The Four Horsemen_Hunted

by LJ Swallow

I bite away my smile. "You know what I mean. I don't want us to feel... couply. You said you didn't want that, when you spoke to us all."

  "I don't. Do you?"

  Do I? I've mulled this over in my mind and the answer's obvious. None of us could possess Vee because she owns us all, body, heart and soul. But the way I felt in those moments with her terrifies me. What if I can’t cope and jealousy edges in? What if I then screw up the relationship between us all?

  "It's not a realistic situation, Vee.”

  “That was a careful evasion of the truth, Ewan.”

  I slump back in my chair. “Everything’s confusing since you arrived. I haven’t changed how I feel from the first day we spoke. Emotions become involved, and I don’t think I have a handle on mine yet.”

  Vee cups my face in her hand. “Sorry about last night, then.”

  “Ha! As if I needed much persuasion.” I rest my forehead on hers. “But what I’m saying is it’s one reason I tried to hold back. I wanted you so fucking much, Vee, and if we get into the situation again and you want me to... I'm not holding back next time."

  "I think you've spent time thinking about this, haven't you?" she whispers.

  "You have no idea," I whisper in return.

  "I won't want you to hold back."

  I move away again and hold her chin, rubbing my thumb across her full mouth. “I’m just saying. I know you’re closer to Heath than anybody right now. I think he might be the best person to understand how you feel after all the crap today. He has a better handle on this human stuff.”

  Vee moves her face away with a wry smile. “‘Human stuff.’ Maybe he is, but that doesn’t stop me wanting and caring about you, Ewan.”

  I stand and hold out a hand. “You have a dinner party to get ready for.” Vee’s grimace amuses me. I tug Vee to her feet and place my lips against her ear. “Last night wasn’t just something physical.”

  “I know,” she murmurs. “I felt that too.”

  I curl my arm around Vee’s waist, almost entirely circling it, and move to meet her lips with mine. “I’m yours, Vee. Always.”

  3

  XANDER

  Bloody etiquette. I stand in the mirror and, for the fourth time, attempt to knot my blue silk tie. Portia expects her dinner guests formally dressed. Usually I halfway comply with a suit and formal shirt, but this time I relent and add in the tie. We need to start the evening as perfect guests in her eyes before discussions start and her advisors meet Vee, because things could rapidly head south.

  I spent half an hour searching for the bloody thing buried in the bottom of my drawers. I struggle with the knot again and give up trying to neaten it any further. I huff and grab the grey jacket from a hanger in the small wardrobe before shrugging it on. I run a hand across my hair to push my gelled fringe back into line and examine my face in the mirror. Clean-shaven too. Ugh.

  I step back and brush down the jacket, admiring myself. Hell, if I need to, I'll have Portia eating out of my hand by the end of the night.

  I hope.

  Breaking the news we're no closer to finding clues about the plot against her will not go down well. In my head, I've run through the speech I'll give Portia and attempted to pre-empt any questions or demands she might have. If I prepare myself, I can maintain my peacekeeping side. That way conflict can be kept to a minimum.

  I'm fired up after the discovery this morning. I can’t admit to the others, but I feel we’re being pulled into an undertow and out of our depth. For the first time in years, I’m worried I can’t control the situations multiplying around us. Unity's more important than ever, and Vee’s a huge part of that.

  Vee. I bite my fist, the way I should've bitten back the words earlier.

  I lost my shit with her again, and she was about to stand up to me. If her response continues to be challenge rather than back down, we could end up in disaster. I'm trying. Really bloody trying, but I'm not used to anybody showing my weakness. The weakness is the issue, not her challenge. I helped search for Verity because we needed her, because we were driven to find and protect Truth before she could be taken and destroyed somehow.

  What a douche I was earlier, caught in my anger and stress. Already worked up by her words inside the house, at her attempt to organise our lives, when the corpse greeted me, I vented at her. I swear Ewan was about to punch me, and I wouldn't blame him. I deserved it.

