Unsidhe Assassin (Darkly Mine Season 1)

by Leona Windwalker

  “I’m a dryad,” Tree Guy calls out after us.

  Huh. I thought those were all svelte females who had to remain in the tree they lived in. I guess I can’t rely on what I can recall from human stories. Damn.

  6

  Willow

  I released his mouth once we were both on the other side of my closed front door. I don’t need any gossip spreading about saying I can’t control my human. There are other fae in the building who would use that to undermine my already precarious position at Court. And if the rumor reached the Queen’s ears, I’d find myself summoned to Court to face her with the Ghost in tow before we were ready. Oh, she’d love that. She really would. It’s not going to happen if I can help it, though.

  “Will you stop doing that?” he said. His voice was low and laced with enough venom that if he were a fae, I’d expect to see ichor dripping from his fangs. But he’s not a fae, and there’s no naga in his bloodline as far as I can tell, so it’s all just attitude.

  “I did it to save both of our hides,” I informed him. The quicker he learned that the rules can mean life, death, and fates worse than that, the better.

  “The rules?” he asked, his tone still scathing.

  I nodded. “Everything with the fae is about the rules, and the rules dictate how the game is played.”

  “Game? You think all this is a game?” he narrowed his eyes at me.

  “It’s the way of the Unsidhe,” I said tiredly. “Everyone jockeys for the top positions within the Court or to put themselves where they are the favored of those who are. If I’d let you speak or look like you weren’t one hundred percent obedient, rumors would start flying that Willow, nephew to the Queen, is weak. So weak that he let a human he caught disrespect him. I’d get an even bigger target on my back as less politically advantaged fae begin making moves. So I had to show I was in control.”

  Which I wouldn’t have had to if he’d been cooperative, but I let that hang in the air unsaid.

  He ran his hand over his face. “Well, shit. Okay. My not jumping when you said to and not talking to you like the nobility you are could have made things messier than they are. I get that, I really do. That would make my job for you harder, as well, but you know, you could have taken the time to explain things a bit better first. While walking to get that flying carriage cab thing with the flying bugs, you could have said, “I’m the nephew of the Queen, and everyone is a potential enemy. I need you to act like a loyal servant until we reach my home.”

  I could have, I suppose. But why should I have to? I had been polite enough. Not to mention that he still had the misfortune of thinking that we were somehow equals in this partnership, that the loyal servant thing would be an act.

  I walked out of the foyer and into my living room, where stuffed armchairs covered in buttery soft leather looked out the picture windows at the city landscape below. I gestured to a seat, taking the other one. He eyed the chair warily as if fearing a trap. Good, he was learning. He still wasn’t quite getting it, though. He was mine, and I am his master. He’d signed himself away. My bringing him here, though, now that requires he sign himself over to me for eternity. Instead of indentured servitude with an end date, he would be one hundred percent mine until I died. That’s because I’ve already decided to tie his life span to mine. He won’t die unless I do, then. They could kill him and he’d simply resurrect unless they took his head. I’d never have to hire another assassin again. My status would elevate, making my position more secure as the knowledge that I had a private assassin spread. Not even the Queen had one as her preferred assassin from the guild had turned down her offer, and she never tried to make a bargain with another.

  He sat down, not sparing so much as a glance at the pot of ivy on the table next to him.

  “The thing is,” I said, “I don’t just need you to act like a loyal servant. I need you to be one.” I held my hand up as he leaned forward, a retort already on those luscious lips. Those lips will feel great around my cock, his stubble brushing deliciously against my thighs as he takes me deep. I made a gesture with the fingers of my other hand and the ivy shot out, the vines suddenly long and thick. They wrapped around him, tying him to the chair.

  “What the ever-loving fuck?” he shouted at me.

  This would have been so much easier if I just could have offered him a meal or even a cup of tea. That would have left him tied to this realm and to me the way I need. It would not have adjusted his attitude, though, nor guaranteed his strict obedience. He’s strong-willed and proud. I have to break him and then remake him. I needed to forge him in fire, to become the weapon I need. That I plan to also make him my lover? It’s lonely at the top, and there are no fae that I trust well enough to get naked and potentially vulnerable with. It’s a win/win situation for me, anyway.

  “Easy. You want to know about the rules? To find out how to keep us both alive here?”

  He snapped his mouth shut, his eyes hard, but gave me a curt nod of agreement.

  “Good. You’re about to get those answers. To do that, and in a way that won’t take too long and still give you a thorough understanding of the rules and your position within Fae society, I have to open a portal and bring you somewhere that you may find alarming.” That was an understatement, but it really would be easier to open and hold a portal if he wasn’t raising a ruckus.

  “Fine,” he bit out. It really was anything but, I could tell from his tone. No matter. He was going to stay put thanks to my vines and not shout as I drew the sigils. I reached into my pocket, taking out the piece of chalk I always carried there. I began to draw the runes and sigils upon the wall, leaving a clear circular space in the middle, one wide enough for him and the chair to be carried through. Once I was done, I held up both my hands and began murmuring the spell. The wall began to ripple and fade, leaving an opening into the reception room of the torturer’s guild. The desk sergeant there rose as he saw me.

