Mystic Realms: A Limited Edition Collection

by Nicole Morgan

  Her.

  Riley.

  Everyone knew her name. The high fae said it with disgust, the lesser fae with awe.

  He… well, he’d hoped never to say it, never to meet her, never to be anywhere near her.

  God, his insides burned. The compulsion bred into every fae to charm humans made him twitchy with need. And Kane, ruler of the Shadow Court, well knew Couper had the compulsion worse than any other fae and with consequences more deadly than the others.

  It was bad enough the thief had illegally jumped into the human realm. But anyone with half a brain would have seen that coming. And Kane had more than half a brain. He would have known where the thief would have gone, and he’d still commanded Couper to take the assignment, forcing him to return after all these years.

  Fighting the urge to send out his pheromones while waiting in that courtyard for the thief to show up had been difficult — it was the reason he’d jumped at grabbing the fae instead of waiting for a handoff that might not happen. It had been challenging to hold most of it back when clearing the subway train to catch the thief. But it had been agonizing to control himself when faced with Riley. A compulsion so strong had seized him, it had been hard to breathe and even harder to think of anything but her.

  God damned it. Kane had to have known. He had to have known everything and the only logical explanation was that this was a game. He’d thought his relationship with Kane was past games, but just like Couper’s compulsion to charm humans, game playing was harder for some fae to resist. He just hadn’t thought it was a problem for Kane.

  That, however, didn’t erase the fact that Kane knew of Couper’s compulsion and sent him into the human realm anyway when any number of other Shadow Court bounty hunters could have done the job.

  Which only brought him back to the whole mess being a game.

  And he was done with being anyone’s game piece.

  He strode to the back of the garden, his feet crunching on the white gravel lining the path. Trees, bushes, and flowers in the full bloom of a perpetual summer surrounded him, all placed for maximum effect, a shadow here, light there, this scent, that scent, creating a living tapestry to awe the senses. On any given day, he’d think it beautiful, but now it seemed just as manipulated as he felt.

  Kane knelt before a rosebush, hands cupping a bloom changing its color from one shade of red to another. His shoulder-length blond hair veiled delicate features identical to his brother’s, the King of the Golden Court, while his loose, black tracksuit hid a figure honed by combat training. And, as usual, the light radiating from his king’s aura shone like a beacon, more powerful than any other fae Couper had encountered — and this was Kane’s relaxed aura setting.

  “I’m not sure if I’ve gotten it right,” Kane said without looking up, his soft baritone belying the fierce warrior Couper trained with.

  Couper snorted, his thoughts jumping from the flower to his situation. No, Kane hadn’t gotten it right. Not this time and Couper wouldn’t be played like all the other courtiers in the Shadow Court. “Tell me you didn’t know.”

  “Know what?”

  He’d thought they were friends. “That the King of the Golden Court would put his half-human on the case.”

  Kane glanced up, hands still enclosing the flower. “Does it matter?” But the intensity in his green gaze said it did and he had known.

  Couper’s stomach churned. Sure, friendship was a fluid thing in the Shadow Court, but he’d thought he and Kane had at least an understanding. Kane knew about Couper’s compulsion and knew how he’d kill himself before succumbing again. No more dead or mentally destroyed humans because he’d gone into the human realm and lost control. “Whatever you’re planning, I won’t be a part of it.”

  “I’m not sure you have much choice in the matter.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He was pretty sure he had a choice. He could walk away from court. He’d done it before. A couple of hundred years ago, he’d turned his back on the Golden Court and hadn’t had second thoughts — even after his canines elongated and his aura darkened.

  It was a full circle, he supposed. A human had been involved in that mess, too.

  Kane whispered words of power over the rose and it changed to pale pink. “She’s already under your skin. You wouldn’t be so agitated if she weren’t.”

