“Drag me away to mate? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Just let me do the talking. I know you’ll hate it, but in the fae world, these matters are only handled by men. They respect physical strength.” The frigid wind rippled his dark hair.
“Can we just get this over with? It’s no wonder Zee got the hell out of the fae world.”
Kester pressed the buzzer. Nothing sounded, but after a few moments, the door cracked open. A young man with long, silver hair peered out, the room behind him obscured in shadows.
“Your names,” he prompted. His fingernails were filed into points and painted white.
“We’re on the list under Peele,” said Kester, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Guests of Luis.”
The man’s eyes flicked to Ursula’s red hair, and she tossed it over her shoulder for emphasis.
“Of course.” He shut the door, and they waited. At least a minute passed as Ursula drummed her fingers against her thighs, trying to force images of Emerazel out of her mind. With Zee’s soul missing, there hadn’t been time to think about her own fate yet. But how long could Kester keep the fire goddess in the dark about her failure tonight?
Kester shot her a sharp look. “Relax. You look like you’re on a suicide mission.”
“We are on suicide mission,” she snapped.
At last, the man reopened the door and beckoned them into a high-ceilinged hall, draped on one end with lush green curtains. The walls were bare, seemingly made of tree bark, and dimly lit with honeyed light. At first she thought the light came from candles, but when her eyes adjusted she saw miniature luminescent orbs hanging in the air above them.
The fae’s eyes matched his silver hair; she hadn’t once seen him blink. It was deeply unnerving. “Welcome to Oberon’s.” Halfheartedly, he held out a hand. “May I take your coat?”
Ursula pulled off her jacket and handed it over, but the fae simply yelled, “Mavelle!”
A raven-haired female in a transparent red gown hurried through the curtains, grabbing Ursula’s fur jacket before disappearing again.
I guess that’s the female submission thing. God, she was going to hate this place.
The male fae beckoned them toward the curtains. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled them aside, revealing an enormous pair of wooden doors, ornately carved with oak leaves. A large stag’s antler was affixed to each door as a sort of handle. The doors were inscribed with gold letters that seemed to twist and move like living creatures—just like the walls in the locked room she’d broken into.
Without a word, the fae grasped the antlers, pulling open the doors.
Ursula sucked in a breath, gaping at the enormous hall. They walked forward onto a small balcony, and she peered down at a stairwell that curved to a dance floor below. Fae danced and drank over a floor carpeted with wildflowers and grass.
Still, her eye was drawn upward. Great columns of wood, as thick and sturdy as the trunks of redwood trees, supported a ceiling so far above them it disappeared into darkness. Glowing orbs lit the hall, some as small as insects, others as large as horses, swirling and dancing in the air above their heads like sea creatures buffeted by an unseen tide.
“How does this place exist?” Ursula breathed.
Kester slipped a hand around her waist. “Magic,” he whispered.
She glanced down at the crowd, at the fae dressed in stunning styles she’d never seen before—flowing silks of sapphire, plum, and fern green; limbs ensconced in curling gold jewelry. One woman sported hair that pulsated blue and green like the lights of a deep-sea fish. Another, dressed only in gossamer film, spun in a circle, sparks of magic streaming from the tips of her fingers like summer fireworks. Around the edges of the hall, leather clad men sat in wooden chairs, watching beautiful women dance in nothing but a few strategically placed seashells and flowers. Deep, resonant music filled the air, vibrating through Ursula’s body, and she inhaled the rich scent of moss and lilacs.
Flipping heck. She hadn’t even drunk the alcohol, and she was already getting seduced by the atmosphere.
“Stay focused.” Kester grabbed her hand, leading her down the stairs. “Abrax will be skulking somewhere near the king.”
As she stepped onto the dance floor, fae brushed against her. They moved effortlessly, their bodies swaying in perfect rhythm to the beat that trembled over her skin. There was a charge—an energy—in the air; it intoxicated her, and she had to remind herself why she was here. I’m here for Zee.
