by Ann Gimpel
“Hear that?” Perrikus extended both hands her way. “She will come with me willingly. You all heard her.”
“She dinna say she would.” Arawn’s voice cracked like a whip. “She merely inquired further regarding the terms of the bargain ye propose.”
Aislinn swallowed. It was a fine point, but an important one. Once she gave her word, no one—neither Celt nor dragon—could save her.
“Come, beautiful one.” Perrikus beckoned and drove lust her way until the only thing filling her mind was the outline of his cock straining beneath its leather covering. “I’ve dropped my wards just for you.”
If Gwydion and Bran hadn’t been holding her, Aislinn would have walked right into Perrikus’s arms. Her magic, even augmented with Daniel’s and Timothy’s, wasn’t strong enough to resist the dark god’s pull. The rational part of her brain shut down; all she could think about was opening her legs to the magnificence jutting from between his thighs. Wing beats rustled. They interrupted her concentration on the vision of masculine perfection standing twenty feet away, so she didn’t pay much attention.
“What the fuck?” Perrikus shouted.
The tractor beam that had her in its sights shattered. With her mind her own again, Aislinn watched Perrikus batting at something.
Bella.
The bird had come out of nowhere and drove her sharp beak into everything vital she could reach. So far, blood streaked down the dark god’s neck and from an eye socket. Aislinn panted, her mouth dry and bitter as ashes. Perrikus had almost had her and it hadn’t taken any effort at all. None. He’d snapped his fingers, and she’d made cow eyes at him and been willing to do anything he wanted.
Goddammit. I am not that weak.
Or maybe I am. Even the thought about how wonderful it would be to toss her freedom on the slag heap for Fionn had been planted.
By Perrikus.
Dewi jumped into the breach before Perrikus could ward himself again and scorched him with fire. Nidhogg joined suit. The air around the dark god developed a fiery hue.
“Hurry,” Aislinn screamed. “He’s making a portal to leave.”
The words had no sooner rolled off her lips, when the space where he’d been standing held nothing but smoky air.
“You can let go of me now.” She jerked free of the Celts and humans and stomped to where she could see the Lemurians. They milled about, rudderless, and she blew out a disgusted breath. Without leadership, it would take time for the reptilian hive mind to figure out what to do next.
“Strike,” she called over one shoulder. “There will never be a better time.” Rune would follow her. So would Bella with her bloody beak, who clearly felt quite full of herself. Without waiting to see if she’d have further backup, Aislinn raised her hands, called power, and loped toward the nearest Lemurian. He exploded into bits, which told her everything she needed to know. Perrikus had been somewhere behind the scenes, masterminding everything including the Lemurians’ shielding.
Above her, dragon wings cut through the air. Fire and magic gushed from Nidhogg, Dewi, and the other three, mowing through Lemurians as if they welcomed immolation. Humans fanned into the field, wielding death as power streamed from them. Aislinn embraced the pure, cold fury pouring through her. It cleansed her of the taint left from Perrikus and his sick, mesmerizing sexuality. She picked Lemurians randomly, pretended each was Metae, the Lemurian magelord who’d conscripted her into the Lemurian ranks. She’d fought for them for two years, believing they were on the same side, allied against the dark. Discovering the Old Ones had been in league with the dark gods the whole time still rankled, as did the knowledge she’d been used.
I sold myself to them in exchange for my life. Bitterness pooled in her gut, and she killed another Lemurian. The air around her became charged with a surfeit of magic. It thickened until she struggled to breathe.
“They’re leaving,” Rune said.
“Smart of them,” Bella cawed from her perch on what was left of a dead body.
They can’t leave. I’m not done. Fury, disgust, and disbelief at how close she’d come to giving in, shook Aislinn to her core. The air cleared, and she stood in the midst of stacks of smoking, stinking corpses. Arawn trotted to her side.
“Into the house with ye, lass. A good bath and some mead are in order.”
