by Kiki Howell
“Nice work.” Conrad nodded at the golden-haired Tylwyth Teg.
The fae straightened his jacket, like the praise was merely his due. “I will take Bettina to the medical wing. I know where it is.”
“No.” Lori didn’t want her sister alone with a strange man. Not after what she’d seen...
“It will be okay,” Betty said softly.
“I’m sorry.” Thorne met her sister’s gaze, gently touching her cheek. Betty almost hid her wince.
“It’s not your fault.” She looked away.
“I left you.”
“Father did what he could. But his hands were tied.”
The irony burned like acid. The fae law that had kept Lori alive all these years had been the same one that had trapped Betty.
“If you hurt one hair on her head...” Lori said to Walker.
“I will ensure she comes to no harm.”
He seemed like a decent enough fellow, but looks were deceiving in the fae world. The prettier the face, the bigger the monster. Conrad was a perfect example.
And to think, I had started to fall in love with him.
Shock rooted her to the spot.
No.
She’d only known him five days. You couldn’t fall in love that quickly. Sure, she’d heard about people who had, but they were the exceptions to the rule. So what that he was funny, protective and kind of sweet? He killed people for a living.
“Shall we?” Walker’s strong voice cut through her thoughts. He nodded at Betty.
Lori’s sister looked at the lithe Tylwyth Teg for a long moment, then she gave her sibling a quick, and surprising hug. “The baby is okay,” she whispered.
“What?”
But Betty just nodded, and then followed Walker into the castle, leaving Lori standing on the portico like an idiot.
She was pregnant? Really?
The earliest detectable pregnancy in the world.
But then, the fae weren’t like humans, and she had no idea about Succubi pregnancies.
Maybe I should go with them? she thought, but they were already out of sight.
“Thorne? You okay?” Conrad’s voice was quiet.
She ignored the question. How could she be okay after what had happened? Watching her brother kill their father. Learning that Jayden had...wanted...Betty all these years.
“Conrad? Is that even your name?”
He nodded. “Conrad Death.”
Lori looked at his hair. Yeah, she could see how he’d earned his nickname. That, and he worked for the Dawn Court.
“What now?” she asked.
“I have to go and explain this situation to my...boss.”
“Your boss?”
“Yeah, I don’t just decide on who to kill, you know. It’s assigned.”
For some reason, that didn’t really make her feel better.
“Then, by all means, let’s go meet your boss.”
THEY WAITED IN AN OFFICE that was bigger than her apartment. A bookcase covered one wall and the view of the gardens was spectacular. A wooden desk took pride of place, with two red leather chairs in front. Lori frowned at the cat scratcher and sheepskin rug tucked in the far corner. The office owner had a pet car?
“May as well take a seat,” Conrad said, lowering himself into one of the red chairs.
Hesitating briefly, Lori followed suit. She tapped her fingers on the armrest.
He reached out, closing a warm hand over her wrist. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“You lied to me.”
Wow. Her mouth had gone off without consulting her brain first. But there you go. Out of everything she could have said, that was the most pressing concern. Her new abilities churned within her, wanting out, hoping to punish him for hurting her.
His sexy mouth thinned. “I told you I was a cleaner.”
“I thought that meant you were a janitor!”
He laughed, surprised. “Me? A janitor?”
“What’s wrong with that? It’s honest work.”
“No, I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it. But me? Doing that? Have you seen my eight-pack?”
“What? You could have worked out.”
“Well, yeah, I do.” He ran a bloodstained hand through his hair.
The door opened to the outer hall, and a tall, slender woman stepped into the room, her slit-pupil eyes coming to rest on the two of them. Her pointy ears were exposed by her upswept hairstyle. Cait Sídhe? Lori had never seen one before.
“Death? What is the meaning of this—”
Conrad stood. “Lady Whisky.”
Lori didn’t move. She was a Lander, and while she was fae, she did not recognize any court lords’ authority. She only bowed to the baron who ruled New Vegas.
“And this is?”
“Thorne – uh, I mean – Laurel Paynters.”
The woman blinked a handful of times.
“Laurel, this is Countess Whiskertine.”
Lori nodded. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but...”
“Quite right.” Lady Whiskertine hurried into the room and behind the desk. She sat, smoothing her long cream dress as she did so. A frowned marred her forehead. “I told you to kill the bastard daughter. Not the count and his son.”
Conrad winced. “You already know about that?”
“News travels fast.” She pulled out a phone. “We do have the Internet.”
Lori raised a hand. “So, uh, since I’m the bastard in question. What does that mean for me?”
“That,” a new voice said, “is an excellent question.”
Lori spun in her chair, eyes widening. A woman was standing just inside the glass wall; of average height, she had long white hair coiled on her head in loose curls around a white metal tiara, and a long white ballgown cascaded over her body in a flow of silk. She was beautiful, in the way of the Tuatha de Danann.
Her cold gray eyes took in the room, lingering on Conrad, and she took a deep breath, as if to taste the air.
Lori didn’t have to be told the stranger’s identity, she wasn’t an idiot. She swept into a bow; one did not mess with the four fae queens.
