Unchained by a Forbidden Love

by Felicity Heaton

  “So where would she go?” Hartt squeezed his shoulders and his voice dropped lower, laced with the same desperation that flowed in his own blood. “Think, Fuery… where?”

  The buzzing in his skull was too loud, drowning out his thoughts as he ran over everything that had happened, tried to piece together how she would have felt and where that would have taken her.

  When he found no answer, he lifted his head and stared into Hartt’s eyes, desperately searching for one in them.

  Hartt’s dark eyebrows dipped and he dropped his gaze to Fuery’s chest, looking straight through it, a thousand thoughts flittering across his eyes as his lips pulled into a grim line.

  “I told her what I told you,” his friend whispered. “I mentioned you were shocked by it… and that I felt you teleport, and how rare that is for you.”

  Because his powers were messed up, but his last teleport had felt more stable. He had felt in control, at least to a degree. He had been desperate, the key behind his ability to teleport working, but it had felt easier to call that power this time and open his portal.

  Because of Shaia?

  Because of the light that was growing inside him each second they were together?

  He cursed as he considered where she might have gone.

  “The elf kingdom.” He didn’t want to think about her there, back within her family’s grasp.

  They would try to take her from him again.

  He was damned if he was going to let it happen this time. Shaia wanted to be his, wanted to break free of the ties that bound her, the shackles of tradition, and she had been doing just that. He had felt how happy she had been to be away from the elf kingdom, to see a new place, and to be with him in it.

  She had been free.

  Unchained at last and able to seek the adventure she had always craved, without scorn or condemnation.

  He pushed onto his feet and snarled as rage poured through him, determination that had his darkness growing stronger to swirl in his veins and blaze in his heart.

  He would set her free again.

  He would give her the life she wanted, would guide her in this new world and stand at her side through it all.

  Power flowed through him, and the inky cold black swallowed him, rushing over the obsidian scales of his armour as it covered him from neck to toe. When the darkness dissipated, the gentle rustling of leaves reached his ears together with the steady babbling of the river. The scent of cool earth and water filled his senses and he breathed deep of it.

  Stilled.

  Shaia.

  He caught her sweet scent and growled as he smelled others too.

  Males.

  He flicked his eyes open.

  They settled straight on the tree where he had carved their initials after they had mated, and had vowed to always love her, to always be there for her.

  To always protect her.

  His eyes rapidly adjusted to the darkness and the world around him brightened to reveal the trunk of the tree and those initials, and the river that swept around the bend beyond it. His gaze dropped from their initials to the dirt at the roots of the tree and narrowed. It was scuffed. Disturbed.

  His eyes drifted over the scene and then leaped back to a single point.

  Something was there in the dirt beside one of the roots.

  He stormed towards it, crouched when he reached the tree and snarled through his fangs as they emerged.

  A dart.

  The fury that had already been boiling in his veins was nothing compared with the red rage that descended on him, sweeping through him to burn every other emotion away. He snatched the fallen dart from the ground, seizing a fistful of earth with it, and growled as he shot to his feet. He uncurled his fist and stared at the dart, breathing hard as he wrestled with the black need to run, to tear apart this fucking kingdom to find his mate.

  He closed his eyes and sucked down breath after breath in an attempt to steady himself. Rushing would get him nowhere. He needed to uncover as much information about what had happened as he could and remain rational if he was going to find Shaia.

  Or as rational as he could be with his blood thundering, burning hot in his veins, and a fierce desperate need to find his beautiful mate driving him wild.

  The darkness surged again, comforting him with the feel of its power flowing through him, strength that he was going to unleash on the bastards who had stolen his love from him.

  He calmly brushed the dirt from around the dart, plucked it from his palm and lifted it to his nose, his entire body trembling with the force of his anger as he waged war against it.

  Information. He needed information. A direction.

  Something to go on.

  He closed his eyes and sniffed the point of the dart.

  It smelled sweet. Sickly sweet.

  He took another breath and focused to calm his mind so he could determine which drug had laced the dart. He was familiar with many that could be used on such a weapon, although he had never stooped to using such a tool in his work.

  He opened his eyes as it hit him, and relief poured through him, washing some of his anger away and restoring a sliver of hope.

  It was a drug meant to render someone unconscious.

  Shaia was alive.

  The reason he couldn’t feel her through their bond was because she was still out cold.

  He couldn’t bide his time and wait for her to come around though. He couldn’t stand still and do nothing. He needed to act, would go mad if he didn’t.

  He scanned the ground around him and the tree, and growled as he saw footprints and two long grooves.

  As if someone had been dragged across the earth.

  Where had they taken Shaia?

  His eyes followed the tracks from the tree and past him. He turned on his heel, vision growing sharper as he picked out the footprints in the low light. They led to a darker patch of earth. Someone had lit a fire there. His focus leaped to the logs scattered around the clearing as he walked towards the ring of scorched dirt. Whoever they were, they had tried to cover their tracks.

  Tried and failed.

