by A. S. Green
Ten Minutes.
With a swift inhale, Alex rose from the bed, energy coursing through his body—the remnants of lying next to Ainsley. The message he’d received yesterday was not an idle threat, and Alex would make no mistakes when it came to Ainsley’s safety. Not this time. Not with this queen. Not ever again.
Which was why, sometime after midnight, he’d called Sean McNeely, the chair of the north shore council. It had a vested interest in making sure the Black Castle was truly and entirely eliminated—the BCB had killed thousands of their own—and Alex wanted their backup.
He’d hoped his phone call would be enough to get them on board, but McNeely wanted to see Alex in person before he was willing to believe him. Apparently the succubi’s recent betrayal was blowing back on the ba’vonn-shees. Well, so be it. If getting backup for Ainsley meant a meeting at the Isabella faerie ring, he’d be there.
Alex finished dressing in dark athleticwear, then shot off a text to Callum: Take care of Ainsley. I’ve got business this morning. Explain later.
Then he left his room and jogged down the stairs to get his running shoes. Just as he finished tying them, the front door cracked open and Callum snuck in, trying to avoid the squeaky spot in the floor.
“Where were you?" Alex asked, and Callum jerked, obviously not expecting to find anyone awake. To Alex's surprise, Finn and Knox came in behind him. Knox’s white T-shirt had a large red spot on the collar.
“We went out to feed,” Callum said.
Alarm filled Alex’s chest. By the looks of Knox’s shirt, it was obviously still too soon for a warm feeding. Callum put up his hands, palms out, before Alex exploded in fury.
“Relax, McKee. We’re a little out of practice. Not as tidy as we used to be. But it all went perfectly fine.”
“It did?” He let out a breath.
“The professor’s right,” Knox said, referring to Callum. “Amazing what a little queen in one’s life can do.”
Finn elbowed Knox hard in the ribs for his sarcastic tone, then asked, “Where are you going, McKee? It's not even dawn.”
“Business. I’d explain now, but I’m in a hurry. Clan meeting when I get back.”
“Where’s Ainsley?”
“In my bed. Sleeping.”
Callum’s eyebrows shot up with hopeful surprise.
Knox muttered something about it being “about time.”
“I haven’t bonded her. After what happened yesterday… That’s still on indefinite hold.”
“You’re an idiot,” Knox said. “A coward and an idiot.”
Alex leveled him with a look; he didn’t have time for this. “Take care of her. Get her out in the garden. She’ll need to recharge. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Then he tilted out, arriving at the edge of the Isabella faerie ring in a rush of wind, space, and time. He hadn’t been to Minnesota’s north shore in over seventy years; he hadn’t met with the fae council there in over a century.
He glanced around the circle at the unfamiliar faces, which flickered with the light from the bonfire. It wasn’t the entire council, but rather four representatives: Chairman McNeely, an arrogant looking seelie with salt-and-pepper hair and lavender eyes; a dryad whose anxiety was apparent from the leafy sprouts emerging from his fingers; a female kelpie who appeared to have only recently emerged from Lake Superior; and the one who mattered most to Alex—the hell hound and renowned tracker, Cormac MacConall.
MacConall was as tall as Alex, but rougher in style and his dark hair was tied back to reveal a pair of unblinking gray eyes. Over a year ago, he and his brothers killed the Black Castle’s leader, a cursed monk named Peader. MacConall would no doubt be personally outraged to learn that even one individual was still engaged in Peadar’s sick, sadistic cause.
“Alexander Campbell, this is a pleasure,” McNeely said stiffly. “We’re glad to see you are doing well. We’ve heard reports of further losses within your clan.”
Alex put a fist to his chest in acknowledgment. “We’re doing better and hope to see a revival.”
“Ye found a queen then, aye?” asked MacConall, who still clung to his Irish accent.
Alex dropped his hand to his side, but it remained in a fist. “We have. And she’s the purpose for my visit.”
“We’re listening,” McNeely said.
“A week ago, someone sent me this.” He showed them the first note he received, the one that had led him to the Renaissance fair and to Ainsley.
“Scented paper?” MacConall asked, even though he was standing at least ten feet away.
“Ainsley’s a botanist,” Alex said with some sense of pride. “She makes essential oils, perfumes, creams…and that paper. Then, yesterday, someone delivered a threatening letter to my office with instructions that the messenger make visual contact with me.”
“Are you suggesting one of us is threatening you?” the kelpie asked, stomping a hoofed foot.
“No.” Alex handed the second note to McNeely, who slowly unfolded it. Alex waited for the other council members to gather in and read the message together.
McNeely didn’t react; Alex had told him the gist of it on the phone. But the other three responded with a collective intake of breath.
When Alex looked up, MacConall’s face was stormy, and the kelpie muttered, “Impossible.”
“The Black Castle has been destroyed,” the dryad said as a small green bud erupted from his cheekbone. “Peadar’s dead. Why now?”
“It’s only a theory, but I believe whoever wrote that note has been watching her for some time, waiting to see if she was in fact a queen. If she wasn’t, he was going to be happy to let us wither away as we have been, until the last of us was gone. But if she was truly a queen, and if there was a chance our race could rebound—”
“Watching?” the kelpie asked with disbelief. “The Black Castle never had the kind of patience it would take to watch her for so many years—not without taking action before now.”
