The Consort: A Fae Hunters Novella (The Fae Hunters Book 1)

by Suzanne Johnson

  “My back recovered quickly once our healer arrived. My pride will take a while longer.” He smiled, walked behind the bar, and extracted a bottle of beer—or so the label said. “Let’s sit at a table.”

  Once they’d taken chairs at the table nearest the stairwell, he took a sip of beer, leaned back, and crossed his arms over his chest. Even his forearms were muscled, his hands strong and capable of wielding much magic. Lia wanted to touch him, but her seduction skills were nonexistent. She didn’t know where to start, so she kept her hands on her wine glass, fidgeting.

  “Well?” Faulk cocked his head and studied her far too closely for her comfort. “I assume you wouldn’t seek out the home of the Captain of the Fae Hunters if you didn’t have a plan.”

  “This is your home?” Lia glanced at the stairwell, then at the doors along the hallway.

  “Don’t change the subject, Liandra. Tell me why I should not return you to Florian immediately and save myself a hell of a lot of trouble.”

  Lia took another gulp of wine.

  “I heard you last night,” she said softly. “You asked yourself how you could ever send me back to him. I…” She finished the glass of wine, its warmth burning along her throat and reminding her how long it had been since she ate. “I thought of something that might keep Florian from wanting me back.”

  “Did you now.” It was more statement than question, and Faulk motioned for her to stay as he went to retrieve the bottle of wine and pour more into her glass. “Don’t drink that too fast. So tell me, Lia. What do you think would make Florian back off?”

  She took a fortifying sip and raised her gaze to meet his. “I want you to take me, to be my lover. If I’m no longer a virgin, Florian won’t want me.”

  “Ah, my Liandra.” Faulk reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m afraid that won’t work.”

  “Why not?” She twined her fingers through his—a bold move, she thought.

  He pulled his hand away, leaving hers lying alone and vulnerable on the dark wood. “Because Florian’s original deal for you is off the table, Lia. He will see you ruined physically and emotionally, and then he will see you dead.”

  Taking another sip of beer, he studied her with an expression she couldn’t read. “My orders aren’t just to catch you. They are to take you as hard and as often as I want, then share you with any other Hunters who care to partake before you’re returned to Faierie.”

  “Oh.” Lia had no answer for that, and the horror of her fate sank on her like the heaviest anchor at sea. Her face burned so fiercely, she thought it might spark flames if touched.

  “He doesn’t want you physically marked when I return you to him.” Faulk leaned across the table, his eyes unreadable. “But he does want you broken.”

  9

  THE FEAR AND DESPAIR on Lia’s face broke something inside him, but Faulk had to make her understand the trouble she faced.

  “The only thing Florian hates worse than disobedience is humiliation, and in his eyes, you’ve humiliated him.”

  Aw, hell. Now she was crying and trying not to. Perfectly shaped tears rolled from each of those deep blue eyes even as she clenched her jaw and tried to keep an even expression on her face.

  Faulk rubbed his own eyes, as much to block her from his vision as to soothe the nagging headache he still had from her stunt with the letter opener.

  “I thought you would help me. I thought you were different.” Lia got to her feet, knocked over the chair, and turned toward the door. Halfway there, she stopped as if remembering where she was, and who lay in her path.

  “You won’t get past Romy.” Faulk took a sip of his beer, feeling like a total ass. “Come back and sit down.”

  He had to scare her enough to go along with the plan he’d begun to form while tossing and turning the past seven hours, trying to forget the taste and feel of her. Trying not to imagine what it would be like to take her. Never imagining she’d come in and offer herself to him.

  Not to him, he reminded himself. To anyone who would ruin her for Florian. She had to understand that it wouldn’t matter. The situation had gone too far.

  She turned and slowly walked back toward the table, then veered off and raced down the hallway. Faulk’s outstretched hand grasped nothing but air.

  Damn, but his reflexes were slow. He prayed to the gods, not for the first time, that Faerie would not be drawn into the war between species said to be brewing in the otherworlds. The toxicity of metal made the fae too vulnerable to defend themselves, even against humans.