  He crouched as he picked out a clear footprint and fingered it. Boots. Not army issue. He found another print nearby. Different to the one near him. This male had worn a boot with a heel. He spotted another clear set of prints and moved to it. The style of boot matched the first print. He measured them with his hand, huffed, and then scoured the camp to see if there were any more.

  Three males had been here.

  Shaia wouldn’t have stood a chance against them.

  His face twisted in a dark snarl as he thought about his beautiful female fighting for her life and he consoled himself by looking back at the tree, at the place she had reached before the males had darted her. She hadn’t fought. Her footprints were few, starting at a point between the fire and the tree, and heading towards the trunk of it where she had passed out.

  Had the males been waiting here to ambush her?

  He scanned the camp again, the relief he had felt dissipating as he thought about where they might have taken her.

  What they might do to her.

  Fury rose again, a black and terrible rage that poured through his veins like acid and ink, pushing him to find her now before anything could happen to her.

  His heart hitched as his eyes fell on the long grooves in the dirt.

  His fingers curled into tight fists at his sides.

  He would find her. He would protect her.

  He would kill whoever had taken her.

  The scuff marks led past the camp, into the thick woods that swathed the hill on this side of the river.

  Heading towards the village.

  The fury that had been building inside him rose to a violent boil as a possible location hit him.

  It would be just like her family to do such a thing, hiring mercenaries to take his mate from him, attempting to push him out of her life again or convince her to do as they bid and wed a male of high standing.<

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  They had never liked him.

  It went both ways.

  He hated them.

  They were going to pay for what they had done. Shaia was his, and he wouldn’t leave without her. She wanted to be with him, and she would be. He would set her free and they would be together.

  Forever.

  He focused on his body, on his portal, and growled when it flickered over him and then faded. His breath sawed from his lips as he shook, his head spinning from the exertion of attempting to teleport again. Too much. He wasn’t used to using the ability anymore, and he had already teleported twice in the past hour, and a third time before that to reach Vail’s home.

  It wasn’t going to stop him though.

  He might not have the strength to teleport, but he still had enough left to reach Shaia.

  He kicked off, throwing up dust as he sprinted from the clearing and into the woods. Branches whipped his armour and lashed at his face as he crashed through the trees, heading up the hill. Startled animals broke cover in all directions, fleeing deeper into the woods as he sped past them.

  The trees thinned ahead.

  He didn’t slow as he crashed through them and out into the meadow. He pushed himself harder, sprinting faster, driving himself past his limit as his muscles burned. He couldn’t slow. Not until Shaia was back in his arms.

  He raced across the dark lands, down into the valley where a pale streak snaking between the hills marked the road into the village.

  The burning in his muscles grew fiercer, but he kept pushing, kept running, refusing to give in even as fatigue swept through him and had his head turning. Sweat trickled down his spine beneath his skin-tight armour and crawled over his scalp. He shoved his hand over his long hair, slicking it back from his face as a cool breeze swept down the side of the hill and over him.

  His boots skidded as he hit the road and he kicked right. His right hand touched the pale dirt and then he was running again, long strides devouring the distance between him and the village. His heart lightened as he spotted the windmills towering on the hills above the village, and then golden lights that marked the houses.

  “I’m coming, Shaia,” he breathed and pushed harder, his body screaming in protest but his heart driving him to go faster still.

  Shaia needed him.

  He reached the village and caught the curious looks on a few of the faces of those out on the streets as he blazed a trail through it, following the road to the square and then taking the left fork as it split into two.

  He was close now.

  He hit the final hill, his legs burning, thousands of flaming needles piercing his muscles and bones with each stride. When he reached the top of it, and the elegant large stone two-storey grey stone house came into view, golden light illuminating several of the ground floor windows, relief mingled with hope eased the ache in his heart but stoked his rage so it burned white-hot.

  Her family would pay for taking her from him.

  Fuery bolted down the hill, making fast work of the distance between him and the house, and didn’t stop when he reached the door. He dipped his right shoulder and barged through it, splintering the wood and tearing a startled shriek from a female on the other side.

  The servant dropped her tray. It clattered on the polished stone floor, the sound loud in the double-height vestibule, clashing with that of crystal smashing as the goblets that had been poised on it hit the ground and shattered.

  “Elys!” A high female voice snapped.

  Fuery’s head whipped towards the source of it and he called his black katana to his right hand.

  The owner of that voice stormed out of the room to his left, her black-blue hair neatly swept up and held in thick twisted curls and her deep violet dress cinched at her waist with a corset of fine filigreed gold.

  The maid bowed her head, quickly stooped and began gathering the broken crystal.

  The older female’s gaze slowly shifted towards Fuery.

  Widened.

  “Aylen.” Her voice trembled as she took him in, enormous violet eyes dropping to the blade he clutched.

  The male she had summoned appeared behind her, his dark green tunic with fine gold embroidery on the two long panels in front of his thighs a rich contrast to her dress. His violet eyes went equally as wide on seeing Fuery and he paled a little.