Alex's teeth sharpened in response. It had been bothering him since yesterday—the idea of the enemy’s eyes on his queen, on Ainsley, watching her grow and mature. It made him want to rip the bastard limb from limb.
“Ye’re not to blame,” MacConall said.
“What?” Alex asked, snapping out of his thoughts.
“I can see it on yer face. Ye think ye’ve brought this on her, but ye did no such thing. None of us are responsible for their evil.”
“I can’t think about who’s to blame,” Alex lied. “Right now, my only concern is that this monster intends to kill Ainsley and starve my clan out once and for all.”
“Then he must be destroyed,” the dryad said, glancing suggestively toward MacConall.
Alex gave the dryad a small bow of gratitude. “I would be grateful for any help. A lone wolf—” His eyes darted to MacConall, wondering whether the comparison to his kind might cause offense.
MacConall’s grim expression broke for only a second, just long enough for the corner of his mouth to twitch. “No offense taken.”
Alex gave him a short nod. “A lone wolf can be dangerous. He has no one to answer to anymore, and there could be others just like him. I want to make sure we have all possible ears to the ground.”
“And noses,” MacConall added. He took the first note from McNeely and held it to his face, inhaling. “Beyond whatever your queen put into this paper, I also detect ammonia. And alcohol.”
“Something used in a botany lab?” Alex asked. “Her professor?”
MacConall only frowned and smelled the second letter. “This one’s more of the same but also…lemon. And oil.” He inhaled again, then jerked his head away.
“Things used in a kitchen,” the dryad suggested. “Perhaps a chef?”
MacConall narrowed his eyes at the paper, then he looked at Alex. “I can appreciate ye wanting to take care of yer own, but if there are Black Castle still lurking about, my brothers and I would be happy to have yer back.”
“Thank yo
u.”
“What was your queen’s reaction to the messages?” the kelpie asked.
Alex took the papers back from MacConall and folded them neatly, slipping them into his pocket. “I haven’t told her yet.”
The kelpie’s expression turned indignant. “You think keeping her in the dark will protect her?”
Alex’s muscles bunched in anticipation of a fight. “No. But she’s been through a lot recently. I don’t want to overwhelm her, and I wanted to have all the protections in place before I told her.”
“She has the right to know,” the kelpie said, as if speaking on behalf of all females. “And to make her own decisions.”
“She’s new to this life,” Alex said, not used to having to defend his decisions to fae outside his clan. “And she hasn’t fully come into her power.”
“You haven’t bonded her?” MacConall asked, sounding just as surprised as Alex’s own clan mates.
“It’s complicated.”
MacConall actually chuckled and looked down at his boots. “It always is.”
“We’ll be in contact,” McNeely said. “And I’m sorry to ask this—I’m sure your queen probably misses you by now—”
Alex winced. He doubted that was true. The taste of her fear, and the way she’d shook in his arms was still too recent.
“But I suggest you bring this information to some smaller councils on the other side of the lake. They’ll want to see the letter for themselves.”
Alex was itching to get back home. Ainsley was probably waking up by now. But he’d started this, and he needed to finish it. The more backup he had, the better for her. “Whatever it takes to put all the fae properly on guard. Thank you for meeting with me.”
“May Danu be with you,” McNeely said, and the council adjourned.
25
Ainsley woke and smiled against her pillow. That musky scent she’d smelled last night—an intoxicating herbal cologne—still lingered in the room. She didn’t know why, but something about it made her want Alex even more than she normally did. And that was saying something.
She reached out for him and found his spot empty, the sheets already cool. She opened her eyes and lifted her head, her first thought being that he must be in the bathroom. Her second thought was to try and get her hair under control before he came back.
It wasn’t until she was sitting up and pulling her hair into a knot that she realized the truth. He was gone. He’d left without waking her. He said he wouldn’t leave her, but he did. Maybe he’d even left as soon as she’d fallen asleep. A cold shiver ran through her.
“Why am I being such an idiot?” Her whole life she’d made it a point not to get attached, not to fall, not to care. She came from a history of abandoned women, and her mother’s lonely life was a constant reminder of the consequences of losing one’s heart.
So yesterday, when she’d told Alex she felt “foolish,” she’d meant for wanting him when he didn’t want her in the same way. His reluctance in letting her stay in his bed was testament to how ridiculous she was being. He wanted her because he believed she could help his clan. That was it.
Maybe there’d be times when things would get intimate, but clearly that would only be on Alex’s terms. Two nights ago in the powder room, he’d made her feel like a sexual goddess, gorgeous and adored. Last night she’d practically had to beg to sleep in his bed.
He said sleep would make her feel better. It hadn’t. And his refusal to touch her had made her feel worse.
It was just like Callum said. Alex would never commit himself to someone, and especially not to someone like her.
Okay. She’d added that last part, but clearly what happened with Rory had changed Alex’s thinking about her.
