by Michele Hauf
They stopped before the archway that opened into Malrick’s domain. Kir gripped Bea’s hand tightly. “Ready for this?”
“No. But I trust you. And I won’t leave Faery without Sirque. I owe you both that much.”
They crossed the black-and-pink quartz foyer and Kir stopped in the middle, looking up and about. It would be an affront to move beyond the foyer if they had not been received. Yet Bea could hear something... Or rather, she felt it. A deep and lingering sadness.
She’d always been able to sense her siblings’ emotions because they had a common bond of a same parent. They were in one another’s ichor. So who was sad now?
Her skin prickled and she rubbed her arms. Kir gave her a wondering look.
“Something isn’t right,” she said. “We need to look around.”
“You know the place. I’ll follow you.” He held his sword up. “Will I need this?”
“Probably.” She tugged the crystal blade from her waistband. “It’s coming from this direction.”
She shuddered, because she knew the spiraling staircase to her right led into the bowels of Malrick’s castle. Down there was a place no sidhe wanted to purposely enter or be taken voluntarily.
“Hurry. Executions are usually held at sunset, but Malrick never did take a deadline seriously. We might already be too late.”
Rushing down the stone stairs, Bea felt Kir’s hot breath at her back as he followed closely. He wasn’t about to let her get too far from him. Blessings for that.
The steps coiled endlessly and formed into the long earthen tunnel that she had followed out from her imprisonment. Eventually the walls gave way and the tunnel opened into the dungeon.
Avoiding one particularly bold spider dashing across the next step, Bea cried out. Kir caught her arm. His strong, steady hold reassured. And then she heard the inhuman cry echo up from below. It entered her pores and tugged at her muscles, pinching them painfully.
“Hurry,” she said, and rushed forward, taking the stairs two at a time. “He’s torturing her.”
The demoness’s wrists, hips and horns were nailed to the stone wall. Thick black blood oozed from the nails, which flashed silver. Bea gasped at the sight. The first vision of her mother, and under such cruel circumstances.
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t force out a yell for her father to cease his torture. She tasted bile in her throat and could but cling to her husband’s arm. Kir pulled from her grasp, pushed his way past Malrick, who stumbled in the werewolf’s wake, and shoved away the elf who wielded the razor-lined lash against Sirque. When the elf threatened Kir with the lash, the wolf growled, showing him his fangs.
The elf looked to Malrick, who stirred up brilliant blue faery flame in his hands.
Oblivious to the pending danger, Kir pulled the nails from Sirque’s horns. The demoness’s head dropped onto one of his shoulders. Next he slammed his body against hers to hold her while he pulled free the nails from her hips.
Faery fire hit Kir on the back. He growled and threw a silver nail toward Malrick, who countered the attack with a subtle gesture of his hand. The wolf fought at the flames that crept over his bare shoulders while he fought to hold up Sirque, for to let her go now would see her supported only by the nails in her wrists. The flames licked up his leather vest and then...disappeared. Bea’s faery dust had worked its magic.
Bea watched her father build another ball of blue flame in his hands. As he drew back his arm to lob the flame, she caught his arm. The flame dropped to the dungeon floor. Malrick thrust her away from him, then he paused, seeming to realize who he had pushed away.
Sirque cried out as the final nail was pulled from her wrist. Kir hefted her over his shoulder and turned to stand defiantly before the Unseelie king.
“You are quite the werewolf, Kirnan Sauveterre,” Malrick said. “You defy my flame to rescue a miserable demon?”
“She is family. And you broke yet another promise.” Kir spit on the floor between him and Malrick.
Bea wanted to shout with glee to see her husband stand up to the mighty Faery king, yet she would not be so bold without expecting major retaliation.
Malrick sighed and spread out his arms in resignation. “You have earned my respect, wolf.”
“Then you will grant me one favor, my lord?”
“I know what you request. You want the demoness. Why?”
“She is Bea’s mother.”
