Masters of the Hunt: Fated and Forbidden

by Sarra Cannon

  “I don’t doubt that. Most folks have some bitterness toward her, but few are equipped to do anything about it.”

  “Well, I’m certainly not. I don’t even know her. All I do know is that Heath seems to think it’s a goddamned hoot that his mother would consider me a threat.”

  “Aye, ye’re a threat, indeed. And consider this—he thought that even before he knew who ye’r mother was.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Who would I possibly be a threat to? Not even the mice at the motel are afraid of me. They’re brazen enough to run across the counter while I’m standing at it.”

  He tipped his chin down and stared at her through narrowed eyes. “I can help ye find out just how threatening ye could be, if ye’d like. My Katie might have tamped it down in ye as was her prerogative, but the magic’s still there. Ye’re my grandgirl, so I can still move things around a bit. Make some tweaks so ye could pull it out yerself.”

  Simone? Threatening? She didn’t buy it. She was pathetic on the best of days, and could hardly manage to get her hair brushed when she was depressed…which was unfortunately often. Yeah, she was scary all right. Maybe he was counting her sallow, dry skin and rough-dried clothes in that assessment. She had to look a mess. But…if there was indeed something unique and special about her, shouldn’t she explore it? She’d spent the past six years feeling like no one cared and that she was alone. Maybe that was just part of her fate—her time in the fuck-you-up machine that was meant to mold her into what she was now.

  “It’s up to ye,” he said. “Ye’ll be just fine without it, but I’d argue ye’d be better with it.”

  “What kind of…of power are you talking about?”

  The heavy door flew open and slapped the wall, and Heath put his head in. “Sorry to cut your visit short, but we’ve got to run. Literally, run. We’ve got about a minute before Mum’s aide emerges from the tunnel we took from the castle and catches up. Little sniveling arse.” He added that last bit in a mutter.

  Simone looked to Fergus, who sighed and shook his head. “Go on, lass. I’ll leave the mound unlocked for ye…in case ye come back.”

  She nodded slowly, and started for the door, only to turn around on a whim. She ran to Fergus took his cheeks in his hands, and kissed his scarred forehead.

  “Aw, lass,” he said softly as gentle pinpricks of his energy sought entry against her flesh and worked its way in. It gathered and combined inside her and rushed from heart to head and back again, leaving her a bit dizzy and slow to move. “Ye better run,” he whispered. “Don’t want that sniveling arse to see ye.”

  It took her a couple of tries, but she finally got her legs to move. Slowly, trudging like her feet were filled with cement at first, and then the numbness dispersed in the form of tingles throughout her body. She felt like little fireworks exploded within her and all the residual magic that had set them off scattered within and sowed itself to multiply. She felt so heavy, so slow. She looked back only once before shutting the door and running behind Thom, a middle-aged woman dressed in maid’s attire, and a little girl who clutched a ragged teddy bear.

  “This was your errand?” she called back breathlessly to Heath.

  “Aye. Open the mound, will you?”

  She ran ahead and pressed her hand to the sod. The hill revealed its door, and they piled through it.

  “Close it,” Thom said. “Otherwise, it’ll stay open for two minutes, and it won’t open as fast for him as it would for a key, especially since he’s so goddamned weak.”

  “Close it…how?” She wasn’t sure how to go about closing it, so she tried putting her hand against the doorjamb. Fortunately, that did the trick. The door slammed shut and dirt filled in.

  “Whoa!” The little girl squealed with delight.

  “Like that, do you, Olivia?” Heath pointed toward the tunnel that led back to the Irish side of the portal. “My lady’s a key, just like her grandfather.”

  “Yikes.” Simone squinted at them all. There were two of each of them. Blurred, overlapping…

  She gave her head a hard shake and the doubling cleared. Must be low blood sugar.

  “You can marvel over her all you’d like on the plane,” Heath said, “but for now, we’ve got to run. It’ll only take a minute for that idiot to talk the door into appearing.”

  They ran.

