by K. J. Sutton
As I reached for the door hand, I waited for his snappy comeback. It didn’t come. When I glanced toward him, I instantly saw why—Laurie was gone. But there was someone else coming toward me, his elbows swinging casually, sunglasses flashing in the sunlight. He moved down the sidewalk as if the concrete was an autowalk, and he held a coffee cup in each hand. “How are you people finding me? Do you have a tracking device on my van?” I demanded.
Dracula stopped when he was so close that I could touch him. My words made the corners of his mouth tilt upward. “Actually, that’s exactly how I found you. Will you take a walk with me, Your Majesty? I won’t take up too much of your time.”
Did he just admit to putting a tracking device on my van? Well, that was definitely something I was going to find and remove later. “Why?” I asked, unable to hide my annoyance.
“I have a proposition for you.” He held out one of the coffees cups.
A sigh filled my chest, but I didn’t let it out as I accepted the beverage.
I didn’t expect the vampire to come so soon, but I only had myself to blame. Last night, while we were standing beneath that streetlight, I’d felt overwhelmed and exhausted by his revelation. Can we do this tomorrow? I’m tired, I had said to the immortal. He courteously agreed.
It was strange to see Dracula in the daylight now. Looking at him, it seemed obvious he wasn’t human. There was something off about his movements—like the fae, he was too graceful. I got out of the van and locked the doors again. I joined Dracula on the sidewalk and took a sip from the coffee cup. The taste of espresso and milk filled my mouth.
We’d only taken a few steps when he asked, “Did you know dracula is Enochian for ‘night’?”
That actually was interesting. “No, I didn’t,” I admitted. I took another sip.
The vampire’s face turned toward me. “This is why so many mistake it for a name, rather than what it truly is.”
My eyebrows rose as I understood his meaning. I stopped and stared up at where his eyes should be. My own reflection stared back. There was only one other person on the street, and she was a block away, so I didn’t worry about us being overheard as I said, “It’s a title?”
“As you discovered during our, shall we say, spirited training session, the name given to me at birth was Bako Okafor. I lead a faction of elite fighters… and I do mean fighters, Queen Fortuna. Each of them has survived the stuff of nightmares. But they don’t turn to the darkness, because their pain and sorrow is given a purpose. A direction. Not to mention an extremely generous salary.”
Purpose. That word caught my notice. It was the same one I’d seen in his head. “What kind of purpose?” I asked, trying to sound casual. My grip tightened on the coffee cup.
“To keep the two worlds separate,” he said without hesitation. “Humanity on one side, Fallen on the other. We guard the night, and it is long.”
His voice shifted during this last part, and it sounded like something he’d said a thousand times before. Like a creed. All at once, I understood the fear I’d found in the vampire’s mind. While I’d been stealing from his library, I learned that his entire existence centered around one thing, and he dreaded failing at that thing. The fact that it wasn’t dark or nefarious was almost as surprising as the truth behind Dracula’s legend. “So, wait, are you… offering me a job?” I asked.
“Indeed I am, my lady. I was most impressed by your display at the restaurant.”
“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m Queen of the Unseelie Court. It’s kind of a full-time job,” I told him. My mind was racing again, not to consider his offer, but to evaluate how this new information could be used. If Dracula’s purpose was to keep the existence of Fallen under wraps, maybe he really was an ally.
His face showed no disappointment. Instead, he took a sip of coffee and said, “Take some time to consider my proposal. I will contact you soon.”
“Wait, what does ‘soon’ mean?” I called, but Dracula was already moving on.
Down at the corner, he walked past an old woman and her dog. I watched, frowning, as both human and canine gave Dracula a wide berth. The woman’s expression didn’t change, and there was no fear in the air. She seemed unaware that she’d done it. But as the two parties went on their way, neither looking back, I realized why.
Despite his beauty, despite his apparent youth, humans and animals shied away from Dracula. As if something living couldn’t bear being so close to death. It struck me as terribly… lonely. Once, the prospect wouldn’t have seemed so gray. But now I had known love. I had been reminded of what it was like to have a family. Every night I fell asleep surrounded by pack, and woke up to their sounds. I couldn’t go back to the quiet.
