a myriad of bruises.

  “What has been done here?”

  Heath looked to the new, feminine voice and watched as the Seelie fell to their knees, heads bowed.

  “Queen Niamh, you honor us. We didn’t know you’d be here today.”

  The Fae Queen nodded. “Release them. They are not animals.”

  The overseer got to his feet. “They are murderers and rapists, my Queen.”

  Silver flashed, her glittering crown taking what little light there was in the darkened room. “Then put them in cells to be properly released to labor, Joran. We agreed on this.”

  “This is for our safety.”

  “I will not have any citizen of Seraph treated like this. They have been sent here to pay for their crimes, but it does not mean they have no dignity. Fix it, now.”

  For a moment, Heath hoped things would get better. But when the Queen of the Seelie left the room, his overseer turned on him with snarled words.

  “Keep it as planned. I have her seal with our betrothal, and the little snit has more power than she knows how to wield. Soon, I will be Regent, and she’ll warm my bed until I can get rid of her too.”

  No.

  The man Heath didn’t recognize shrugged his shoulders. “If you can promise my protection, I’ll buy him. I’ve been looking to see how much pain an Unseelie can truly handle.”

  “Done. Double my fee, and I’ll be happy to protect all of your investments,” the overseer promised with a grim smile.

  The Seelie grumbled but nodded. “As you suggest, my King.”

  “I rather love the sound of that.”

  King? Who were these men? Nooooooo!

  He was a beautiful male, cut from the hardest of jewels and polished to perfection. The silver starbursts in his eyes sparked and danced as he watched her. Oh, how she wanted to reach out and trace her fingers along the strength of his jawbone. To know the velvet touch of his skin as intimately as she knew her own.

  But he didn’t know who she was.

  From his memories, she saw what he did not want to share.

  She’d saved her sister once, torn and broken from flame and shadow—a skill she knew Heath possessed. And this vision, the clarity of his memories, destroyed him.

  Seeing Silva in all her beauty and the regal attire of the throne broke Ash’s heart. She hadn’t been cruel or hateful. Silva had been fooled, lied to right under her nose, and she hadn’t seen it coming.

  Heath had been broken not by an imposter queen, but by those around her who had used her power to do what they wanted. Asherah had to face the fact she hadn’t understood her sister either. Had failed to see how lost and alone she was in a world where their parents should have still ruled.

  She had been too young to wear the crown, and a multitude of orchestrated mistakes had led them here.

  Asherah, for one, had no doubt who was the driving force behind it all: Skuld.

  But why, or what she had to gain, Asherah didn’t know. The Norns always held court of time, monitoring fates and destinies while having only so much control directly over how those fates could change. It took a goddess or god to do such things.

  Skuld, for all her power, was no goddess.

  But she had hurt Asherah’s Foraltin, that was for sure.

  Heath curled against her chest, holding on to her with desperate arms. “It was all a lie. Fuck, Ash. I was almost a murderer behind a fucking lie. How can I touch you? How can I be anything when I am … this?”

  She listened as he spoke, but he did not let her go. She sat on the floor, having fallen with him when he came out of the memory, and he was sprawled over her lap. He was so large, nearly covering her petite form, yet he still tried to get closer.

  Her heart broke for him.

  They were alike, Heath and Ash. Two Fae tossed to the shores of fate because of another’s doing. They’d both fought for what they believed in, had tried their best to protect those they loved, but it wasn’t good enough.

  It always slipped through their fingers before they had a chance to grasp it.

  Ash pulled him closer. “You thought she was the reason for all your pain.” As have I.

  “I swear to the gods, I wish I could take it all back.”

  “But if you did, you would not be here.”

  If he could change it all, she would not have been able to feel him in this moment, would not have had the chance to see the man he’d become.

  And he was a good man.

  She saw it, felt it in how he had been with Lorack. The pain in his heart when he’d watched him die. Her Foraltin was the protector of orphans and those cast aside. He’d made a life for them and put himself at risk to keep them safe. This was a Fae who stood against the odds—always.

  And through him, she saw how imperfect the criminal exiling truly was.

  “You see all my sins. I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “That I dirtied my half of the soul.”

  He turned his face to hers, and she sucked in a breath. This close, their lips were only a heartbeat apart.