Kester slid his fingers down her arm, leaving a trail of tingles, and grabbed her hand. “Scan the crowd, but he’ll probably be in the king’s inner circle. He doesn’t trifle with commoners.”
“What are you going to do when we find him?”
His jaw suddenly tightened, and a hint of violence glinted in his green eyes. “I’m going to try not to rip him limb from limb, but I make no promises.” The terrifying look on his face was enough to shove the lingering waves of pleasure to the back of Ursula’s skull, and she let him lead her between the dancers.
They threaded their way through the sea of writhing fae as she scanned for Abrax. They moved deeper into the hall, and the men’s clothing changed, becoming more formal—stiff golden brocades and ruffled lace collars. The women, of course, still wore transparent gowns and scraps of lace. As Ursula watched the ladies dance, it was hard not to let her own hips sway, or feel a thrill at Kester’s body brushing against hers.
She leaned into him, whispering. “What’s with the Elizabethan ruffs?”
“These fae are part of King Oberon’s court.”
Just as she was going to ask what the king looked like, she glimpsed something between the dancers: surrounded by armed males dressed in golden armor, a tall fae sat enthroned on a low wooden dais. His pale hair shone in the light, his body radiating a shimmering golden glow.
Ursula gaped. “Is that the king?”
Kester stepped in front of her. “Don’t look him in the eye yet.”
“What’s the matter?”
“You’re new here. And you stand out. If we want to get into his inner circle, we want him to notice you, but not claim you.” He slipped one arm around her back, touching her cheek with his other hand. “I need them to know you’re here with me.”
With Kester standing so close, it was hard not to breathe in his delicious loamy aroma, and she wanted to wrap her arms around him. The music trembled over her skin in rushes of pleasure. Part of her mind screamed that Kester had an arrogance problem, that she hated guys like him, that she needed to stay focused on… something. Only she couldn’t remember what. Her gaze landed on a beautiful blond fae dressed in white lace lingerie, dancing for one of the fae males. It would be so great if I could just let go…
The slow, sensual beat reverberated through the hall, hypnotizing her, and her gaze flicked to Kester’s stunning mouth. She glanced up at him, licking her lips. God, he was gorgeous, and the carnal glint in his eye was driving her crazy. Her pulse raced.
The music rippled over her body, sending thrills through her as the beat slowed down. With the rhythm pulsing, Ursula let her hips sway against him. She slipped her arms over his shoulders, pressing her body against his solid muscle. Delicious warmth radiated through his clothes.
Slowly, he leaned down, tracing his soft lips over her throat, his thumb lazily stroking her back.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, her pulse racing faster.
“Showing them you’re taken,” he murmured into her neck. He slid his fingers into her hair and gripped it tight, pulling back her head, then grazed his fangs along her throat. A hot thrill rushed through her belly, all rational thought leaving her mind. Was there some reason they’d come here?
High above them, magical orbs flashed like strobe lights and the bass reverberated through her very core.
“The king’s watching,” Kester whispered, his breath warming the shell of her ear. “I’ll just make sure he understands he can’t claim you.”
/> Ursula ran her hand down his strong back, and his eyes took on a glazed look. He leaned closer, pressing his warm mouth against hers. The touch of his soft lips sent fire racing through her veins, and she arched into him, her lips parting. His tongue brushed hers, and she wanted to rip off his clothes and run her hands all over his golden skin. This was why they’d come here, right? Heat coursed through her; she wanted him to pull her into a corner and—
From behind, a hand gripped her shoulder, ripping her out of the kiss. With a tremendous effort, she pulled away from Kester, and turned to see two guards in golden armor, their blond hair and pale blue eyes exactly like Zee’s. Ursula’s stomach tightened, and she forced herself to move away from Kester as she surveyed the men. That kiss had completely knocked her off her feet, and she could hardly think straight. Focus, Ursula. This is life or death. The men’s breastplates were finely-tooled, with silver stags around an oak leaf—but her gaze darted straight to the sheathed swords, encrusted with glittering pearls. Always good to know where the weapons are.