  I bite harder. Why can't I control this? After years, I should be aware when I'm about to switch between talk and action. I should recognise the signs I'm about to be gripped by fury.

  I take control of the world around me because I can't control myself.

  Everyday my heart and soul reach out to Vee, but my mind refuses to break through the darkness blocking their way. Duty. She’s part of my duty. Nothing more

  I shake away the thoughts. Shut the hell up, Xander, and stop whining at yourself. This is your job.

  I walk from my room, slamming the door behind. According to the time on my phone, we'll run late if we don't get our arses into gear and leave soon. Everyone had better be downstairs and ready; tardiness isn't an option.

  A familiar scent reaches me as I pass the partly open bathroom door. Vee's scent. I glance in and she's there, on tiptoes as she leans toward the mirror applying lipstick. The black, silk robe she wears stops short of her knees, the sleek material dropping along her slim frame. Staring at her ass, I notice she's no underwear beneath the silk.

  Hell. I ignore the arousal and squeeze my eyes closed, summoning images of the mangled corpse in an attempt to stop the sex images jumping into my mind. Sure, that works, but when I open them—still no underwear. Vee catches my eye in the mirror and holds my gaze for a moment, uncertainty in hers.

  "Sorry, I'm running late. I tried to do my make-up three times." She gestures at the cotton wool stained with pink and black, beside her at the sink.

  "I didn't think you liked make-up," I say. "You don't wear it."

  Vee turns and drops the lipstick next to the sink. "Only when I go out, and this is more than going out. I know Portia will look flawless, and I'll look—"

  "Like you?" I interrupt. "There's nothing wrong with a chick choosing not to wear make-up, especially when natural suits her."

  Vee gives a small shake of her head, and a strand of damp hair crosses her face. "I know, but like I said... fae queen."

  The silk robe is tied around her waist, falling forward slightly, and I'm drawn to the exposed skin above her breasts. How smooth would her skin be? She pulls the robe closer, and I give her an apologetic smile.

  I step into the bathroom doorway, but she doesn't move. "Sorry about earlier," I say. "About what I said outside."

  Vee picks up a tissue and rubs lipstick from her mouth. "That's okay. Joss explained."

  "Explained what?"

  Vee pauses, the way I've noticed she does when trying to come up with a neutral answer. "That you can't help behaving like War sometimes."

  "This is true. But I shouldn't attack you like that. I apologise."

  Vee's troubled look switches to confusion before she nods. "Apology accepted."

  Neither of us moves, and I'm drawn to her again, as if an invisible thread pulls me closer. My mouth only touched the corner of hers the other day, but the sensation stays with me. Her scent surrounding us, her body on show, does nothing to interrupt the memory spreading across my lips now.

  She's beautiful, and here she is painting her face and disguising the flawless skin and green eyes that match mine and the guys. The frustration bubbles inside, both sexual and with myself that I'm easily taken in by her. As she steps forward, the space constricts. Vee's looks down and takes hold of my tie with delicate fingers.

  "I think you need help fastening this properly." Vee deftly undoes the knot and a small crease appears on her brow as she concentrates on redoing the silk. In the past, this close, we were in conflict and the electric tension between us sparked at our shared irritation with each other. Right now, we're calm
and could be a couple readying ourselves for a night out.

  I’ve never wanted human normality in my life. Not once.

  Not until now.

  "There." She steps back and catches my distant look. "What's the matter?"

  I adjust my tie in the mirror and nod. "Yeah, looks better. Hate the bloody things."

  "You look different in a suit, but the same."

  "Huh?"

  "You still have that War aura. Confident. Important and...." Vee stops herself and rubs her lips with a finger, examining the pink that smears the tip. "I should finish getting ready. I doubt Portia likes tardiness."

  "Yeah." I don't move. She doesn't move. But this standoff's nothing like our previous ones. The ache to reach out, hold, kiss her gnaws at my resolve.

  "Sorry again," I repeat, all other words sound useless in my head.

  Vee reaches out and rubs the back of her hand down my clean-shaven face. "I don't hold your behaviour against you, Xander. But I'd like if you could be nicer to me."