“She does not give a care for Beatrice.”
“Not true,” Sirque managed.
“She’s done nothing to earn this treatment.”
“We had an accord,” Malrick stated. “She never returns to Faery. I would not concern myself with her ever again.”
“She was only looking for me,” Bea pleaded. “You are a monster!”
“I am no more a monster than she is,” Malrick insisted. “And to show you how amiable I can be, I will give the valiant werewolf a choice. He may leave Faery through the portal in my home with either my daughter or my ex–demon lover.”
Malrick tilted his silver eyes on Kir. “Choose.”
Chapter 28
“I’ve never liked being forced to a decision,” Kir said, stalling for time. He didn’t know how to get around this situation. Certainly Malrick must suspect he would choose Bea.
But he could not abandon Sirque. He’d made a promise to her.
The demoness struggled, so he let her slip down to stand beside him. He supported her across the back as she valiantly stood on her own. She had to be in excruciating pain, but he had no sense of how long it took a demon to heal.
“This demon’s death will bring you no satisfaction,” he said.
Malrick shrugged. “Of course it will. I will know my dishonored word has been avenged.”
The man sought a balm to soothe a compact of words? As had Etienne in support of pack Valoir. How lives were ruined with mere words.
Sirque’s body panted, her shoulder falling against Kir’s chest. She couldn’t realize she rested against him. Defeated, she was weak. He needed to see her back to the mortal realm or, perhaps, Daemonia, where she could heal by feeding off the vita from others. But remembering her need for skin contact, he slid his hand across her back, seeking the slash in her leather clothing, where his palm pressed against her cool yet bloodied flesh.
As for Bea, she stood behind her father. Kir wished she were standing in his arms. He only wanted to take her home and make love to her, to give her the skin-on-skin contact that she also required for healing, for her very survival.
“There is no third option,” Malrick said. “You must choose.”
“If I choose one or the other,” Kir offered, “then I request the one not chosen is set free in the Wilds.”
“Why?”
“To struggle to either her death or her freedom should she find a portal.”
Sirque’s snicker against his arm was felt more than heard. She approved of his request. He knew she could survive after witnessing her strength on his journey here.
“Would that not please you more to see one of them fight for life?”
Malrick looked at Bea. Did he not want his daughter to suffer that fate once again? Could he possibly care about her? Kir couldn’t imagine a father being so cruel—no, not even when he’d believed his father had abandoned him—but the sidhe were a breed that he would never completely understand. Even the demoness had a heart, for he’d discovered that while talking with her.
Malrick gestured with annoyance. “Very well. You may take one to the mortal realm with you, wolf. The other shall be unloosed in the depths of the Wilds. No weapons. No provisions. No mercy.”
Malrick snapped his fingers and Bea’s crystal blade soared into his grip. A nod of his head set his henchmen to task. They tugged Sirque from Kir’s grasp, but he sensed the demoness moved willingly toward her fate. Black blood oozed down her arms and spattered the henchmen’s knees as she dropped to land on all fours beside her daughter. Her head bowed, and her horns clacked
on the stone floor.
They held Bea beside Sirque, who managed to lift her head and look upon her daughter. Bea, too, looked over her mother’s face. Black tears stained Sirque’s cheeks and painted her mouth. The resemblance was in their dark hair, the shape of their faces and the glint in their eyes. Even tortured, Sirque’s eyes brightened at the sight of Bea standing so close.
“I am sorry,” the demoness whispered.
“I forgive you,” Bea said. She swallowed and reached out to grasp Sirque’s hand. The bond mark glowed as did the markings on Bea’s feet. And Kir thought the demoness’s veins darkened beneath her skin. “Kir told me everything. How you can’t touch me...”
“I can feel your life,” Sirque said on a gasp. She tugged her hand out of Bea’s grasp. “My daughter.”
Malrick shook his head. “Dramatics.” He clapped his hands together sharply, snaring Kir’s attention away from the women. “Choose!”