  Chapter 9

  Heath pretended he didn’t notice the furtive looks Simone gave him all the way back to the U.S. and then west to New Mexico. Chatterbox Olivia had been bidding for her attention from the moment they’d squeezed into that tiny rental car and hadn’t let up since. She was so curious about Simone, and rightfully so. Anyone would be, but Olivia had never left the realm before. She probably saw Simone as regal and sophisticated, though he suspected his princess would have quickly refuted that. Every time he looked across the airplane aisle at her, past Olivia, her gaze would quickly flit away. Obviously, she didn’t want to be caught looking. He wasn’t sure why, but he intended to quickly disabuse her of the notion she couldn’t ogle him if she wanted to. Better her husband than some other asshole.

  When they landed in Albuquerque at long last, he cornered her next to a souvenir stand.

  Her cheeks went dark as a ripe plum. Charming.

  He leaned in and whispered, “What’s with all the shifty looks, love? You’ll give a guy a complex.”

  Her swallow was audible. “It’s nothing.”

  “Obviously something.”

  “Really, nothing. I’m just having a hard time figuring you out.”

  “That counts as something in my book.” He started them toward baggage claim. “If you have questions, ask them. There should be no secrets between us.”

  “If I knew the right questions to ask, I most certainly would.”

  “What’s bothering you? Tell me the source of your discomfort and perhaps we can figure out the appropriate questions from there.”

  “You went back to the fairy realm to get Olivia and her mother.”

  “Aye?”

  “But you’re a…mercenary.”

  “Ouch.” He steered them around a slow-moving couple and picked up some speed to catch up to Thom and the ladies. “I’m not a mercenary. I have enough money. I’d much rather prefer you call me a fairy thug. That’s slightly more accurate, though still mildly offensive. I don’t particularly wish for my wife to think I’m a brute.”

  She sighed. “I’m not your—”

  “How about we argue that over dinner?” He was going to convince her that she was, even if it killed him. Perhaps once they’d consummated the marriage, she’d be more inclined to believe him. If she was the kind of woman who needed a signed and stamped piece of paper to prove his undying devotion, then, well…he’d give her that, too. It’d be the best twenty bucks he’d ever spent.

  “Where are we going?”

  They stepped onto the down escalator and scaled far enough down that they were only four steps behind Thom.

  “We’re going to a place called Norseton. That’s where we’ll leave Olivia and Shaileen. Some good friends of mine will mind them. The Afótama. I mentioned them before.”

  “Mind them for how long?”

  He took her arm as they stepped off the escalator. “Until no one cares they’re gone.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that may be a very long time?”

  “Because you’re smart.”

  They collected their bags and fortunately were able to acquire a rental vehicle twice the size of the dinky toy car they’d puttered around in back in Ireland. Olivia and Shaileen, having stayed awake during most of their trans-Atlantic trip, fell asleep almost as soon as Thom got them on the highway. Simone, between them in the second row, seemed close to nodding off herself. She warred admirably with the rocking motion of the SUV and her obsessive need to know what was going on. She had to be quite uncomfortable with Olivia’s head pressed against her arm at such an odd angle, but she didn’t bother relocating the child or even shifting a bit.
Probably didn’t want to wake her seeing as how she was finally quiet.

  “I’m surprised she’s not more skittish,” Thom said in a hushed tone.

  “Who? Simone?”

  “No. Olivia.”

  “Ah.” Heath shifted a bit farther down and adjusted the seatbelt that had been cutting into his shoulder. He understood Thom’s unspoken point. Olivia would go practically catatonic in the presence of Heath’s mother. She didn’t even have to touch to child to illicit fear, and Mum had that effect on most people in the realm. She’d fly into rages over small, silly things and had everyone around her dancing on eggshells—sometimes literally. Olivia didn’t technically work for Mum, not yet anyway, but her mother did. She’d certainly been caught in the backdraft of the queen’s fury enough times to be wary around the royal court members and most strangers, too. It’d taken three years for the child to not cry on sight upon seeing him. He wasn’t sure what to make of the fact she didn’t fear Simone. Perhaps she didn’t quite understand who she was…or what she was. Even Heath wasn’t sure of that. Simone’s energy was changing slightly with each passing minute. He’d never encountered anything like it.