  Lia had run into the forest room and slammed the door. It couldn’t be locked from the inside, so unless she found his secret exit and stumbled through the veil back into Faerie, he’d catch her eventually.

  First, he stuck his head outside and found Romy leaning against the alley’s back wall, looking like his best friend had just died. Not yet. Hopefully, not tonight.

  “Come on in and get the bar ready to open as usual. Until you hear from me otherwise, the forest room’s not available.”

  “Faulk, you fool.” Romy might as well have bitten into one of the lemons behind the bar, his expression was so sour. “Fine. You’re a big boy. Keep your phone on you in case I need to bring Vanoli back to human-side.”

  Faulk grinned and led his friend back into the bar. “Maybe it won’t come to that. Lia’s hiding from me right now; as soon as I track her down, I’ll figure out what to do with her.”

  “Right. And there’s some swampland behind the Spring Palace that might interest you.”

  Faulk considered donning the thick leather vest he’d wear for a real hunt, in case Lia had armed herself with a fork or another letter opener. He decided against it. His New Orleans Saints t-shirt and jeans weren’t threatening. Anything that belonged on a true Hunt would send the wrong message.

  He would die before he let Florian touch her. There was the simple truth of it, something Romy had seen before Faulk himself had known it.

  He slipped into the forest room and closed the door behind him. The room had been cleaned and its illusions turned to their default settings: a full moon, moderately cool temperatures, light fog on the ground, gentle wind.

  Using the controls next to the door, he lowered the lighting to half-moon and smiled when he heard an oof from inside the forest. She had enough human blood, and lack of training, that her night vision would be nowhere near as sharp as his or her senses as keen.

  His soft-soled boots made no noise on the forest floor, but she wore hard-soled slippers. He tracked her easily without making any real attempt to catch her, just making an occasional noise—a broken twig, a cough—so she’d know she was being hunted.

  Before he realized it, his body had reacted to the hunt. The whole point of the room, after all, was to give the Hunter and the Hunted the real experience without the finality. His heart rate sped up, adrenaline pumped through his system, his groin tightened. He was a Hunter; it was in his blood. And tonight, Liandra was his prey.

  To his right, he heard a stumble followed by a frustrated, angry huff.

  He turned that way and came upon her within a few seconds, sitting on the forest floor. Panting from the run, she’d tugged the dress up to mid-thigh to give her access to her left ankle, which she rubbed.

  “Is it broken? Do you need a healer?”

  Lia started, unaware he’d been watching her. “Why would you bother, if I’m to die anyway? You can enjoy the spoils of your hunt regardless of the state of my ankle, can’t you? And your men?”

  She struggled to her feet, slapping away the hand he offered to help her. She tested her weight on the ankle. It held her, but she didn’t run again.

  “I wouldn’t leave you in pain.”

  “Like I left you, you mean?” She picked straw out of her hair and threw it on the ground. “Damn faeries. I hate them all, including myself. Let’s do this.”

  She tugged off the green dress with its intricate white embroidery, and Faulk’s breath left him momentarily. By
the gods, she was beautiful. Her hair tumbled wildly around her shoulders, and her eyes were blue fire. Lush breasts threatened to spill from a simple gold silk chemise.

  “What are you doing?” His voice sounded as if it were he, rather than Lia, who’d been running hard.

  “Offering myself to you. Go ahead and do what you’re going to do, then take me where you’re going to take me. I’m tired of being frightened, I’m tired of running, and I see no way out since you’ve made it clear you answer to Florian.”

  Lia grasped one strap of the chemise and pulled it down, baring her shoulder. “I’ll make it simple for you.”

  He strode forward and grasped her arms. “I would never turn you over to that bastard, Lia.”

  The anger drained from her almost visibly, but the look she gave him still held a hint of anger. “Then why the graphic speech? To frighten me? To make the Hunt more fun for yourself?”