Not unless you wanted to die.
“Your Majesty,” she said.
“Death. Lady Whiskertine. And my dead friend’s bastard daughter. What a surprise.”
“Indeed.” Conrad’s voice was smooth as satin.
“Lady Whiskertine, may I borrow your office?”
The Cait Sídhe stood. “Of course.” She slid out the room.
The queen walked around the desk; Gwyndolen Dubois was utterly poised, and flicking her skirts, she settled into the countess’ chair in one elegant movement. As she placed her hands on the desk, Lori spotted that her nails were manicured in a white polish.
She really took that part of her title seriously.
“I have heard some rather unsettling news,” the queen said.
Conrad and Lori both settled back into their seats. Neither said anything.
“The Count of Tears is dead. As is his son and heir.”
Conrad nodded.
“And his son’s body was found in a rather...compromising position. It has your signature all over the kill.” Her gray eyes narrowed.
The look was so familiar, Lori bit her lip. She looked at Conrad, then back at the queen again. “I thought you said you didn’t know who your mother was.”
Horrified, she covered her mouth with her hands. She hadn’t just blurted that out?
Conrad frowned. “I don’t.”
Oh. She had.
“But—” Lori waved a hand at the White Queen. The woman’s face was impassive.
“The queen? My mother?” He laughed.
“How is that humorous?” The queen’s voice was pure steel.
Conrad snapped his mouth shut. “You’re my mother?”
She sighed. “Yes.”
That was it? Yes? What kind of a woman was she?
“But...I was raised in an orphanage.”
“You we
re unstable. I did not have time to see to your care. And until you had your powers under control, you were a liability.”
“But why wasn’t I told?” Conrad asked, bewildered.
“There was no benefit.”
To the queen, perhaps, but Conrad should have known. Anger burned in Lori. How dare this woman deny her son a family? “Why have you led him to believe he is indentured to you? As your son, he is a free man.”
That cold gaze swiveled to her. “If he was my acknowledged son, then yes. But he is not.”
“Why?”
Conrad made a shushing motion with his hand, but Lori pretended she didn’t see it.
“It would paint a target on his back. The Black Queen has the right idea of that, at least.”
For some reason, Lori didn’t think that her keeping Conrad alive was an act of empathy. “If he’s killed, you look weak.”
A tilt of the head. “Quite so.”
Conrad’s jaw clenched. “So I’m a better tool?”
“Don’t sound so bitter. Most fae parents would have slaughtered you in your crib for your...deformity. I thought to give you a chance.”
How magnanimous of her.
“Thank you.” Ah, sarcasm, thy name is Conrad.
Lori’s abilities strained against her control. Not her.
There was still a chance they might survive.
“So now I have a problem,” the queen said. “My dear friend asked me to take care of his little issue, and now he is dead, as is his heir. What of the other daughter?”
“She is being treated at the infirmary here,” Conrad replied, his expression shuttered.
“Why did you kill them? I said I wanted her,” the queen nodded at Lori, “dead.”
“Jayden killed Father,” Lori said. “Then Bettina and I attacked Jayden. Conrad dealt the killing blow to him.”
The White Queen considered. “And so you made it look like a hit.”
“If I killed him, I’d have to take over the county,” Conrad said. “It looks like a power play, rather than interference from the courts.”
The monarch almost looked...proud?
“Did you inherit the count’s abilities?” she asked Lori.
What should she say? Since she didn’t know the nature of the queen’s magic, she said, “Yes.”
“I see.”
“I want the hit on Laurel called off,” Conrad said.
“Do you?”
“If you send anyone after her, I will kill them myself.”
He would?
Wait, that wasn’t sweet. He was threatening to murder people.
To protect you.
“Since the point was to prevent the Transfer Spell from working, so that Melvyn could pass his powers onto his other daughter, Bettina, my request is moot.”
“Wait.” Lori leaned forward. “He wanted Betty to have his powers? Not Jayden?”
“He was concerned for her safety.”
Lori winced. He’d wanted to protect Betty by killing her.
But then, she could almost understand that. Almost. Especially after what Jayden had wanted.
The queen stood. “You will renounce the county.”
Conrad shook his head. “No.”
“No?”
“I’ve done my service to you. The county is mine.”
“Don’t think this will mean you’re free. I own you, Conrad. When I call, come running. I wouldn’t want your little friend here to suffer. Or your unborn child.”
“My what?” Conrad locked wild-eyes on Lori. “It was four – maybe five – days ago!”
“Succubi pregnancies are only six months. Four days is all it takes.”
Thanks for the lesson in anatomy.
“You know she’s a Succubus?”
The queen walked from the desk to take in the garden view. “The last of her kind. You wouldn’t want me to be responsible for the extinction of an entire race, now would you?”
And with that, she disappeared through the glass wall.
.
Chapter Seventeen
“I NEVER THOUGHT I HAD mommy issues. Until I found out who my mother was.”
– Conrad Death
The White Queen was his mother? And Thorne was pregnant?
He needed alcohol. Like, a ton of it. Metric or otherwise.