  “What have you done with her?” Fuery snarled and advanced on them.

  The maid stopped her work and stared at him, and then her mistress as the older female signalled to her with her left hand. He paid no attention to the servant as she quickly left the room, keeping his focus fixed on the couple in front of him.

  Shaia’s parents.

  His fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword and fire burned in his heart, blazed in his soul as their cruel words echoed in his mind, every vicious thing they had ever said about him battering him as he stared at them and fought the urge to cut them down.

  The darkness pushed him to do it. Life would be easier without them. Shaia would be his. No one would try to take her from him ever again.

  Gods, he wanted that.

  He wanted to cut them down and watch them bleed. He wanted to be the last thing they saw. He wanted to make them pay for hurting him, denying him.

  He would move Heaven, Earth and Hell to save Shaia. Would do anything, no matter the cost. He would kill, sacrifice others, or himself. Whatever was necessary, so long as Shaia lived and was free again.

  “Monster,” her mother spat.

  Fuery growled at her and tried to deny the pain that stabbed through his chest on hearing that word, on seeing the contempt in her eyes, and the disgust.

  He was well aware of his appearance.

  Darkness reigned in his eyes, and he was sure his pupils were on the verge of turning elliptical, and his irises in danger of gaining a crimson glow.

  But he didn’t care.

  All that mattered was Shaia, and if he had to condemn himself to the abyss in order to save her, then he would do it.

  “Where is she?” he bit out, and advanced another step.

  Aylen’s hand came down on the female’s shoulder. “What is it to you?”

  He growled as pain suddenly filled him, colliding with fear that stole his breath and had his knees weakening beneath him.

  “Shaia,” he breathed and clutched at his chest with his left hand, digging sharp claws in as he struggled to breathe and tamp down the raw agony flowing through him. He snarled and lifted his black eyes to Aylen. “Tell me what you’ve done with her. I know it was you… you set a band of mercenaries on your own damned daughter!”

  Gods, the pain.

  He swallowed against it and gritted his teeth. It felt as if someone was pulling him apart, piece by agonising piece. He needed to find her. He needed to take away her pain and her fear, before it destroyed him.

  Before it destroyed her.

  “I will fucking end you both if you do not give her back!” he roared, and the couple flinched in unison, her mother backing into her father.

  Her eyes filled with tears. “What do you mean… mercenaries?”

  He refused to believe the worry that shone in her violet gaze as she turned her cheek to him and gazed up at her male. He refused to believe the fear that reflected in Aylen’s eyes as he wrapped one arm around her and tucked her closer to him.

  “Do not listen to him, Sarea. I am sure Shaia is fine, at home where she belongs.” The male rubbed his hand against her shoulder, and Fuery didn’t miss the way she tensed and glanced at him.

  She was hiding something.

  He focused on her, a monumental feat considering his mood was rapidly degenerating and the darkness rising, consuming more of him by the second and filling his mind with beautiful images of bloodying his blade and painting the walls of this house crimson.

  It took all of his effort, but he managed to lock his senses on her and he growled as he felt something from her.

  Fear.

  Not fear for her daughter, nor fear of what he might do to her.

  Fear born of nerves that told him that he was right and she was hiding something and she feared him finding out what it was.

  “Our servant will be at the castle by now, and they will bring a legion back with them.” Aylen’s words had no effect on Fuery.

  “Fuck the soldiers,” he snarled and delighted in the horror that crossed their faces. “The kingdom could send one hundred legions and I still wouldn’t leave… not until you tell me what you did with Shaia. You know where she is.”

  He readied his blade and advanced another step, the thought of battling soldiers sending him sinking deeper into the darkness and conjuring a need to feel pain and deal blows, to tear flesh and shatter bone. Gods, he needed it. He needed to fight. He needed to taste blood on his tongue. Needed to kill.

  He froze when he sensed the air shimmer behind him.

  Braced himself for the coming battle.

  Turned as his foes appeared, prepared to kill them all.

  His eyes landed on two males.

  One with dishevelled finger-length blue-black hair that brushed the collar of his obsidian armour, and one with neatly-trimmed short hair that was swept back from his face and matched the colour of his fine tailored tunic that had elegant scrollwork edging the two sides where they joined in the centre of his torso and flowed down to his knees.

  Fuery’s eyes instantly dropped to his own boots.

  Prince Loren.

  “What is happening?” The prince took a hard step forwards, radiating anger that had Fuery fighting to find his voice so he could answer him.

  Loren’s eyes shifted away from him as Aylen spoke.

  “This creature intends to attack us.”

  Loren was silent and the air in the room grew heavy around Fuery as he battled with himself, memories of a time long past tormenting him, a collision of the handful of moments he had been in Prince Loren’s presence that took him from the day he had enlisted in the army to a night recently when he had gone with Hartt to rescue Harbin, one of their assassins, from the cells of Archangel, a mortal hunter organisation.

  He had crossed paths with Prince Loren twice that night, and had discovered that Prince Vail was alive.

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