It was why I would rather be in Hell then turn to vampirism to save myself, should Gwyn successfully complete her hunt.
At least in Hell, I’d have company.
Fortuna.
The whisper was so intense it seemed as if it were right in my ear. I jerked upright, the conversation I’d been having with Oliver fading as I heard it again. Fortuna.
Silence coated the house like fine mist. Following a faint instinct, I got out of bed and crept to the window. It was covered in a layer of frost, which I scratched at to see the yard. Shavings lodged under my nails and fell to the floor.
It was one of those nights so dark that it seemed as though an enormous creature had swallowed the world whole. Gwyn stood in the snow, legs apart, boots planted. A battle stance, I thought with a rush of fear. Slowly I pulled back from the glass, and the blinds fell back into place. The frost was creeping back, obscuring the tiny opening I had made.
I walked soundlessly to the front door—I didn’t go in search of Finn, because if he wasn’t in an exhausted sleep from changing back, he was out in the woods. Once again, I put on the first pair of shoes I could reach, along with a random coat I took off a hook. I stepped into the cold and felt it down to my bones. For a moment or two, I wavered on the porch, wondering if I should run back for my weapons. But what use were bullets or blades against a creature that couldn’t be killed?
“I grow impatient, Fortuna Sworn,” Gwyn called.
Worried she would wake the others, I hurried down the steps. Frost glittered on the gravel, making the night seem whimsical and childlike. But as I drew closer to Gwyn, and saw her grip on the sword gleaming at her hip, I knew it was anything but. She hadn’t been holding it like that during our last conversation—touching her sword was a warning. A promise.
Suddenly a terrible thought occurred to me, and I slowed. What if Collith had been wrong, and Gwyn didn’t stop at my death? What if she planned to slaughter the others, too?
Without thinking, I glanced back at the house, anxious for my family’s safety. The faerie followed my gaze. I was still several yards away, but she pulled her weapon from its leather sheath and held it aloft, admiring a gleam of moonlight along its deadly edge. The flared blade seemed to emanate an eagerness that sent another whisper of fear through me. “It was a gift from Arthur,” she commented finally.
There was something in her tone that made my eyebrows go up. I pulled my coat tighter around me, trying to ward off anxiety and cold. “Are you talking about King Arthur?” I asked lightly. “My mom read those stories to me when I was a child. Great pieces of fiction.”
Gwyn lowered the blade and fixed her eyes on me. “And who are we? Gwyn of the Wild Hunt and Queen of the Unseelie Court. I suppose we are just stories, as well?”
I mustered a faint, bitter smile. “No. We are tragedies.”
My words brought an odd light to her eyes, like I’d surprised or amused her. Tilting her head, Gwyn slid her sword back into the sheath and searched my face. I knew I was looking back at her with a wary expression, which was probably like bleeding in shark-infested waters, but I couldn’t suppress how terrifying I found her.
“You’re frightened, but not nearly as frightened as you should be. Do you hope to find another means of survival?” the fa
erie asked suddenly. “There is no quarry that can hide from me, no prey that can outrun me. You will die by my hand, Fortuna Sworn. All that’s within your control is when.”
There was no pity in Gwyn’s voice, no regret in her face, and she was so fae that it sent a quake of panic through me. There was nothing mortal about this creature. Even Jassin had seemed more human.
“Maybe I’m just confident in my ability to find Creiddylad,” I said. My voice was uneven.
She closed the distance between us, moving swiftly and silently. I felt like a gazelle before a lion, too afraid to move. It was only when her fingers brushed the edge of my jaw that I recoiled… or tried to, anyway. There was nothing natural about the instant change in me, and I realized too late that Gwyn must possess an ability the history books didn’t know about. Lust crept through my mind like fog. When she kissed me, it felt like pressing my finger upon a knife’s edge, dreading the consequences, but alive with adrenaline.