One of the guards spoke. “Oberon has requested an audience.”
“We would be honored to speak to the king,” said Kester.
The guards pivoted, flanking them. As they were escorted to the dais, the fae stopped dancing, and hundreds of eyes followed them. Ursula swallowed hard as the guards led them right up to the edge of the dais, where the king stood, flanked by soldiers.
Chapter 30
Up close, Oberon looked like four hundred pounds of pure muscle. His outfit was formal—regal, even: a yellow robe tied at his waist with a golden belt and a pair of silver pauldrons to protect his shoulders. He held a halberd with a copper-plated point in the shape of stag’s antler, and he stared at them with a grim expression. A sword lay strapped across his back. It was a hall of pleasure, but he’d obviously come ready for a fight.
“What brings you to my hall with this beautiful female, Headsman?” His voice was melodious and soft, but he still managed to spit the last word like he’d been fed a piece of spoiled meat. When he spoke, long pointed teeth shone in the amber lights.
“We simply wanted to partake in the festivities.” Kester’s eyes scanned the room, probably looking for Abrax.
Were they getting close to that point where they’d have to fight their way out? Ursula eyed one of the guard’s swords. She could draw it from its sheath with a quick yank, and slice through two of them. Unfortunately, she had no idea how to leave the hall, especially with all the guards that would descend upon her. Also, she had no idea what F.U. had been up to in her spare time, but New Ursula didn’t quite feel like a murderer. Better to wait and see how things played out, before jumping right in with the stabbing.
“Here for pleasure?” Oberon’s gaze raked her up and down, and she had the disconcerting feeling that he could see right through her gown. “She’s a beauty. But she belongs to you?” His voice dripped with disappointment.
“She does.”
The king sniffed the air, his lip curling. “One of Emerazel’s,” he hissed. “She must be hard to tame. I like that.”
Gross. Ursula felt the fire rising in her chest.
“I’m still working on taming her.” Kester gave a low bow, and she resisted elbowing him in the gut.
Oberon let out a snarl. “Since I can’t have her, I would like to watch you mate with her.”
Ursula’s jaw dropped open. What?
Kester smiled nonchalantly, as if this were a completely reasonable suggestion. “Of course. But she’s a bit shy. We must go somewhere with a smaller crowd.”
Her heart raced. That wasn’t what he meant by claiming, was it? Obviously, Kester was hot, but she wasn’t about to put on a public show.
“Fine,” said Oberon. “I’ll take you to my exclusive suite.”
Kester nodded. “She won’t disappoint.”
Ursula bit down a thousand angry retorts. What. The. Fuck. She tried not to scowl, reminding herself that they were here for Zee, and that surely Kester had some plan in mind that didn’t involve shagging her in front of the king. Then again, it wasn’t like Kester was open about his plans.
One of the guards beckoned them forward, and Kester led her onto the dais, pulling her close. Oberon stamped the butt of the halberd on the wood. With a slight jerk, the whole platform began to rise slowly into the air, until they were thirty feet off the ground.
Kester leaned into her, whispering, “Don’t worry.”
The dais continued to rise, until they were a hundred feet in the air, the crowd below growing smaller. She tried not to give in to the vertigo, or the disorientation of realizing that the columns were actually enormous tree roots. Are we in a giant tree? Dizzy, she stepped back from the edge.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Oberon intoned from behind her. “I’ve ruled these fae since we first came from the heavens, and I never grow tired of the view.”
She turned, surveying the king. His eyes were clear and his skin unlined. If she’d been asked, Ursula would have guessed he was no older than forty, though with his strange coloring and enormous size, he looked distinctly otherworldly. She wasn’t supposed to speak, and this man was creepy enough that she was actually pleased with that particular demand. So she just widened her eyes, trying to look as innocent and stupid as possible.
He moved closer to her, bending over her neck and taking a long sniff. “Ahh. I never get tired of that, either. The scent of a female ready to mate.”
Revulsion rose in Ursula’s throat. Get me out of here. I’ll take Emerazel’s hellfire over this guy.