  I grasp Vee's wrist and pull her hand away, maddened by the effect her touch has. "I'll try, but I'm ruled by my instinct and power, not my head."

  "Okay, then be yourself with me, and I'll just have to match you with the War I contain."

  Her words and the accompanying look dig further into the War she's talking about. "Containing it's the problem as I'm sure you'll discover."

  Because right now, he's coming through, recognising the side of myself inside Vee, the one filled with passion rather than aggression. The need to conquer. To control.

  To take off the flimsy gown she's wearing and pour that passion into her. Because I'm damn sure she can match me.

  Vee ducks her head and turns back to the sink. "I need to finish this."

  Hell, so do I.

  4

  VEE

  Walking along the path to Portia's, I struggle to match the ordinary suburban street with the memories of the violence I witnessed in the house. This time, I notice other things I didn't before. A stone plaque hung over the door featuring a carved sun, and an unusual plant in the garden border with a single white flower somehow blooming in the dusk. Other expensive cars are parked in the clean street and on Portia's driveway. Men sit in one or two of the cars parked on the road, her security obvious to me. What do the neighbours think?

  We travelled in Heath's SUV and Xander's Aston Martin. I declined the offer to travel with him again. I'm exhausted after today’s events, and can't cope with the mood swings. I saw the calmer, gentler Xander in the bathroom earlier, but his defences could be back up now.

  I hope his defences are back because I weaken against him when he’s friendly, as the frustration around him channels into desire.

  A man answers the door, dressed in a black suit and sour look. There's nothing fae about him; his bulky figure matches Ewan's height and build. No guesses what his role is tonight.

  "Good evening," he says in a gruff voice. "I don't need to ask who you are."

  The security guy ushers us inside where the welcome warmth contrasts with the November night. The place is immaculate again. I toy with the idea I should remove my shoes in case I mark the plush cream carpet. I bet Portia isn't responsible for the perfection and has others who attend to her home.

  Portia appears in a doorway opposite and stands between the open french doors. She claps her hands together and exclaims, "The Pony Boys are here."

  "That's really getting old now," mutters Heath.

  Portia fights a smile. "But it's endearing!"

  The queen's long dress drapes around her slender figure, the silk clinging to her hips. As she moves, the material shimmers through shades of blue, from bright cerulean to the palest sky. The dress’s front scoops forward revealing the top of Portia’s breasts, where diamonds wound around her neck rest and glitter like stars. Her white-blonde hair's loose and shines to match the gems adorning her body. On the pale skin, there’s no longer any sign of the injuries she suffered.

  "At least you dressed up." She wrinkles her nose at me. "Or tried."

  In my hastily packed clothes, I managed to find a more formal dress than I wore to the club. The dark green chiffon reaches just above my knees and has spaghetti straps above the fitted bodice. Anna took me shopping for the dress when we attended a friend's engagement party, telling me it matched my eyes and flattered my tall figure. Formal engagements weren't on my radar at the point I left my flat to move in with the boys, but as I emptied my entire wardrobe into a rucksack, I’ve something for all occasions.

  Such as parties with fairies. Fae.

  The dress is designed for summer, so I paired with a matching cardigan. I think. Black matches, right? Unfortunately, the baggy knitwear dresses down my attempt to dress up.

  Mental note: next time I'm summoned to a cross between a dinner party and official meeting with fae royalty, purchase a new dress. Which guy would accompany me on a shopping trip? I smile to myself. I bet they'd prefer to take on demons rather than a day in retail hell.

  The guys fared better with their dress. They all possess suits, ones they use when they need to pretend they're official. Ewan's uncomfortable in his, tie loose as he yanked it away from his neck on the drive over complaining he felt strangled. Joss accepts his formal fate, and I've seen Heath in suits at work. Of them all, Xander looks the best, perhaps because he's cleaner cut, hair styled more than the others. Or the fact Xander’s personality dominates any situation.

  "Do come in." Portia beckons with long, silver-painted nails.