  “Did you check in with the crew?” Thom asked.

  “No. Let me do it now.” Heath turned the radio down and freed his phone from his jeans pocket. Siobhan answered on the third ring.

  “How goes it?” he asked.

  “Everything’s okay here. Had a couple of guests stop by on their way up or down the coast. One of those directions, I don’t know. I stopped paying attention because the guy was rambling about the rock band on my shirt and his wife cut him the scuzzy eyeball. We cleared your junk out and put them in the room you were in.”

  “You probably could have told them the motel was full. Wouldn’t have been a lie.” He noticed Simone shifting in his periphery and turned to look at her. Her eyes were wide open now. The talk of the motel must have perked her up.

  “I know, but it’s fun playing at having a normal job. Where are you? Is everyone okay?”

  He winked at Simone and faced front. “An hour outside of Albuquerque heading toward Norseton. Everyone’s fine. We were in and out. Flights lined up beautifully for us. Almost got Simone spotted by that dingbat aide of Mum’s though.”

  “But did you get spotted by Mum’s dingbat aide?”

  “Yes. He was chasing me, not because he believed I had abducted Olivia and Shaileen, but because I made a potshot at him.”

  “You what?”

  “Had to distract him. Hit him with the butt of that frou-frou dagger he carries around, and by the time he had his wits about him, I was half a football pitch away with a ton of walls between us.”

  “So, he didn’t see them?”

  “No. Just me. Probably blacked out for a moment right after he saw me if I hit him in the right place.”

  “I’m sure you did. You always do. How’s Simone holding up?”

  “As well as could be expected, I suppose. Admirably, actually, given her circumstances.”

  “What do you mean? I suspect you don’t mean the apparent one—being stuck with you.”

  “Fuck you. I hope your fated mate has halitosis and gives you the gift of persistent crabs on your meeting day.”

  “You’re such a cunt.”

  “Aye. I’ll take that as a compliment. What I meant was that we figured out who her mother is.”

  “Seriously? That didn’t take long. Did some meddling goddess whisper a clue on the wind?”

  “No. It was easy enough to unravel that particular mystery once we guessed that she’s a key.”

  “You’re shitting me. Does that mean…”

  “Yep. She and Fergus had a cup of tea and a nice chat she won’t tell me about.”

  “Maybe you’re not as charming as you thought.”

  “Keep up with the insults, and I won’t tell you who Thom and I nabbed during our flight to Ireland.”

  “Don’t tell me you nabbed a target you weren’t even looking for.”

  “Fine, I won’t tell you. I also won’t tell you about how he may have had something to do with that missing jewelry of yours.”

  “My wrist cuffs?” Her voice took on a high pitch at the end indicative of interest.

  “Mm-hmm. Amongst other things.”

  “For God’s sake, who was it?”

  “Deanie.”

  “You’re kidding me. Deanie stole my shit?”

  “Not just yours.”

  “Tell me you skinned him alive and hung him up by his big toes.”

  “No, I wouldn’t do that in front of Simone. She already thinks I’m uncivilized.”

  Simone huffed.

  It took all the self-restraint he had to not turn around and glower at her. His princess had so little regard for him. Then again, he hadn’t really done much to earn any. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thom marked him. I told him to find the shit and bring it back to me. If he doesn’t…”

  “Got it. I’ll find him and twist his dick into a pretzel if he doesn’t bring it back. I hate getting my hands dirty, but…” Siobhan let the words fall off, but she didn’t really need to elaborate. Fairies didn’t take kindly to having their favored possessions stolen. His sister was pretty as a doll, but she could be vicious when she wanted to be. It just wasn’t often enough in his opinion. “Tell Simone her motel’s fine and that she shouldn’t feel compelled to hurry back, even if she’s drying to get away from you.”

  “Sod off.”

  “Love you, too. Oh. Do me a favor and ask Simone if it’s all right if Daryn or Caryl drive her car to the store. We need things and it’d be nice to have use of a trunk, even if it’s a small one.”

  He turned.