  She palmed his cheeks, holding him to her. “Sometimes, one must know darkness to know light. Perhaps, I needed what only you can give. You are here, a warrior bent on finding your way to me. I would have no want for a bard or an academic. I need your darkness, Heath. I need you.”

  He thumbed her cheek, confusion marring his face. “This is the worst way to get to know anyone, yet you stay here. You don’t turn away from me.”

  “We all have our secrets.” Asherah knew, one day, she would have to tell him who she was, but she did not want to heap guilt on him for what he’d wanted to do to her sister. Not yet. It would break them before they even had a chance, and she was also guilty of not knowing Silva’s truth.

  “Will I come to know yours?”

  “All of them.”

  “Like your name?”

  She shook her head. “Let me still be the ashes of a burned-away past for a little longer. It is unfair, I know, but I need this. Please.”

  Heath watched her for a moment, seemingly testing the weight of her words or the truth they held. “So be it.”

  He crashed his lips to hers, and she tasted freedom. His tongue was hot and slick, dueling with hers in a war of taste and need. She had lived many years—two hundred, to be exact—and no Fae had dared to touch her like this.

  Large, rough hands gripped her back and pulled her tight. Heath was taking over, lifting until he sat straight up and dragged her to sit on his lap. The fabric of her dress bunched around her legs, and she fought to get closer to her Fate, to press against the heated length digging into her hip. Finally, she ripped at the fabric with desperate hands and straddled him.

  Bliss.

  Pure bliss. His mouth was hard and unforgiving, the sharp planes of his chest pressed to the softness of her breasts. But his manhood, that delicious stretch of hardened flesh, was what she was most interested in. She worked herself against it as Heath swallowed her moans.

  Breaking the kiss, he gasped. “Gods, baby. Just like that.”

  Asherah was frantic, searching for pleasure she had not known in so long. Touch. Taste. Feel. Scent. Heath smelled of smoke and heat. He tugged on her hips with hands of a warrior, forcing her to ride his cloth-covered cock harder.

  And it was perfect. So perfect.

  Until that familiar tie jerk made her cry out.

  “Asherah.”

  They were out of time, and she had to go back.

  “I must go.”

  Heath growled, wrapping one arm around her and rolling her underneath him. “Not before you come for me. Let me see it, feel it. Remind me I’m alive, Ash.”

  He bucked against her with long, harsh strokes that made her catch her breath. He sucked his way down her throat and over the swell of her breasts.

  So close.

  When he ripped away her bodice and
sucked a nipple between his teeth, she wailed, every muscle locked in pleasure. Heat spread through her gut. Molecules broke and then snapped back together.

  “You shall always be mine.”

  But she was snatched away before she could respond, the echoes of his body against hers.

  Get closer, Foraltin, so we don’t have to be broken apart ever again.

  Chapter Nine

  “We’re clear for a three-mile radius, but shortly after that, there’s a bog I can’t get a clear bead on. The Mark Stone went haywire every time I got close.”

  Heath was just happy Cynes was back. It meant he could move closer to Ash. Although they’d only known each other a short time, the call of his soul was strong. He couldn’t deny his craving for her when she was in his presence.

  He wanted her here, even now. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t talk to her or just had to see her faded image, he wanted to know she was okay.

  “Good, Cynes. We’ll head out then. We can cover those miles in a short time if we set a good pace.”

  They didn’t need to eat or drink regularly, but they wouldn’t be able to replenish either. But Heath couldn’t afford to move slowly and conserve his strength.

  Eiravel tested the blades of his swords. “The bog, did you sense any danger?”

  “I couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t smell right.” Cynes wrinkled his nose. “Something has died there.”

  “The bog is home of the Wraiths.”

  Heath spun, his heart pounding. Gods, he was acting like a stupid lovesick puppy. Just her voice made him randy enough to want to fuck her on the nearest surface, and he didn’t care who watched.

  “Ash.”

  Cynes raised a brow. “Um, who’s Ash?”

  “His Foraltae,” Eiravel explained.

  “Yeah. Sure. That’s all well and good, but there is no one here.”

  Eiravel rolled his eyes and looked at the empty space before them. “Can you show him?”

  Ash closed her eyes for a moment.

  “Well, fuck.” Cynes’s eyes went wide.

  Heath blasted him with shadow. “You will not be fucking anything.”