The king continued on his monologue. “I was born before the sundering, before the gods were exiled from the heavens, and yet I still thrill at the sight of a young beauty like you.” He laced his fingers together. “Out of curiosity, has the Headsman told you how old he is?”
“Three hundred ninety-four,” said Kester from her side.
Ursula turned, gaping at him. He’s three hundred and ninety-four years old? That meant he’d been born in the 1620s, back when people thought diseases were caused by an imbalance of the humors, and went to public executions for fun. Did that mean she would have to reap souls for four hundred years to pay off her debt to Emerazel? A spark of anger ignited. Kester had been remarkably silent on that point—and what was his plan for this mating thing? It wasn’t like she really trusted him.
She shuddered. Honestly, she wouldn’t make it four hundred years. Not if she continued to fail at reaping souls.
Fire roiled in her blood, and she tried to push her panicked thoughts out of her mind. She needed to focus on getting Zee and Hugo’s souls back, and then getting the fuck out.
The dais slowed, pulling up at a wooden balcony that jutted from a tree root.
“Welcome to my private apartment,” said Oberon. “Some of my closest friends are here.”
A lick of hope sparked. Does that include Abrax?
The platform slid neatly against the balcony, and the king’s guards ushered them forward into another, smaller hall, its ceiling a network of flowering vines. In the center, vibrantly dressed guests stood around a banquet table, and others lingered around a bar carved from oak, sipping jewel-colored cocktails.
As Oberon led them into the hall, every one of the guests turned to stare at Ursula and Kester. Kester gave a cursory bow, but his eyes never stopped scanning, searching for Abrax.
The crowd parted for Oberon as he walked to the banquet table, laden with a suckling pig and fruit. With a low growl, the king pushed the food off the table. Rage burned in Ursula’s chest. Is he clearing space for us to mate? Am I supposed to replace the suckling pig? She glanced around the room, searching desperately for Abrax, but she couldn’t find the bastard.
Oberon turned, his lips curled back from his sharp teeth. His footsteps echoed through the room as he approached Ursula, and her stomach tightened. He stopped just inches from her, and warm light glinted off his rings as he reached up to touch her cheek.
Okay, this has
gone on for long enough.
“Don’t touch my mate,” said Kester, his voice booming.
“I can see the fire in her eyes,” the king snarled, touching her neck. “I want to tame—”
Dropping her wyrm-skin purse, Ursula snatched his hand, molten hellfire inflaming her veins. She was an ancient fury, come to bathe the world in fire. “I’m not fucking around anymore,” she shouted. “Give me Abrax or I will burn this place to the ground.”
The king’s face contorted in agony; smoke curled from his hand. The guards drew their weapons, but Kester was already chanting in Angelic. As he spoke, his words froze the king and his guards. They grimaced with agony, the sound of crunching bones and sinews filled the room as fae bodies twisted, breaking. The king gagged, his eyes bulging.
So that’s why he got the creepy nickname.
While Kester crippled Oberon with his magic, she let go of the king’s arms, stealing a sword from one of the guards. It felt glorious in her hands, light and swift. “Where is Abrax?” she demanded—louder, so the whole crowd could hear.
Frantically, her eyes scanned the room for any signs of him by the back of the room, but it wasn’t until she turned to look back at Kester that she saw the incubus.
Abrax stood right behind Kester, tendrils of inky midnight magic curling off him like smoke.
“Kester!” she shouted.
But it was too late. In a blur of shadowy motion, Abrax snapped Kester’s neck. The crack of his spine echoed off the ceiling, and horror blared through Ursula’s skull.
Chapter 31
As Kester’s limp body crashed to the floor, Ursula lifted her sword. His spell no longer held the fae in thrall, and they snarled, eyes flashing at her. She gripped the sword, raw panic tearing her mind apart. Kester. Kester is dead. She tried to shove the horror deep into her mental vault. She couldn’t let fear overcome her now, not when a pack of furious fae surrounded her, baying for her blood.
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