  I don't look into the lounge room that hosted the horrors from my last visit, as she leads us passed and into a large formal room. Half a dozen people sit around a long table, one immaculately decorated with matching napery and plates.

  Oh god, the guys weren't joking about a dinner party.

  Now this is more the ostentatious room I expect than Portia’s craft studio in her basement. The table dominates the room; tall-backed chairs either side and one at either end, each one occupied. Colours to match Portia's outfit decorate the room, crystal wine glasses shine beneath the dripping chandelier. I groan inwardly when I spot the selection of cutlery beside each place setting. I barely know a soup spoon from a dessertspoon.

  "I think you should sit in the middle." Portia points at three tall-backed dining chair. "Which two boys would you like to spend time between, Verity?"

  "I don't mind," I reply. "Any of them."

  "Hmm." She taps her lips. "If it were me, I'd like to position myself between the brothers. I think you'd enjoy spending time between War and Death."

  The teasing smile thrown in my direction raises heat in my cheeks. I don't miss Xander's muttered annoyance beside me, or the fleeting images in my mind. Bad, Vee.

  We take our places, me between Heath and Xander as advised, opposite Ewan and Joss, and I steal glances at the other guests.

  A man sits opposite me. Fae? He has the slender figure, pale hair, and sharp features, but his bronze-hued eyes don't match Portia's. He regards me in return, with no reaction, then turns to the woman on his right, opposite Heath, to whisper something.

  The blonde woman raises her glass to drink as she looks back, barely disguising her scrutiny. I look away from her violet eyes and straighten the fork beside my white china plate.

  Beside them sits a younger man, closer to my age although I'd guess younger. His hair's darker, almost black, and curled around his ears, eyes bright blue like the napery on the table and Portia's dress. His nervous smile relaxes me; at least I'm not the only odd one out.

  I presume the middle-aged woman at the end of the table opposite Portia is his mother, or related in some way as their hair colour and eyes match and she’s older. I’m unable to see the man beside Heath, as he's obscured by Heath's broad frame.

  The two women's dresses match the exquisite expensiveness of Portia's, and I hastily remove my cardigan and drape it over the back of the chair. The woman opposite Heath giggles.

  "I didn't realise this was
going to be a full-on pretence at human civility," says Ewan.

  "I'm practicing." Portia sits at the head of the table and takes a napkin, flicks it out, and places the cloth on her knee. "Paul's business associates and wives are visiting next week."

  "Where is Paul?" asks Heath. "Shouldn't he be with you?"

  "Paul? This isn't a place for my human husband. This is fae business."

  "Do these posh friends of yours know you have two husbands?" asks Xander, and gestures at the last person at the table, sitting to her right. The man holds himself upright, head tipped as he studies Xander, with the same regal air as Portia. There's no mistaking he's not human; nobody could have eyes that shine gold the way his do. His hair's long and straight, dark with a blue hue, touching his shoulders. Of every fae I've met, he has the most ethereal look. I could imagine him in a faraway place like the magical ones in books I read as a child.

  But I was never a child, there's no such magical place, and this weirdness is my reality.

  Portia inclines her head. "Reuben is rarely here. He's around when needed on an... official basis." She gestures at him and looks at me. "I have a fae husband who rules over the London court for me, but I’ve also a human husband to live in town and help teach our daughters how to fit into human society. Of course I love them both." She places a hand over Reuben’s, and he rests his long, pale fingers over hers, then kisses her cheek. "I love all of my men."

  "Right," I say and wish I'd kept my mouth shut. So, whose daughters are Elyssia and Kailey? Paul? Reuben? Someone else?

  "Humans have such silly ideas about relationships," continues Portia. "A girl doesn't need to choose, does she Verity?"

  A loud sign emanates from Xander. "One, I'm hungry, and two, let's get the meeting over with. We're not here to socialise, but to assure you we're doing what we can to deal with the situation in hand."

  "’Situation in hand’." Portia gives him a tight smile and twists her wine glass in her fingers. "You mean the attempt on my life?"