Then the fog began to retreat.
I had the power of an entire Court at my back. Just as Collith couldn’t be affected by a Nightmare’s influence, so I couldn’t be overtaken by Gwyn’s. Feeling clear-headed again, I tilted my head to give her better access as she kissed her way up my neck. She probably felt the vibrations of my voice as I murmured, “You know, for all your prowess and power, there’s one thing you don’t have.”
Her voice was thick with passion, and her accent was stronger as she said, “Mmmm? What’s that?”
“Consent,” I whispered.
Moving faster than I ever had in my life, I rammed the heel of my hand into her nose. Gwyn’s head snapped back, and an explosion of blood—blue as a berry, as Laurie had so eloquently said once—splattered down her chin.
I was already backing away. I didn’t run, but it took all the self-control I had. Gwyn grinned at me, her mouth stretching too wide. Blood smeared her teeth. “Oh, you’re going to be fun,” she purred. “I can tell.”
Before I could respond, her gaze flicked to something behind me. Surprise flashed across her face. I turned slightly, wary of putting my back to the huntress. My stomach fluttered when I saw Collith, sitting on the porch steps. He wasn’t looking in our direction—his eyes were staring upward, toward the smattering of stars—but there was something about the lines of his body that made me think he was very, very aware of us.
“I’d heard rumors that you murdered your mate in cold blood,” Gwyn commented, swiping at the blood still spouting from her nostrils. “I think I’m disappointed. Rest well, Your Majesty. You’re going to need it for my next visit.”
With that ominous statement, she turned her back on me and returned to the Hunt.
The thunder of their departure followed me all the way to the house. Without a word, I sat beside Collith. The two of us gazed up at the moon, speaking in the language of silence and souls. Then our eyes caught, and neither of us looked away.
“You smell so good. It makes me want to run my tongue up the side of your neck,” I said abruptly.
Collith’s brows drew together. His expression probably matched mine. “Fortuna, did—”
Blood had already rushed to my face. “No, I didn’t mean to say that. What’s happening to me?”
“Gwyn must’ve slipped you a truth spell in her kiss,” Collith said flatly. “She does love her witches. It’s an old trick of hers—so old, in fact, that it’s become part of our nursery rhymes. It sounds a little odd in English, but the words translate to something like, ‘The hunter is old and cunning. Careful not to kiss or taste, for she will take your life and secrets’.”
He paused. I watched his expression shift as we both realized what this meant. With Gwyn’s spell still on my tongue, I had to tell the truth about everything. I’d have no choice.
Dread felt like a fingernail scraped the lining of my stomach. Though there was no longer a bond between us, I knew Collith was thinking about the question, because it was what I was thinking about. The question he asked nearly every night, after every nightmare, and never got an answer to. What happened?
I waited for him to ask.
But he didn’t. In the end, Collith just looked up at the sky again, and gratitude swelled in my throat. I knew I didn’t owe him an explanation, but I wanted to give one regardless. “I can’t talk about it. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just… can’t.”
Collith’s face lowered again. He stared at me for a moment. Then, moving slowly, he reached up and brushed my cheek with the back of his knuckles. Electricity crackled between us. I put my hand over his without thinking, and an image blinded me like a strobe light. I caught a glimpse of my own face.
Certain that I’d imagined it, or it was just the heat of the moment, I grabbed his head. Collith blinked at me, his eyes once again bright with bewilderment. “What are you doing?”
It was his fear that let me in. Not fear of me, exactly, but of how I would react to the heat between us.
Now that I was putting some effort behind it, a memory filled my head. I saw my own face again. In this strange playback, I wasn’t looking at Collith—my eyes were fixed upward, tracking the progress of a hawk. We were surrounded by trees and sky, and suddenly I recognized it. We were on our way to Astrid’s pack.
As we hiked, Collith’s gaze strayed to me again and again. How could I have been so oblivious to it? How could I not have felt the gentle pressure of his eyes, caressing my face, my body, my mouth?
