The Dark Huntsman: A Fantasy Romance of The Black Court (Tales of The Black Court Book 1)

by Jessica Aspen

  “Whist, my dearling.” Logan held on, whispering in her ear as the remnants of the spell lashed through her.

  Trina’s flailing limbs subsided and she shuddered in his arms. “I’m feeling better,” she said. “But I’m so tired.” She stretched and yawned and he eased his grip, pulling back and searching her eyes for signs she was still impaired.

  “Your eyes do look clearer.” He sighed and cursed his stupidity. He’d assumed the natural defenses of the forest would hide them, but someone had watched and waited for him to leave her alone and unprotected. How was it that the hounds or Solanum hadn’t sensed someone watching earlier today? Why hadn’t he left them with her for protection?

  “I think I just need to sleep,” she said, her eyelids fluttered heavily.

  “You rest. I need to check the perimeter, make sure we’re safe for the night,” he said, and eased away from her. She murmured a sleepy protest and he stroked her forehead.

  She half opened her eyes and lifted her head. “Logan?”

  “Go to sleep, we hunt in the morning.” He stood and she relaxed back into the bed.

  Looking down at her his thoughts ran wild. How had this happened? How had the queen found them? His mind spun with the possibilities while fear coursed like red and yellow lava through his bloodstream. If the queen knew Trina was alive, then not only her life was in danger, but his existence as well. And he was the only thing standing between Trina and death.

  He grabbed his leather coat. “I’ll return soon,” he whispered, but she was already falling asleep. He tucked her in and gave her a quick chaste kiss on the forehead before heading for the door.

  How had he come to this? The thought of losing her had the blood pounding in his temples, wreaking havoc with his thoughts. He opened the door and looked back at her curled on her side like a child, her breathing already soft and sweet with sleep.

  He couldn’t bring her with him, but he was damned if he would leave her here by herself to face whatever might come next to their clearing. And he couldn’t leave her with his seven randy uncles back at the cottage. They’d already made rude comments to him about his woman during his quick supply runs. Why the horny bastards isolated themselves here without female companionship, he’d never understand. He needed to find somewhere safe to put her, and he was running out of ideas.

  He closed the door behind him. Solanum immediately materialized from the shadows at the side of the house, no box to be seen in his hands. Together, they walked the interior of the clearing, then out into the dark of the forest.

  “I have yet to find signs anyone has been here,” Solanum said.

  Logan extended his tracking Gift and examined the surrounding area. Someone had taken great effort to hide from him in particular, using the same tricks a hunter would use to confuse his prey. There were no residual signs from the person who had been there that afternoon. She had covered her tracks well.

  He headed back into the cottage. He’d be awake all night now that he knew someone watched and waited for him to be off his guard. Trina was sound asleep in his bed. Safe and where she was supposed to be. He climbed in and pulled her close, and let the warm honey of satisfaction fill him and ease his tension.

  Tonight, he would content himself with holding his witch. Tomorrow they would hunt, for now they remained the hunted.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Soft kisses trailed down Trina’s cheek and across her neck. She pried sticky eyes open and peered at Logan. He looked great and smelled even better—woodsy, clean, sexy. She, on the other hand, felt terrible—mouth dry, stomach unhappy, and everything hurt.

  “Wake up, lazy, I have work for you to do!”

  “Go away,” she said and rolled over to hide under the covers from his too chipper attitude. “What did we do last night? I have the worst hangover.”

  He tugged on the blanket, letting in the bright sunlight. “How do you feel?”

  “My head aches, my eyes ache, everything aches.” She struggled to pull the blanket up, but he seemed intent on depriving her of its shelter. “And I feel nauseous.”

  “Not too bad, all things considered.” He stripped the blanket away, leaving her naked and defenseless, blinking against the light and her tormentor. “You have packing to do. We’re leaving within the hour. If you want a bath, now’s the time.” He leaned over and sniffed her hair. “And I’m thinking you want to get started soon.”