She wasn’t as powerful as he’d hoped. Her presence hadn’t helped Rory in the slightest. In fact, she’d probably done something wrong and triggered him. He’d been no different than when she first saw him in the alley.
Ainsley looked around Alex’s empty bedroom, noticing the details for the first time. The walls were wainscoted and the top half painted a dark plum. Alex’s bed was a heavy solid wood, the headboard carved with a notched diamond pattern. The sheets were a luxurious dove gray satin, and the duvet was intricately embroidered with a purple thistle motif, curling green stems, and gold accents.
Her eyes slid to the bedside table to see if he’d left her a note.
Nope. No note. What was there was a small paper card printed with a baseball schedule and a framed photograph of a beautiful dark-haired woman with bright blue eyes. The photo was just of her face and her bared shoulders, the only ornament being a Celtic-knot pendant hanging from a gold chain around her neck.
Callum had said Alex had had “many mistresses” over his lifetime; this must have been one of them. Or—shit—maybe this woman still was his mistress. He had her picture by his bed, didn’t he? She should’ve thought to ask if he was in a relationship.
There was a soft knock at the door, and her head jerked toward the sound. “Alex?”
“Good morning,” came a cautious voice. Ainsley got up and cracked the door. It was Callum, his neck pink from a fresh shave.
“Good morning.” She pushed the door open a little further and glanced down the hallway. “Where’s Alex?”
“He left.”
“Left?” Her eyes jerked back to Callum’s face. “As in, left the house?”
She’d been disappointed, though not entirely surprised, to have woken up alone. Still, he’d told her to stay. He’d promised he wouldn’t leave. The last thing she expected was for him to leave her alone in the house with his brothers, especially after what happened with Rory.
“He had some business to attend to this morning,” Callum explained. “Breakfast is just about ready. Alastair made his famous Eggs Benedict.”
Ainsley’s stomach growled at the suggestion, and she slapped a hand over it. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. “I need a few minutes first.”
“Whatever you need, just let us know.”
“Thanks.” She closed the door and went to the bathroom. Her phone was on the counter, along with her shirt, bra, panties, and skirt—all neatly folded. She couldn’t wear the same thing to the office two days in a row. She’d have to go home and— “Oh my god. Mom!”
She’d never called. Her mom must be going crazy. She snatched up her phone and opened her favorites, tapping her finger to her mother’s name.
“Hello?” answered a sleep-deprived voice.
“Mom?”
“Ainsley! Where are you?”
“Well, I—”
“I knocked on your door this morning and you weren’t there.”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve called.”
There was a long pause—deep and weighty. “You’re with him, aren’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m not with him. He’s not…here.”
More silence. “It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Mom—”
“Just call next time you won’t be home, okay?”
Ainsley closed her eyes and sighed. “Yeah. Okay, Mom. Sorry.”
She hung up and got dressed, feeling like the worst daughter, the worst queen, and the worst student ever, because she’d also missed a call from Professor Patel. The catchfly flowers hadn’t bloomed yet, but he’d wanted her help with carrying the plants up from the campus greenhouse.
When she finally stepped into the hallway, Callum was still there, waiting for her. “Good morning again.”
“Did Alex go into the office?” she asked.
“He wasn’t dressed for the office. He didn’t elaborate, but I doubt he expects you to go in after—” He cut himself off and shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable.
Another cold tingle of abandonment slid through Ainsley’s chest and down her arms, more so than when she first woke up. Callum doubted Alex expected her in, which meant Alex hadn’t said a word ab
out her when he left.
She should have never told Alex that she was a fool for falling in love with him. She’d said those dangerous words into her pillow, but with his hearing he was bound to have heard her. If she’d been in her right mind, she would have never uttered those fateful words. He’d basically told her to shut up and go to sleep after that. So stupid. So incredibly stupid.
She glanced toward the end the hallway to find Knox standing at the top of the stairs picking at the paint on his nails. He must have felt her watching, because he looked up and scrutinized her face, clearly disappointed in whatever he saw. Or perhaps in what he didn’t see.
Ainsley’s earlier concern about having done something wrong rose to the surface. A part of her had hoped it had all been in her head, but maybe they did think she was to blame for what happened with Rory.
“Why don’t you go out to the garden?” Callum suggested. “It’s a warm morning. We can bring you breakfast out there.”
“Okay,” she said, feeling numb. The garden did sound nice. She could always collect her thoughts better outdoors.
Ainsley stepped onto the kitchen patio. The herb garden was particularly aromatic, and she pinched off a sprig of thyme, crushing it in her fingers then raising it to her nose and inhaling. It brought her back to the Renaissance fair and how much fun she’d had concocting essential oils, herb-infused hand creams, and making scented note pads.
She wondered if Alex had any plant species she hadn’t used before, and within minutes she’d wandered into the center of the garden, far from the house. It didn’t take any time at all before she became engrossed in a patch of silvery green artemesia—so much so, she didn’t hear the footsteps coming up behind her.
“Trying to escape?” accused a rough and still unfamiliar voice.
She jerked and rose so quickly that she teetered.
Knox’s hand shot out and caught her before she fell over. “Jesus, jumpy much? I only meant that I didn’t expect to find you so far away from the house.”