  “It’s just the compulsion.” But it had been awakened in full. The urge to charm Riley, to compel her to crave him, churned in his stomach and turned him on at the same time. He was hard just thinking about her, craving her with all her spunk and fire. And the woman could throw a punch. He didn’t know what was more appealing, her lean-muscled body or the enormous spirit blazing within her.

  Which wasn’t the point!

  It was wrong to use his magic to make her want him, no matter what he craved. That adoration would sour. If he didn’t sour it, some other vindictive fae would. Her need would grow desperate and it would drive her insane. Been there. Done that. Never wanted to live through that again.

  “I’m sure it is,” Kane said.

  “Sure it’s what?” What had they been talking about? He felt like he’d missed half the conversation. How did Kane expect him to function after being so close to the half-human? He knew Couper couldn’t do the job, had known all those years ago when he’d help him clean up his mess — and, if he was being honest, heal his broken heart.

  God, please. Never again.

  “I’m sure it’s just the compulsion, and I’m sure you’ll be able to deal with it.”

  Except Couper was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to deal with it. He wasn’t dealing with it now, and meeting her again would only make a bad situation worse. “I’d rather not.”

  Kane raised an eyebrow. “I don’t particularly care what you would or would rather not do. I want you after that Seal. You’re the best I’ve got.”

  “I would beg to differ with you on that.” Especially if it came down to him against the half-human — and no, he wasn’t going to let himself get personal and use her name.

  The rose cupped in Kane’s hands changed to pale blue. “Maybe there’s a reason for your attraction to humans.”

  “I’m not sure attraction is the right word.”

  “What else would you call it?”

  Insanity. Perversion. Masochism. It took everything he had to stop himself from charming Riley, even knowing how it would end. When he was young, he’d thought he be able to control it, thought taking assignments in the human realm wouldn’t be a problem, until he’d met Elizabeth. Beautiful, gentle, mesmerizing. He’d thought that somehow a human could be his other half and had fallen madly in love with her.

  But he’d been fooling himself, and he wasn’t even certain if he’d been in love with her or in love with her adoration. Perhaps at one point, she had been romantically interested in him, but he had no way of knowing. His control on his charm had slipped — he wasn’t even sure if he’d ever had control of his charm — and his power had overwhelmed her. She’d become obsessed with him. She’d stopped eating when he left her to return to the fae realm, and she’d stopped visiting friends and family. She’d stopped living. She’d grown desperate and frail, and before he could find a way to save her — if there’d even been a way to reverse his charm — another fae had soured Couper’s charm even more and driven Elizabeth to the heights of insanity.

  He’d discovered her in the middle of her garden patio, her cold, long-dead, emaciated body lying in a puddle of blood, the knife she’d used to cut her wrists cradled in her lifeless hand.

  No way was he going to get caught up with another human. Elizabeth’s love hadn’t been real, and it wouldn’t be real with anyone else. He wasn’t going to drive anyone else insane and he wasn’t going to have another fae turn his mess into a game that got her killed.

  Not that Riley would be easy to turn insane or kill by just any fae. She wouldn’t have survived as long as she had in the Golden Court if she was easily manipulated. It would p
robably take a charm as strong as Couper’s to manage that, and a part of him would love to have seen some of the Golden Court fae try.

  He could just imagine her glaring them down, daring them to try harder. The thought made him crave her more. She’d probably spent her life showing up those genetic snobs. Sexy, smart, and a challenge. What more could a man want?

  Except it wasn’t her he wanted. It was her adoration. The need to release his aura, make her head swim, make her wrap herself around him and hang on his every word, was overwhelming. He’d be her god. Her only object of worship.

  And he’d never be able to look himself in the mirror again or know if she had any kind of honest feelings toward him.

  He tore a rose from the bush beside him and squeezed the stem, hoping the thorns digging into his fingers would help clear his head.

  It didn’t.

  “Get someone else to do the job,” he growled, not caring if his tone offended his king.