Aislinn turned away, ashamed. “I don’t deserve anything. You don’t know how—”
“Aye, but I do.” He hooked a hand beneath her arm. “Ye and the animals will come inside now.” Gwydion joined them, exchanging glances with the god of the dead.
“Make certain the humans have whatever help they need.” She met Gwydion’s troubled gaze.
“Aye, lass. They fought bravely and helped control the unmaking spell we cast. Ye have my word. We shall honor their dead and see they have whatever healing and assistance they need. Into the house.” He repeated Arawn’s command.
Aislinn recognized compulsion beneath his words, but she was too heartsick and weary to fight it.
* * * *
Fionn rested his back against a withered pine tree about fifty yards from the water on a white sand beach. Aello sat cross-legged, facing him. Her bare breasts, milk-white with strawberry nipples, gleamed in sunlight, and her blond hair had been brushed until it gleamed with coppery highlights. He reached for his power for the umpteenth time, but it skittered just beyond his reach. Jaw clenched, he fought desire that clawed at him. Aello’s scent, musky with sandalwood undernotes, wafted through the air, making things that much worse. Scents carried memories, and hers was so unique, he’d never forgotten it.
“You want me,” she purred. “Even if the front of your pants wasn’t belled out like a kite, I smell your lust.”
“Wanting and acting on it are two different things,” he growled. “Besides, ye’re forcing my hand with magic, yet ye stripped me of my own so I canna protect myself. I love another, and I willna break my vows to her.”
“What vows? You never married her.”
“Vows I made with my heart and soul.”
Aello whistled long and low. “Principles. Since when have you ever bothered with them? I recall when you fucked anything female that twitched her twat your way.” She cupped her breasts in her hands and twirled the nipples into peaks. “We had a lot of fun, you and me. I’m hurt you forgot about me. Except you didn’t, not really.”
Fionn glanced away. Watching her touch herself did dangerous things to his cock, which had been hard ever since she’d plunked them on this remote stretch of beach and bombarded him with magic designed to break him down and lure him into her bed. He assumed they were on one of the Strophades Islands, but wasn’t certain since he couldn’t use his magic to check.
“Be reasonable,” he sputtered. “Aye, we had a bit of fun, but ’tis been hundreds of years. Surely ye’ve found others to satisfy your fancy.”
“Aye,” she aped his brogue, “but none like you.” She rose slowly, balancing on her bird hindquarters, spread her wings, and fluttered to his side, not stopping until she was pressed full length against him. Her breasts flattened against his chest, and she ran her tongue down his neck.
He curled his hands into fists hard enough for his nails to cut into his palms. He wanted to punch her, but restrained himself. If he injured Aello, the others would flay him alive. Even if they weren’t here now, they’d find him and make his life—and probably Aislinn’s—hell.
“I’m having a hard time believing you pined after me all this time and finally hunted me down.” Fionn pushed her away from him and squatted, still with his back against the tree. Maybe his bent knees would provide a barrier to keep her away from his crotch. His heart thudded against his ribs, and his cock was on fire. “Even without power at my disposal, I sense something deeper afoot.”
“Do you now?” Her silver eyes gleamed conspiratorially, and he remembered she was almost as hopeless in the gossip department as Dewi.
The air off to the side of them took on an incandescent shine
, and Celaeno stepped through a faint portal, accompanied by Ocypete. Between them, they dragged Aello toward the gateway. “What?” she sputtered, and folded her wings more firmly across her back.
“Come with us,” Celaeno said. “Your pet isn’t going anywhere.” She shot a saccharine smile at Fionn, who kept a poker face. For a moment, it looked as if Aello would argue, but then she joined her sisters without a backward glance.
Breath hissed through Fionn’s clenched teeth once he realized he was alone. He pushed upright and arranged his cock so it wasn’t bent double, straining against his pants. Simply having her gone was enough to take the edge off his unnatural sexual hunger. It had taken an enormous amount of self-discipline to not sweep her into his arms and bury himself inside her. Half a snort blew past his lips. He remembered her all right. Some of the weirdest, most inventive sex of his long life had been with the Harpy. Her unusual anatomy had been responsible for part of it, but the larger share had come from her insatiable nature. Usually, he could outlast any woman, but she’d hounded him until he begged for a respite, for mercy.