  Simone raised an eyebrow.

  “Do you mind if they use your car?”

  “No. It’s on fumes, so hopefully they’ll make it to a gas station. I think the keys are in my cottage.”

  “I’m certain they’ll find them.” Into the phone, he said, “Go ahead.”

  “Bye.” Siobhan disconnected. Heath tucked the phone back into his pocket and glanced at the digital clock in the dashboard. Past lunchtime, but too early for supper. He was dying to get Simone alone for a while—craved touching her, letting his energy clash with hers. Even just five minutes in a restaurant bathroom would bolster him, but it didn’t seem to be in the cards. He’d have to wait.

  — —

  Simone wasn’t sure what to make of the desert community unfolding in front of her. It’d shown up on the horizon like an unbelievable mirage, a little civilization out of place against the barren landscape. They’d been driving through the desert for two hours when the lovely craftsman-style sign appeared on the roadside, pointing right and indicating, Norseton, 0.5 mi.

  From the highway, Norseton looked like one of those new subdivisions or planned communities that were always popping up overnight in the suburbs. It was so far from any infrastructure, it had to be self-sustaining. The solar panels on the roofs and the water tower painted with the yellows, oranges, and reds of the Southwest lent credence to that theory.

  A redheaded man stepped out of the small gatehouse as they approached, and Thom let down his window. “Weren’t expecting you.” There was a smile in the stranger’s voice, no accusation as he raised the gate. “I’m sure Tess and the boys don’t mind you dropping in whenever you want, but it’s nice to know when you’re on the way.”

  “We’re not staying long, Joe.” If Thom’s white-knuckled grip around the steering wheel wasn’t enough to prompt Simone’s concern, his sickly yellow pallor was. “Need a favor.”

  Or was he yellow? She closed her eyes and rubbed them. When she opened them again, he was back to his usual fairy brute coloring. No… His coloring shifted before her eyes. Normal, back to that yellow, then normal once more.

  What the hell?

  She caught Heath in her gaze, and he was normal, as was Olivia and Shaileen. It was just Thom.

  Joe furrowed his brow. “Is t
his a favor involving guns and swords or something a little less active? We’re still short on guards.”

  “Not active at all. We need you to give a couple of our refugees sanctuary. A maid and her child.”

  “We’ve got plenty of room for that, that’s for sure. Staying for dinner? I can get someone else to hang out here in the gatehouse and come eat with you.”

  Thom’s hue spiked to a violent greenish yellow, and she realized then it wasn’t him specifically, but an overlay of him. His aura. His mood, perhaps? She watched the color flux, enthralled.

  “We can stay for a while,” Heath said. “Long enough to get these two settled in, but then we’ll need to run. Left the gang back east.”

  “How’s Matt holding up? I know Ollie worries about him.”

  “He’s fine. We’ve got him partnered up with one of our youngsters.”

  Simone scoffed quietly. Calling a seventy-year-old a youngster just didn’t sit right with her, but then again, she didn’t really understand how fairy aging worked. For that matter, how old was her grandfather? Heath had called him “old man.” She would have pegged Fergus at around fifty-five. She furrowed her brow and stared unseeing at the digital clock. Did demifae have increased life expectancy? If so, that may be the one benefit she’d reap from the debacle. She’d be able to make up for the six years she’d wasted at the motel, and maybe go back to school and learn a new trade. Something…Internetty, maybe.

  “Go on in,” Joe said. “I’ll call Ollie and let him know you’re coming up.”

  Thom took off before Heath had properly thanked the man.

  “For God’s sake.” Heath chuckled. “What do you think he’s going to do to you? You probably outweigh him by fifty pounds and wear far more weapons.”

  “Fathers tend to be very creative with their torture if they need to be.” The yellow overlay to Thom ebbed, seemingly for good this time.

  Simone wondered if it was corresponding to his mood, and if so, what mood it was. Could a mere human really intimidate someone as unflinchingly aggressive as Thom? She unfastened her seatbelt and leaned into the gap between the front seats. “Whose father is he, and why would Thom be so concerned about torture?”