Kir met Sirque’s eyes. With the slightest nod, she acknowledged his difficult decision. He wanted to thank her for bringing him back to Bea. For having the unselfish heart to bring him to Faery. This was going to hurt. All of them.
He nodded once. The demoness closed her eyes.
“I choose my wife,” Kir said.
Malrick whisked his arm before him and the room flickered with the blue faery flame. A mad humming sounded in Kir’s ears. He wanted to press his palms over them to shut it out, but suddenly he felt a hand in his. Clasping, clinging. The world toppled. His boots stepped left and right into a secure stance. He clutched Bea to his chest.
And then they stood still, holding each other in the cold, reflecting shadows of an underground passageway. A river flowed slowly by. The Seine. He recognized this as the portal where Sirque had led him into Faery.
“Home,” he whispered.
Bea lifted onto her tiptoes and kissed him. “Home. Now...” She clasped his hand and kissed the back of it. Bright pink eyes met his with hope. “What is your plan for rescuing my mother?”
* * *
Kir insisted on taking Bea home before revealing his plans. She was on board with that. After lingering in her husband’s arms as they stood inside the foyer of their home, she finally forced herself away from the warmth of his body and tugged him upstairs.
“Showers!” she announced. “I’ve never been so desperate to be away from you than I am now. I must smell like a siren and look worse. I don’t even want to look in the mirror.”
Kir cupped her face as they topped the stairs. “You are gorgeous. A little smudged here and there.” He rubbed his fingers over her forehead and jaw.
Clothing was shed on the way to the bathroom, and Bea was first in under the hot stream. She unfurled her wings and let the water spill over them. And when he joined her and slicked his fingers over her wings, the heady electricity of passion shot through her system. All the faery dust that covered his skin was washed away in a spill of sparkling liquid that swirled about their feet and down the drain.
For a moment in Faery she’d thought he’d abandoned her. What a fool she had been to consider that. As she turned to him now and hugged her breasts against his chest, the man stroked the top arcs of her wings until she bent her fingers into his skin and dug in her nails.
“Oh, Kir, I don’t ever want to be away from you again.”
He nuzzled kisses along her jaw and at her neck while one of his hands slipped around to slick over her mons and into her folds. “I’ll do what I can to be here for you whenever you need me.”
He hadn’t made a promise, and that was better for Bea. Because promises could be broken, and who knew what the future held for them? She’d always have an arrogant, controlling father who did as he pleased. She felt sure she’d not seen the last of him. As for her mother, they needed to rescue her, or at least try. And she knew her brave werewolf husband would give it his all.
“Love you,” she whispered.
The strokes at her wings, combined with the consistent pressure at her clit, enveloped her in a dizzying orgasm that commanded she do nothing but receive. To fall into Kir’s strong arms and bask in the love he gave her.
He lifted her and held her body against the hard landscape of his abs and hips, which allowed her to splay her arms back and touch the edges of her wings. She pulled them out and wrapped each wing about them as if a cloak, and Kir bent to lick the gossamer fabric.
“You beguile me, Beatrice. I am happy to be a wolf without a pack so long as I know that you will always be waiting to catch me in your wings.”
She’d forgotten about his banishment. He’d purposely allowed it to happen so he could be free to go into Faery to find her. An immense sacrifice that she might never completely comprehend. For she did not understand family, and the tight bonds that could enmesh an entire pack. Yet the scars she felt on his back proved their bond was stronger.
“I want to be worthy,” she whispered, feeling the shivery sweetness of orgasm slowly melt through her bones. She leaned forward and nestled her head against his chest. “Thank you, Kir.”
“We’ll figure things out together, yes? The future is what we make it. It’ll be good.”
“I know it will be.”
He leaned over and turned off the water. They toweled each other off. Bea wrapped the towel around his hips and shimmied it back and forth. Bowing, her wings still out and shimmering off the water droplets, she licked the head of his rigid cock.