  Kane met Couper’s glare with his own piercing gaze. “No.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “No.” Kane plucked the rose from Couper’s hand. “This is your assignment. I trust you’ll accomplish my goal to my satisfaction.”

  “Now you’re just being a prick.”

  “Maybe.” Kane pressed the broken stems together. Light shimmered around it then dissipated, and the bloom was once again attached to the bush. “But it’s my prerogative.”

  “I have no bond with you.” Couper didn’t want to face Riley again. He didn’t want to risk losing control. And yet, he couldn’t help yearning for that next moment when he’d see her. “You can’t force me.”

  “Why can’t you just trust that this job can only be accomplished by you?”

  “Why can’t you tell me the truth?”

  Kane’s eyes narrowed and something dark rippled through his expression. Couper couldn’t tell what, and didn’t want to find out. Unlike the Golden Court, Kane wasn’t the king of the Shadow Court because he’d been born into it. He was king because he was the most powerful of the shadow fae.

  “Finish the job,” he said, his tone chillingly even, “and I’ll tell you everything.”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m holding you to that promise.” Jeez, why had he said that? He was already walking on thin ice with Kane, demanding answers wouldn’t help release any tension between them.

  “I wouldn’t expect any less from you.” Kane’s expression softened for a second then flashed back to hard. “Now, go after the Seal.”

  As if on cue, Couper’s phone rang. Warren had magically hacked a surveillance system, found a location for the thief, and sent a text message with the address.

  “Fine.” With luck, he’d get to the thief before her.

  Please, let him get this thief and return to the Shadow Court without running into her.

  But everything within him screamed that he had to see her again. He had to.

  Chapter Six

  The address the Sibyl had given Riley was a run-down, most likely abandoned, tenement at the edge of the worst part of town. Which didn’t surprise her at all. For a temporary location, it fit all of her requirements for a place to hole up should she decide to ever become a thief and need to hide in the human realm. It offered anonymity from the neighbors — if there were any neighbors — and all the street-facing windows on the ground and second floors were boarded up. From the street app on her phone, she knew behind the building lay a maze of back alleys and didn’t doubt the surrounding buildings were in just as rough shape as this one, which only added to its appeal as a place to hide. Close access to multiple forms of transportation: buses, taxis, even the subway for easy coming and going checked the final box. It was perfect… if she was on the run… which, if she couldn’t win her freedom by completing this job, might be the only option she had left.

  The front door, an old-style carved wooden door with a piece of plywood in the center where the window would have been, opened on squealing hinges. It hadn’t been locked, but it also didn’t look like it was regularly used, either.

  Inside, only the X from a mostly burned out EXIT sign illuminated a stained and scarred lobby, and she was, in part, grateful it was after dark, and she couldn’t tell what was splattered in the corner — although whatever it was, it reeked.

  She took the stairs to the third floor, not trusting the look of the dented and stained elevator doors — she wasn’t even going to wait for the elevator to arrive to see what lay inside — and strode up to apartment 315.

  If the Sibyl hadn’t played Riley for a fool — or rather any more of a fool than she already was — the thief would be on the other side of the door.

  Here was hoping that was true. Finishing the job and winning her freedom couldn’t come fast enough.

  She prepared another relocation spell, sticking it to the collar of her duster for easy access, turned the doorknob — not surprised at all that the door was unlocked like the building’s front door — and glanced inside.

  An acrid smell hit her, making her gag before she’d even registered what or who stood beyond the crack. She’d have said the reek was urine and sweat, but while yes, that’s what it smelled like, there was also something else. A dark tinge that caught at the back of her throat and made it hard to breathe.

  If she’d had any doubts before about the thief being here, they’d vanished. The stench couldn’t be anything but fae pheromones, and it matched the thief’s appearance.

  Boy was she glad the thief had hidden his scent from her earlier — although this reek would have made it much easier to keep following him.