  His hands still circled her upper arms, but he slid them up to either side of her neck, cradling her jaw as he leaned in to kiss her. Just a soft kiss, not a claiming. “I’m sorry.”

  She shoved him away and took a step back. “What are your plans, Falconer, if you claim you won’t turn me in? Should I simply trust you?”

  “Yes, you should. You were right to come here.” Faulk sat on the forest floor and leaned against the trunk of a massive oak. The time for frightening her was done; he’d played his part too well. “I spoke the truth out there, of Florian’s intentions. You needed to understand the depth of his rage. Perhaps it’s madness or perhaps it’s evil. Regardless, he’s one powerful bastard.”

  Lia’s voice softened. “So are you, Prince Falconer.”

  Powerful or a bastard? Probably a bit of both, Faulk conceded. “But the Court of Autumn will never produce a king, as you know. Only the high princes of Summer and Winter hold the purities of magic required to rule.”

  Lia sat beside him. “If Florian becomes king, Faerie will be ruined. I would not wish to live there.”

  Her statement left Faulk with the opening he sought. “You can’t return to Faerie, Lia. You’ll need to make your way on this side of the veil in order to be safe.” That had been his conclusion, anyway.

  “How? I figured out how to ride in a taxi and rent a hotel room, but the money Kirian gave me before she was caught won’t last forever. My knowledge of human-side is too limited.” She took a deep breath, drawing Faulk’s gaze back to the chemise, the top of which rose and fell with each lungful of air.

  He clenched his fists to keep his fingers off that silk. “I’ll hide you here in town long enough to teach you the things you’ll need to survive human-side. Then you need to get the hell out of here and not tell anyone where you are. Including me. Your faery aura isn’t strong enough for the Hunters to find you unless they get within touching distance.”

  Which he was, and her faery aura tingled across his skin in a faint caress. He would not take her, though, as much as he wanted her. Not and then send her away to fend for herself in the human world. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

  A simple taste of something longed-for was never filling. It simply deepened the hunger.

  10

  LIA’S MIND, WHICH HAD been reeling drunkenly from one horrific scenario to another since she’d sat at the table with Faulk, now froze. Could she live human-side as a permanent resident, always to be, on some level, a fugitive? She found the idea of not returning to Faerie more attractive than she would have thought.

  “I have nothing left in Faerie.” She didn’t try to keep the anger from her voice. “The most I’d ever hoped for my life was to create my jewelry and sell it to the women and men who never accepted me.”

  Faulk sighed. “I hate the class system and the pretenses of court. It’s why I chose to leave the throne to my younger brother and live human-side. Things are different here. I can show you how to survive, get the papers you need to fit in, to find work. You’ll be free to go wherever you want.”

  Lia reached out and lifted one of his hands into hers. It was tanned and strong, with long tapered fingers. “Why would you take such a risk for me?”

  Faulk didn’t hesitate. “You’re all the things I love about Faerie. You’re strong and smart and beautiful and creative. I won’t see you destroyed.”

  Beautiful. He’d called her that before, and even Kirian had told her as much. She’d grown up thinking herself so much the opposite. “Will you do one more thing for me?”

  “If I can.” Faulk cocked his head and gave her a half-smile. “What is it?”

  She lowered his hand and rested it on her breast. “Show me what it means to be loved by someone who thinks I’m beautiful. Just once. So I’ll have it forever.”

  Heat suffused her face at the brazenness of her own words, more so when he pulled his hand away.

  “Lia, I can’t. I…I can’t.”

  She squared her shoulders and kept her eyes on the ground. What was one more humiliation? He’d simply been trying to be kind, or to brush her off like a worrisome gnat. “So you don’t want me, after all. I don’t blame y—”

  His mouth landed on hers with an unexpected force, and suddenly his hands were everywhere. Fingers plucked and stroked until her breasts were on fire, and she couldn’t help but cry out when he slid the top of the chemise down far enough for his mouth and tongue to take up the assault.

  Sweet gods, but she thought she might die if he didn’t touch her there. Then he did, sliding his hand under the disheveled chemise, stroking. Still kissing.