The main door opened and Whisky strolled back in. “I take it everything is resolved?”
He nodded numbly, climbing to his feet. “You’re looking at the new Count of Tears.”
“Nobility suits you. It’s nice you’ve finally donned it.”
Conrad’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, you knew? About the White Queen?”
“Of course. The physical resemblance is obvious.”
“Was I the only one who didn’t know?”
“Oh, I’m sure the court hasn’t realized, but they aren’t exactly the brightest.”
Implying he was also as thick as a brick.
Well, considering Thorne had worked it out in about five seconds flat, he probably was.
He held out his hand to Thorne, who stood slowly and took it. As soon as their palms met, a tingle shot through his entire body. She let go with a hiss.
“What was that?” She rubbed her hand on her bloodied clothing.
“I don’t know.” It was like his ability had reached out, and touched hers, only to shrink back.
Maybe her absorbing talent had been sated by the Transfer Spell? Or her root power didn’t want his back?
Thorne and Conrad were halfway out the door when Whisky called out. “Good luck.”
He turned back and gave her a small smile. It was the politest exchange they’d ever had.
“Can we check on Betty?” Thorne asked.
“Soon.”
He grabbed her hand again – nothing happened this time – and hurried them toward his rooms. It was time to pack.
Once inside his suite, Lori stared around the space, and let go of his hand. “Why are we here?”
“It’s my room.”
“You lived here?”
“Yes.”
“It’s so...cushy.”
“Yeah, I guess.” They were in the White Palace, of course it was luxe.
He grabbed a duffle bag from the closet, and threw in some clothes, along with his most prized possessions: the little black book outlining his kills, and his copy of Alice in Wonderland.
Thorne disappeared from view, and he heard a low whistle. She poked her head out of the bathroom. “Can I use your shower?”
He flashed her a smile.
“Not for that. I’m covered in blood and vomit.”
“When you put it like that...”
He returned to packing. The shower turned on, and within five minutes, it was off. Thorne emerged wearing nothing but a towel, except this time all the fun bits were covered.
“Can I borrow some clothes?”
He handed her a T-shirt and a pair of tracksuit pants with an elastic waistband.
“Thanks,” she said.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. God, her skin was so smooth. “You don’t have to go in there to change.”
“Conrad, we can’t just go back to how it was.”
“I don’t want that.”
Her sadness hit him like a two-by-four to the head.
He wet his lips. This was harder than he thought. “I...like you, Thorne. A lot. I don’t want just sex from you.”
“It’s because I’m pregnant, isn’t it?”
He hadn’t even thought about that, for like, ten whole minutes. “I assume the baby’s mine?”
She shut her eyes. “Yes.”
He cupped her cheek. “That’s good.”
Fuck, he thought. Something inside him snapped into place, like a puzzle piece he’d been missing his whole life. He was going to be a father. Have a family. A smile spread over his face, and he didn’t fight it. He wanted her to see that the idea of a kid made him happy.
Her face flushed as she realized he meant it. �
��You want the baby?”
“Not just the baby.”
Her mouth formed the most adorable ‘O’.
“Look, I don’t expect you to feel the same about me. But I want you, Thorne. And once I realized who they wanted me to kill, I would never have done it. You got to me here,” he rubbed his chest, “and I am not willing to walk away so easily.”
“I thought you were saying goodbye when you left. You got your power back, fucked me, and then walked away.”
Her pain reached him through his gift, but it didn’t matter – he already felt like a total piece of shit.
“That was an asshole thing of me to do. But I had to meet Walker. I swear, I didn’t know you were my target until I got to the county. And I always intended to come back, after I’d finished my mission.”
“You didn’t know it was me?”
Gods, her eyes were filled with unshed tears.
“No.”
She exhaled, her worry and fear departing with the breath.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He ran a thumb over her plump lower lip.
She nipped his finger.
Blood rushed to his cock, the bastard growing hard instantly. She stepped up to him, her palms smoothing over his shoulders. “This is the part where you kiss me.”
Leaning down, his breath fanned over her face. “I like how you think.”
Their mouths met, hungry and demanding. She tasted amazing, her tongue thrusting into his mouth, driving him insane. Mmmm. Ploughing his fingers through her hair, he tilted her head, meeting her punishing kiss.
Someone knocked on the door.
Grabbing her ass, he lifted her, so her breasts were pressed against his chest, her lower stomach hard against his cock.
Another knock.
He pulled away with a groan, breathing deeply. “Go away!”
“Open the damned door, Death!”
That had him pausing. Swearing, he let go of Thorne. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her.
He readjusted his aching erection, and pulled out his shirt for cover. He waited as Thorne quickly dressed. Opening the door, he glowered at Walker. “What?”
“Uh, figured you’d want us to meet you here.” The Tylwyth Teg looked up him and down, and quickly smothered a smirk behind a raised hand.
Asshole.
Betty peeked around Walker. “Thorne?”
The Succubus walked into sight. “Betty?”
The young woman sighed with relief and hurried inside the room. “They healed my hands.”