  “Are you saying I stink?” She half-heartedly swung a pillow at him, but he ducked and grinned.

  “Up, or you won’t have enough time to pack.”

  “Pack? Where are we going?” She struggled to remember why she should feel so bad. “And what would I pack? My whole two dresses? Whoopee! I’ll get right on it.” She flipped him off with her free hand as she rolled up to sitting.

  “If you’re nice, you might have a little more than two dresses to pack. Where do you think I was yesterday?” Logan dangled a small, purple velvet bag that grew even as she reached for it. “Most of your new clothes are already in here, but you should add anything you don’t want to leave behind.”

  Trina opened the bag and pulled out bright, silky dress after dress. Her mouth gaped open, and she struggled to think of something to say.

  Logan grinned. “You might try ‘thanks’. There are quite a few gowns in there. And some shoes. And those terrible denim things women wear now.” She pulled out bras, underwear, and shoes. Slippers, and heels, and sneakers. She laughed and hugged a pair of laced up short boots to her chest.

  Logan snorted a laugh.

  “What?” she asked. His grin looked genuine, but she was sure something was up.

  “It’s nice to see you looking better…sparkling eyes, red cheeks.” He pinched her cheek and brushed her lips in a kiss. “You look like a little girl at a party.”

  “It feels like a birthday.” She discovered the coveted pair of jeans and whooped. “Who knew you would bring all this after doling things out like Scrooge.” She stopped and dropped the jeans into the pile of gifts. “Wait a minute. What happened last night?”

  “You don’t remember the old woman, the combs, or almost dying?”

  “No… Yes… I don’t know.” She struggled, her head aching as snippets of memory flashed through her brain. “I think I remember.”

  “I was hoping you’d remember more this morning.” His smile faded and she saw, underneath his bright, shiny attitude, he looked tired. “Is there anything you can tell me about yesterday?” Logan pushed the clothes out of the way, sat beside her, and drew her hair back from her face.

  She searched his eyes for something to jar her memory, but all she saw was concern. “Maybe. It makes my head hurt.” Some lovely gold jewelry, flashes of bright colors, and an evil laugh all blurred into a bad nightmare.

  “Try, sweetling. Someone gave you a gift, do you remember?”

  She tried again, a stabbing pain ricocheting through her head and blocking the memories. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “You said last night it was an old woman, but no one knows that you’re here, that you’re even alive, no one except myself and my uncles.” A dark foreboding look crossed his face. “And Mariella Boyd.”

  “I didn’t tell her where I was. How could she have found me? I don’t even know where we are.”

  “No, but she knows you’re alive, and that may be enough.”

  “It couldn’t have been Mariella. How could she have hidden her aura? She isn’t fae.”

  “She hid her aura?” He looked intently into her eyes. “You remember something?”

  An old woman. Suspicion. Something not right. And the fear of discovering the woman had no aura. “I remember she was old, and when I used my Gift to look closer… her aura wasn’t there.” Panic fisted in her chest. “She wasn’t there, Logan! What does that mean?”

  “It means she must be strong if she did that. How much fae blood does Mariella have in her clan? What are her talents? She must have some strong ones to be head of a clan. O
r perhaps some fae put a glamour on her, to hide her identity.”

  “Why would Mariella do this?”

  “I don’t know but you aren’t safe here anymore. If she tells the queen you’re alive….” He gripped her hard and she squeaked a protest. One by one he relaxed his fingers and let her go, she rubbed her arms. He shook his head. “I can’t leave you here alone anymore, and if the queen’s involved it’s too dangerous to take you with me.”

  She didn’t remember much, but she knew she needed to go with him. This was her chance to finally do something. “You’re not thinking straight, Logan. I would be safer with you.”

  “I can’t focus on the hunt with you. You’re too distracting. I missed that we were followed from the meet, I missed the wild boars, I missed that someone knows we’re here. This was supposed to be a safe haven and instead, you were here, penned up for the taking. How can I take you Underhill, into the lands of Faerie and keep you safe?”