  Lia groaned in protest when he pulled away again and leaned back against the tree, his breathing labored, his eyes closed.

  “Falconer? Faulk?” What was going through his mind? Why didn’t he want her? Had she done something wrong?

  When he opened his eyes to look at her, she saw the same hungry expression she felt inside herself, but also misery.

  “I won’t take you here, like this.” He reached out and straightened her chemise, covering her breasts. “You deserve fine silky linens and a soft bed. I want to see your hair fanned out over thick pillows. I want to touch you slowly, to bring you all the pleasure a woman can enjoy. I want to love you, Lia, not possess you. Not on the floor in a room of make-believe.”

  Her heart grew too large for her chest, as if at any moment it might burst out and end her life from its struggle between happiness and sorrow. “I don’t care that it’s here, Falconer—no, Faulk. Please.”

  She saw it in his eyes when he relinquished the fight within himself. A softness crept into them, and he lowered her to the forest floor atop her abandoned dress. “Are you certain?”

  “This might be all we have, and I want you. I guess I always have, even when I was that tall, skinny girl.” She pulled him to her, losing herself in the new sensations that were so sweet and pure. When he put his hands there, beneath her chemise, he stroked her need until she was almost in tears. She knew it would hurt the first time, but she needed him inside her. Needed him to fill her.

  He settled himself between her thighs and kissed her. “I will be gentle, but it will hurt. The next time, it will be all pleasure, I promise.”

  He couldn’t promise a next time, but Lia took the burst of pain as he entered her and cherished it. Whatever life brought her, and however short or long that life turned out to be, she would know what it felt to have a man inside her that she wanted, and who wanted her. Perhaps she even loved him. Perhaps she always had.

  This would be enough, and as his movements increased and he strained a cry of pleasure, she held him close and thanked the gods for it.

  When he pulled away from her, her body felt empty but her heart was full.

  While he rearranged his own clothes, she pulled the chemise back into place. Then he lay beside her, propped on one elbow, stroking the contours of her face with his fingers as if to memorize their feel. Perhaps that was exactly what he was doing, because the time had come to move into their next roles, not as lovers, not as hunter and prey, bu
t as teacher and student.

  “Teach me how to live in this world.” Her voice was steady. There was a plan, and where a plan existed, there also was hope.

  He kissed her again. “First, we must get you settled somewhere quickly. Do you still have a hotel room?”

  Lia nodded. “I have a safe place until tomorrow.” She could stay there longer, if needed. She smiled. “It is in a place called uptown.”

  Faulk returned the smile. “See how much you’ve already learned? You’ll—”

  The sound of shouting reached them from the direction of the doorway from the bar.

  Faulk got to his feet quickly and pulled her up alongside him.

  Romy’s voice: “I’m telling you, Prince Florian, Faulk is not here and neither is Liandra.”

  Faulk held a finger over his lips, took Lia’s hand, and pulled her in the opposite direction of the voices. It quickly became clear that the illusioned forest was not as large as she’d originally thought; it wasn’t long before they reached a solid row of trees that rested against a back wall, solid but for a narrow doorway between two thick trunks in one corner.

  They didn’t go through it, however, but stopped, waiting.

  Lia’s hearing was not as keen as that of a pure faery, but even she could hear someone—Florian, she assumed—charging like a bull through the forest, back and forth through the trees.

  “I know the bitch is in here.” His voice was tight and his words clipped. Definitely Florian. “I will have Prince Falconer dead by morning by royal decree if I find proof he has helped her escape. My aunt the queen will be happy to strike a blow against the Autumn Court, to knock them off their fence of neutrality.”

  Romy’s voice seemed to be keeping pace with that of the prince. “Should that happen, with all due respect, sir, the queen might not like on which side of the fence the Autumn Court would fall.”

  At the sound of an open-handed slap, Faulk began to move, but Lia grabbed his arm and shook her head. Anger had turned his amber eyes sharper, and the magic flowing from his skin almost burned her where their bodies touched.