Before I could withdraw from the memory, Collith’s thoughts whispered through me. No, not thoughts, exactly—they were emotions and sensations. That day, while the Unseelie King watched me, he compared me to moon and fire, everything bright and burning. He admired my fearlessness, my determination, my endurance. There was no other name for the feeling inside of him. In that moment, I knew.
It was love. Collith loved me.
Somehow, he’d kept it hidden all this time—our relationship was more than some faerie game to him. He wasn’t using me or plotting against me. All this time, I’d resisted him, thinking he was like all the others, when in fact Collith Sylvyre was unlike anyone I had ever met before.
Tears were streaming down my face. “Why didn’t you tell me, you idiot?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer; maybe he couldn’t. Feeling braver than I had in a long time, I reached down and folded my fingers through Collith’s, then pulled him to his feet. The porch groaned under our feet. A second later, we were inside. I let go of him to take off my boots and coat. When I turned back, it looked like the faerie king hadn’t moved. I took his hand again and walked toward my bedroom.
I closed the door gently, still wary of waking Finn. The darkness pressed in on all sides. I faced Collith and, after flattening my hand on his chest, guided him toward the bed. The backs of his legs hit the mattress. He sat down carefully, as if he thought I was going to change my mind any second.
I wasn’t. Not this time. “Do you want me?” I asked, meeting his gaze across so much pain and so many shadows.
Collith was breathing hard now, as though he’d just run for miles and miles. He responded to my question by gripping my waist and, slowly, guiding me down until I was on his lap. The new wetness between my legs made me shiver. His head dipped and he sucked my neck while his hand traveled lower. I gasped against him, my chest heaving. I fumbled for his zipper, feeling so inexperienced. It was all so new. The desire to want more with someone and knowing that I might be able to have it. Finally.
But then, with a pained sound, Collith turned his head away, effectively ending our frantic kiss. I reached for him instantly and he resisted turning back. “Good night,” he said.
Before I could argue, he lifted me off him and stood up. His expression was a combination of frustration and disappointment. In that moment, I realized why Collith kept refusing me—he thought I was doing this out of guilt or pity.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
I perched on the edge of the bed and stared up at him, letting everythi
ng pour from my eyes. I didn’t care if Collith saw how much of a hold he had on me, how much he consumed. The stark truth shone, an inner sun that burned any fear or embarrassment away. If he wanted it, Collith could have my heart, my very soul if I had one.
He didn’t move. Maybe he still didn’t believe me.
I took his hand and guided it under my waistband. When he reached my lower stomach, I let go and leaned back on my elbows. Our eyes met in a slow simmer. Then, slowly, Collith’s hand went lower. His fingertips brushed my wet clitoris and I gasped. Collith glanced at me sharply, his expression assessing. But it was pleasure, not fear, that pulled the sound from me. When he recognized that, Collith moved the ball of his thumb in slow circles.
He needed no convincing after that.
Pulling his hand away, he took off his shirt at the same time I reached for his pants.
I’d seen Collith’s penis before, but I was struck anew by the perfection of it. The shaft was long and thick, and I trailed my fingers along the soft skin. My faerie king made a sound as though I were tormenting him, and I tipped my head back to give him a wicked grin.
In response, he reached down and pulled a wallet out of his discarded jeans. I watched as Collith opened it and produced a condom. I wanted to make a joke about the fact he’d been carrying it around in his wallet, but nothing else about the moment felt funny. He ripped the wrapper open with his teeth. In a swift movement, Collith slid the condom onto his hard cock, and the muscles in his stomach shifted as he settled beside me.
I tensed, expecting him to tug down my pajama bottoms and enter me right away, but apparently Collith was in no hurry. His hand curved around my hip and he kissed me again, the movements of his tongue skilled and thorough.
Collith only began to undress me when I was so consumed by him that I’d forgotten to be nervous. Every time he removed an article of my clothing, he made sure to lick and explore every part of exposed skin. Within a minute, I was impatient and ready for him again. I reached down and stroked his length, hoping to wear down his resolve. “Don’t make me beg,” I whispered.