  “How can you leave me here?”

  “If the person who tracked you here knows that I am here with you, then hunting with me isn’t safe.” Logan stroked her hair.

  She sighed.

  He tucked a strand behind her ear. “Look at me, Trina. For both our safeties, we must find Aoife.”

  “I agree, but I’m coming with you,” she said, lifting her chin. She wasn’t going to be left behind anymore. “I’m feeling better.” She played her trump card. “And I’ll be safer with you, than without you.”

  Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line but she held her ground staring into his eyes. Eyes that still captured her, but no longer hypnotized her with their magic. Eyes of someone she thought she could dare to trust.

  “Stubborn, that’s what you are.” He shook his head, his lips softening into a smile. “All right, lass. You can come with me, but there will be rules.” He waggled a finger in her face. “And you must go in disguise, this time a better one. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” She snuggled into his side and he held her close. She closed her eyes and wished she could stay here and pretend everything was fine, but that wasn’t her life. It never had been. She was a fighter and she would fight to keep her family safe, even if it meant taking on the queen herself. Or Logan.

  He stood up. “Hop in the bath and I’ll get breakfast while you try to remember the rest of what happened yesterday.”

  She crossed the room. “I remember being pissed at you.” She eased into the bath and leaned her head back, her aching muscles relaxing in the steamy lavender-scented water. “You left me here.”

  “Well, that’s not what’s happening today.” He pulled out a frying pan. “Scrambled or fried?” She sensed tension under his attempt at breezy, casual conversation.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Take your bath, have some breakfast, and see if you remember,” he called from the stove. “If you don’t, I’ll fill you in on the way.”

  “Why are we packing?” She poured lemon verbena shampoo into her palm, the strong scent waking her up as she soaped her hair.

  “I can’t leave you here.” Logan broke eggs into the skillet. “And we won’t be coming back. I’ll be finding another place to tuck you away. Somewhere safer.”

  “But you are taking me with you to hunt for Aoife today. For sure?” She stared at him, lather dripping down the side of her face. “No tricks, no sneaking off and abandoning me somewhere else?”

  “Not today. Not unless you don’t get cracking and finish up.”

  “Why?” She needed to know. Was it simply that she was in danger and he saw her as his property? Or did he see that she needed to go, needed to hunt Aoife for herself and find out why her family was in such danger.

  “Your eggs are almost ready.”

  “Why, Logan? Why are you taking me with you, is it because you see that I need to go?”

  He stopped cooking, his shoulders sagged, and his voice dropped so low she strained to hear him speak. “Danu spare me, but I’ve come to need you alive.” He placed the skillet on the table, crossed the room, and ran a light finger down the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know what to do with you, but I’ll be damned if I’ll leave you here and come back to find you gone, dead, or worse.”

  Trina’s heart thumped painfully in her chest as she stared into his eyes. The energy of their auras swirled, brushing against each other, and merging their foggy edges. Deep under the water, she softened between her thighs.

  Logan’s eyes darkened into a deeper turquoise and he backed away. “Best put some clothes on or you’ll need to be thanking me a different way this morning, and we have little time for that.” He went to the door, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be outside. Eat your eggs.”

  Trina sank back into the water, untouched arousal simmering under her skin.

  She didn’t understand him. One moment he treated her like a pet, bringing her gifts and expecting her to jump at his word. He’d take her with him, but expect her to hide in disguise and she knew that the second he’d found a place he’d abandon her again and expect her to hide from the queen.

  She rinsed her hair. She needed a partner. Someone who would let her fight for her family and her life. Someone who understood she was done with hiding. Done with running. Done with being a victim. How had she made this catastrophic mistake? How could she have fallen for a domineering, possessive fae who only wanted to tuck her away from the world? Someone who would never be able to see her as a person and couldn’t ever return her love.

  Somewhere, the Fates laughed up a storm.