  A cold stone of worry formed in her gut. It wasn’t big, not yet. But if the thief had intentionally masked his scent from her it meant the thief — or most likely the thief’s employer — knew more than the average fae. Not many fae were aware that they could concentrate and mask their auras and therefore their scents, and some still couldn’t even if they did know about the trick.

  Which only meant she needed to be more cautious. She couldn’t take anything for granted, and that meant assuming this thief was more dangerous than he appeared.

  She eased the door open a little more and scanned inside. The living room, illuminated by a streetlight outside the broken windows, was empty in all respects of the word. No thief, no furniture, no empty pizza boxes, no debris from the glassless windows. Nothing. The kitchen, to her left, was the same, not even doors on the empty cupboards above the counters.

  Except something didn’t feel right.

  And it wasn’t the God-awful stench that filled the place and made her want to vomit then shower for the rest of the week.

  No, this was something else, something she couldn’t quite place.

  As much as other fae ridiculed her for her all-too-human intuition, it had saved her life more times than she cared to count. If she were a real fae, she’d say that the ripples in the energy of the universe that constantly touched the empty part of her soul had changed, and she might, if someone had bothered to give her an education about it, have been able to get specific about how those ripples had changed. But all she had, really, was a gut feeling, and that was too visceral, too base — and often too right — for most fae. That, however, was what was screaming at her now, and she knew ignoring it made her more of a fool than the fool she’d been with the Sibyl.

  She slid her long dagger from her hip sheath and regretted that the fae in her couldn’t bring herself to hold a gun long enough to learn how to use it. Of all the genetic fae quirks she could have done without, that one topped her list.

  Her senses straining, listening, seeing, sensing — although desperately trying not to smell — for whatever danger made her skin crawl, she slunk down the hall toward the bedroom and the only room she’d hadn’t looked in yet.

  At a glance, she knew it was as empty as the rest of the apartment.

  Damn. Maybe she’d been wrong, maybe after her encounter with Mr. Sexy and her embarr
assing moment of… sharing with the Sibyl, her instincts were off… somehow. She was just too determined to win her freedom. That was it. She was sensing danger where danger didn’t exist because she knew her king was lying to her. He—

  The linen closet door behind her creaked.

  Her heart skipped a beat. Nope. Her instincts had been right.

  She spun to face her assailant. But he was faster than her, and she only caught a glimpse of him before he — and he had to be a he from his tall, bulky stature — grabbed her shoulder. He jerked her around before she could fully turn and see him, and shoved her face-first against the bedroom’s doorframe. Her forehead smashed against the metal frame, and her vision blackened then cleared.

  She jammed her elbow back, hit a rock-hard torso, but managed to draw a grunt and make him loosen his grip. She whirled around to face him, slashing at him with her dagger at the same time and forcing him back. The blade caught his shirtsleeve and flesh and sliced a long gash in his arm before she realized it was Mr. Sexy.

  Surprise, that she shouldn’t have had because she knew he was after the thief as well, flashed through her, then burst into a smoldering fire that sank low within her. She ground her teeth against the sensation. She wasn’t supposed to be surprised or turned on by him. She was supposed to be pissed that he threatened her one chance at freedom.

  He glanced at the blood oozing from his forearm and splattering on the floor.

  “That hurt,” he said, his voice rich and dark and making her insides squirm with desire.

  His gaze raised to hers and her breath stalled in her chest. For a second, she forgot how to breathe, to think, to do anything. There was only him and a dangerous electricity searing through her body.

  She wanted him, irrationally, desperately, like she’d never desired anyone else before.

  But God damn it, she wanted lots of things she couldn’t have. Like her freedom.

  Except her freedom was on the table right now. All she had to do was get the thief before he did.

  He raised a dark eyebrow, his expression cocky, challenging, and light radiated around his arm, growing in intensity until she had to squint to keep her eyes on him. As she watched, the wound on his arm sealed itself shut, and his expression turned wicked.