He pushed himself into a lope and traveled down the beach, meaning to go as far as he could. As he ran, his mind cleared. It hadn’t been coincidence the other Harpies showed up the second he’d begun grilling Aello for information. Surely they must know as well as he did how incapable she was of holding secrets.
There’s something they doona wish me to find out.
Another thought surfaced. The Aello he remembered would have fought her sisters tooth and nail if they’d ordered her away from something she wanted. That she left with nary a protest spoke volumes. She’d been toying with him, but why? To what end?
Frustrated, he quickened his pace and tried to reach his power again. If he had even a small amount, he could teleport out of here. This time, without Aello sitting watchdog over him, he got closer to his segregated magic. Maybe if he focused with everything he had…
Fionn headed for a thick grove of olive trees atop a nearby hill. Olive trees were sacred. They’d help concentrate his efforts. In the depths of his being, he suspected Aello and her sisters were part of a plot to separate him from Aislinn. If that were true, the only ones who could be behind it were the dark gods. They’d wanted Aislinn forever because of her magical strength and planned to use her as a broodmare.
Impotent rage hammered him, and his gut twisted into a burning hornet’s nest. If something happened to Aislinn because he wasn’t there to protect her…
Have a spot of faith. Gwydion, Bran and Arawn will care for her. Dewi and Nidhogg too, right along with Rune. She has plenty of guardians.
Aye, but she’s a stubborn lassie. She may well give them the slip and try to come after me, which might spell disaster. She doesna understand how vulnerable she is alone.
Fionn shut his eyes for a moment. His thoughts—accurate and dead on the money—sliced right through him and made his heart ache with worry. Aislinn was just as likely to run headlong into danger as she was to heed it. Once she got her Irish dander up, she stopped thinking. She’d told him she operated that way because if she thought too hard, or too deep, it would immobilize her.
“The next time I see Aello,” he muttered, “unless I get verra lucky and escape, I’ll ask after Perrikus, D’Chel, and Adva. She willna have to say a thing. I’ll see truth reflected in her eyes.”
Chapter Eight
Aislinn let herself float in the deep bathtub in Fionn’s suite of rooms on the third floor of the manor house. She’d fallen on her face and slept for a few hours first. It hadn’t been enough because her head ached and her eyes were stinging and gritty, but worry about Fionn drove her from their bed. She’d filled the tub nearly to the top, and then summoned magic to warm the water, a trick she learned from Fionn.
Rune curled on the cream-colored Italian marble floor near the door, and Bella perched on the sink, cleaning blood from her dark feathers.
“You were very brave,” Rune told the bird.
Bella preened beneath his praise. “Anyone would have done the same thing,” she said. “After all, he dropped his warding.”
“Anyone whose bond human hadn’t ordered them not to approach him,” Rune snarled.
“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Aislinn sputtered. “I’m sorry already. Give it a rest.”
Rune stood and padded to the edge of the tub. “What do we do next?”
Good question. “I have no idea what everyone else’s priorities will be, but I’m going after Fionn.” She pulled the drain plug and got to her feet with water sluicing down her body. Climbing the two steps at the end of the sunken tub, she snatched a towel and wrapped it around herself. Before her wolf could make another snarky comment, she eyed him. “You’re coming with me. Bella too, if she wants.”
“Of course, I want.” The bird clacked her beak shut. “Fionn is my bonded one.”
Aislinn wrapped her head in another towel, chucked the damp one she’d used to dry off over a rack, and strode into the bedroom where she rummaged through a dresser she’d claimed for her things. Nothing was clean, but she dragged on dark, serviceable pants, a black wool shirt, and a heavy, plaid, woolen jacket. The towel slipped off her wet hair, so she picked it up off the floor and tossed it over a chair. Aislinn glanced at her boots and groaned. Each one was split up one side, but they were all she had. If she couldn’t come up with replacements, and damned soon, she’d be effectively barefoot. Not good for fighting.