  She got out of the tub and dressed in the perfectly fitting jeans and a t-shirt. She ate fast. If he was going to take her with him, for whatever reason, she would be ready.

  Fed, packed, and with the kitchen clean, she was ready to leave. At the door, she turned. She hadn’t been here long, but it had started to feel like it could have been her place. For the first time in a long time, leaving a house didn’t seem like she was leaving part of herself behind, it seemed like maybe, she’d be back.

  “Thank you,” she said to the empty cottage.

  Outside, Logan waited with Solanum and the hounds. “Time for your disguise.” The tingle of Logan’s glamour spread along her cheeks, down the skin of her neck, and all the way to her toes. “I don’t want anyone even thinking it might be you.”

  Solanum stomped a hoof. “I don’t want people thinking that’s riding on me,” he said, his equine lip curling. “What are you thinking? Couldn’t you at least have kept her sexy?”

  “I’m thinking she’s going Underhill with us and no one needs to know she’s human, or attractive.”

  “What did you do?” She stretched out gnarled grey hands, her fingers ending in narrow twigs.

  “You’re small enough that you can look like a dryath. Their skin resembles tree bark.”

  “I thought dryaths couldn’t leave their trees?”

  “That’s a dryad, and they can’t. This is a dryath, not as fun and sexy, but more threatening. Dryaths are small. They don’t come much over five feet, and they have extremely nasty tempers.” He stepped back, eyeing her critically.

  She touched her face, the scaly skin rough under her fingers.

  “Time to go.” He helped her up on the puca and mounted in front of her. Trina looked back at the cottage as they rode out of the hedge. She’d arrived here scared and angry, now she left in love with someone so flawed her heart was torn.

  “Are you ready for the portal?” The purple haze formed ahead. She swallowed and wished she’d skipped breakfast.

  “This will be an easier trip,” Logan said.

  “How so?”

  “We’ll go slower, for one. Your body will have a chance to adjust. And we won’t go through more than one at a time. Last time, I took you through many more gates than you were aware of.”

  “And I’m dressed,” she said.

  He laughed, smiling at her over his shoulder. “Ready?”

  The dark purple maw loomed, and Trina’s stoma
ch flipped.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She swallowed, closed her eyes, and wrapped her arms around Logan, pressing her chest against his back as they rode into the mist. Focusing on his now familiar scent of wood smoke, she hummed to herself in an attempt to block out the wails and screams in the portal. Her stomach rose up, her head swam, and they cantered out of the portal.

  Solanum halted.

  Trina opened her eyes and attempted to focus her blurred vision on a broad sea of grass so tall she couldn’t see the dogs, just the swoosh of the stalks where they passed.

  “How are we going to look for her?” She scanned the miles of pale, green grass. “I don’t see anything here.”

  “What you can’t see is all the fae that make up this area. This is Underhill. Its physical makeup is unstable unless a conscious being holds it in place. For this area to be this solid there are many beings who believe it exists. More importantly, I can focus my Gift here more easily than in the forest. Here, the winds of magic blow and my Gift will find her scent.”

  Beneath her arms Logan’s chest expanded as he inhaled, his muscles firming up under her hands. She held herself very still. He opened his Gift and she could sense the magic stirring within him. Moments passed, then minutes. A strange, haunting whistle of birdsong rose over the wind.

  “Aahh,” he said. “I have something. We need to go through a gate.” He turned Solanum, and there, where there had been nothing at all but grass, was a small circle of standing stones.

  “Where did that come from?” she asked.

  “It was there, didn’t you see it?”

  She shook her head.

  “Gates are like that sometimes,” he said.

  They entered the circle between two weathered, grey rock pillars. Each opening between the seven granite sentinels contained a different view, each one unique and only the section they’d come through was filled with grass. One had a vibrant, blue sky and three low moons. Another, a dry, desolate plain. Logan chose a misty green world whose foggy tendrils crept through the gap, teasing the blades of waving grass next to the stones. Trina held tight to Logan’s waist as they rode through the gate.