He groaned and again his fingers found the solid arcs of her wings. He held on as she took him in her mouth and licked him as if he were a dessert made for a hot summer day. She loved this man and she wanted to please him and own him.
Her fingers trailed down his powerful thighs and she bent her wings forward to caress about his legs and hips, drawing them up to hug his back. Enveloped within her enchantment, her werewolf husband let out a howl that she recognized as joy. His hips bucked and he spilled into her mouth. She took all of him, reveling in their bond.
Reaching down, he clasped her hand, and the bond mark glowed brightly. And Bea knew that it wasn’t she who had done the enchanting but, rather, her werewolf husband who had enchanted her.
* * *
Kir didn’t have a plan for getting Sirque back, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t come up with one. Clad only in jeans, he paced the living room. Bea wandered in from the kitchen. It felt great to have his naked faery back.
She handed him a goblet of wine and sipped her tea. “Turn around. Let me take a look at your back.”
He did as he was told and didn’t wince when she touched the one spot where he felt sure claws had cut into his rib bones. The final strike from Jacques.
“Almost completely healed. It’s been four mortal days. You should have healed faster.”
“Blame it on the wolfsbane,” he said, turning to pull her onto his lap as he sat on the big easy chair. “And a few weird creatures in Faery I don’t even have names for.” She set the goblet on the coffee table for him, then snuggled up to his bare chest.
“Banishment is cruel and unusual punishment. Couldn’t they have let you walk away with a ‘don’t let the door hit you on the way out, buddy’?”
“That’s not how it’s done. When you belong to a pack, you abide by their ways, good, bad, old and new. They are instituted for a purpose.”
“To humiliate you?”
“To show other wolves that I was banished.”
“But it wasn’t because you did anything wrong. Oh, I wish you hadn’t had to suffer just for me.”
“Just for you? Always for you, Bea. Always.”
He hugged her to him, slipping his hand between her legs. She slid her arms down his and opened her legs to give him free rein over her. Such luxury to be back in this realm, melting in her husband’s arms, with not a care in the world. At least, not a care she wanted to consider at this moment. Soon, she would do that.
Gripping the hand Kir was not using, she pulled it to her mouth and kissed him, then tongued the join be
tween his thumb and forefinger. He liked that, and to show it, his other hand pressed a little deeper, slightly harder, focusing on her core, leading her to a blissful, trippy abandon that made her feel as if her wings were out and soaring through the air.
The bond mark glowed about their clasped hands. And it seemed to encompass Bea’s whole body as, with one perfect stroke of her husband’s finger, her hips bucked and her body released her into their shared love. She cried out and reached back to clasp his hair, pushing her fingers into it and then down to his neck, where she clung as her body spasmed and rode the wave of pleasure.
Chapter 29
Kir did have a plan after all. And the Jones brothers agreed to help this time around because it didn’t involve going into Daemonia. Faery was a new and intriguing conquest for them.
Pushing the living room furniture to the walls to expose the tapestry carpet, Kir prepared the room as Certainly Jones had instructed. Bea stood at the end of the couch, eager to help her hubby, but he lifted the whole thing at the center and managed it himself.
“Show-off.” She teased a coil of hair about her forefinger. “So you really think this will work? Magic kind of freaks me out. And those brothers are even freakier.”
“You swooned over them when they were here before.”
“Swoon? Me? No.” She cast her look aside. “Maybe a little. But no. They’re so dark.”
“And your mother is not?”
She settled onto the couch, cross-legged, catching her chin in her palm.
“I’m sorry.” He leaned over her and kissed the crown of her head. “It’s what she is. She really does care about you. And we will get her out of Faery. No matter what.”
“You’re too kind to me, lover. You’ve sacrificed so much for me.”
“And you have not? Bea, you left your home for me. You carried my child.”
“And we both know how well that went.”
“It will happen again.”
“But what if I do have a child and, like my mother, I can’t touch the baby? Oh, Kir, I’m not so sure about starting a family now.”