Before she finished donning thick, woolen socks and lacing her boots, a heavy fist landed on the other side of her door. She sent magic outward and recognized Gwydion’s energy. Rune trotted to the door and nudged the deadbolt with his nose until it snicked open.
“Thanks, laddie.” Gwydion, garbed in a dark blue robe sashed with red, ambled into her room.
“I suppose I should thank you for knocking”—Aislinn narrowed her eyes—“but I’m not going to.”
“There’s food made in the kitchen.” He mock bowed. “Consider this your personal invitation to breakfast.”
“Awesome, since I missed dinner. And yesterday’s lunch, now that I think about it.” She laid a hand over her concave belly and realized she was starving. Finished with her boots, she got to her feet. “You saved me the time to find you. Once I’ve eaten, I’m going after Fionn.” Aislinn tipped her chin defiantly, daring him to contradict her.
“Oh ye are, are ye?” One corner of Gwydion’s mouth twisted into half a wry smile. “Were ye planning to check in with one of us first?”
Aislinn rolled her eyes. “Of course. I’m not that foolhardy.” She walked past Gwydion into the hall and toward a staircase, figuring he and the animals would follow. It took time to wend her way down to the main floor of Fionn’s manor house and through the great room furnished with wall hangings, Oriental rugs, paintings, and sculptures that museums would have fought over. At first, she’d been overawed by the richness and delicacy of crystal figurines and fine metal carvings. Today, she scarcely glanced at anything. Without Fionn, none of it was worth squat.
Another staircase at the far side of the great room led down into the kitchens. Fionn only used the large central room and pantry, but smaller rooms like the buttery lined both sides of it. She supposed it helped that he’d lived in a time without electricity and other modern contrivances because it made it easier to revert to using magic to cook.
“Where are the baby dragons?” she asked and wandered over to the stove to see what was in a large pot. Oatmeal plus nuts and dried fruit. She scooped a generous serving of the gelatinous mixture into a bowl, squirted honey over it, and made her way to the table.
“Outside with Dewi and Nidhogg and the other four adults,” Bran replied.
“Och, lassie, and ye missed a hell of a fight.” Arawn snorted.
“Let me guess,” Aislinn said between bites. “Dewi and Nidhogg had it out over the Minotaur.”
“I thought he was going to kill her.” Gwydion shook his head and helped himself to the cereal mi
xture.
“Yeah. I heard some of it before I fell asleep, mostly Dewi bellowing for me to attend her, but I decided it would be a bad idea. I like Nidhogg, and if I’d shown up, I’d have been caught dead in the middle.”
“Wise lass.” Arawn nodded approvingly. “Would ye like coffee or tea?”
“Coffee’s my first choice.”
The god of the dead rose and poured fragrant, dark liquid from a silver carafe, placing the cup in front of her.
“Thanks.” Aislinn smiled. “I don’t suppose there’s any milk.”
“Nay, lassie. A cow or goat dinna wander into the yard during the night.” Arawn returned to his chair. “Ye’re damned lucky there’re still coffee beans. One of us will need to teleport to South America before too much longer.”
“Are the humans doing all right?” she asked.
Bran nodded. “Most of them are resting. We built pyres for their dead and saw everyone had food in their bellies.” A sheepish look danced across his face. “’Tis the least we can do for our new allies.”
“They’re excellent fighters,” Arawn said. “We will make certain to mention that at the next Celtic council gathering.”
“I don’t suppose an apology is in the cards?” Aislinn stared at the god of the dead.
“Probably not. We can be a stiff-necked bunch, and prejudice is a dicey thing, lass. No one has any control over their past actions.” He winked. “Mayhap ’twould be better for all of us to look forward. We willna run out of foes anytime soon.”
She recognized wisdom in his words and focused on her breakfast, eating mindlessly. Her spoon hit the bottom of the bowl, and she got up to get a second helping. “Have any of you heard from Fionn?” She kept her words casual, but hope flared hot within her—and died at the expressions on their faces.