  “Lord Willow! To what do we owe the pleasure?” he purred.

  “I’d like to book a room,” I said.

  “By all means, my lord,” he replied, opening a book on the desk before him. “A single or a shared?”

  “A single. One of your premium ones.”

  “And for how long would you like it?”

  I pursed my lips, thinking. “At least a week. If you gentlemen could just go and get him settled in, I’d appreciate it,” I said, gesturing to Ghost, placing the ivy and its pot onto his lap.

  “But of course,” he answered, gesturing to several men behind him. Four of them came through the portal, picked up the chair Ghost was tied to, and carried him back through. They made it look easy, but then, this was something they did day in and day out.

  “Hey!” Ghost shouted.

  “Gag?” the desk sergeant asked, sounding hopeful.

  “No, best to let him scream,” I decided.

  “Oh, yes, sir. I know just the suite for you!” He turned to his men. “Take him to Forget-me-Not Suite,” he told them. “Put him to bed, but don’t do anything else.”

  I watched as Ghost began to struggle. “I can walk, thank you very much! And why are we at a hotel?”

  “Hotel,” the sergeant sniggered. “That’d be the day.” He wrote the booking down.

  “Leave him shackled today and tomorrow, cut his clothes off. Nothing else except a rinse down. I can’t stand the stench of piss and shit.” I shuddered. Blood was one thing, I liked the tang of it in my mouth as I bit down.

  “Food?” he asked.

  “Not until tomorrow.” With that, I closed the portal, my hands shaking from the mental strain I’d been under holding it open for so long. I really did need a good fuck and some blood. That would restore my energy, along with a night of good sleep. Too bad sex would have to wait.

  7

  Jase

  I might find it alarming, huh? Damned straight, I found this disturbing! Who the hell expects you to open a door to someplace far away and get dragged off to jail? Not me, that’s
who. Especially not when we’re supposed to be discussing the rules and negotiating bonuses for the extra hits he added to my contract. That’s it. I’d say I’m out, except I’m not able to go anywhere, seeing as I’m bound by some magic mumbo jumbo thanks to agreeing to a job contract. Not to mention the whole being tied up thing. I’ll never be able to look at a potted plant the same way ever again.

  The four goons carried me through the building. It looked like an old school police station, complete with a wooden front desk and a booking sergeant. Only instead of being brought back to talk to any cops, I’m booked into a fucking suite. Unfortunately, that too turned out to be a trick. The Forget-Me-Not suite was a fucking dungeon. Stone walls, dirt floor, tiny window up by the ceiling, with bars and no glass in it, too high up to look out and way too small to even reach a hand through if I could find a way to get to it. Which I could’ t, because, oh yeah, there were shackles.

  I was cut free of the vines and manhandled to the wall where I was clapped into the irons they so thoughtfully provided, for both arms and legs. Put me to be bed, indeed.

  “So, The Forget-Me-Not Suite,” I snarked. “Great decor. Who thought the name up anyway? I want to be able to give them props for all this on Trip Advisor.”

  One of them looked me dead in the eye. “It’s always been called that. It’s because it’s the one non-torture master serviced rooms without an oubliette.”

  I’m now sorry I said anything. These guys are whacked. I thought Lord Asshole was a bit off, but given what I’ve seen of the other fae so far, he’s pretty normal. It’s actually a rather frightening thought. In the Army, I saw a lot of stuff. I know there are some sadistic bastards out there, but they can be taken out any number of conventional ways. These guys, though, they have magic and can trap you with just words. How do I fight that? Was this what he meant by me learning the rules? Was this some sort of crash course? Shit. The goon mentioned a torture master. I was glad he’ wasn’t coming to see me though I was now wondering if this meant Lord Fae Asshat was going to reappear and torture me himself.

  Maybe this has all been a long con to just get the stupid human to follow him to where he could have fun pulling out my fingernails. The more I think about it, though, the less that seems likely. I mean, he could have used his magic mojo to whisk me anywhere, restrain me, and do unspeakable things.

  “Psst.”

  I looked around, looking for where the noise is coming from.

  “I’m up here. Listen, I see you’re still wearing Earth clothes. How long you been here?” a man’s voice said.

  If this was a trick, it was a pretty dumb one. Plenty of other fae saw Lord High and Mighty bring me from Wynter to his condo. “Just arrived today,” I answered.

  “Have you eaten or drank anything?”

  “Um, not today, no.”

  “Don’t! If you eat or drink anything while in Faerie, you get tied to this realm and can’t go home.”

  “Not anything?”

  “Not unless you brought some food from Earth, no.”

  Well, that sucks. I’ll have to try to hold out, wait for Lord Mucky Muck to let me go, and then convince him it’s all good. I can go grab a burger and buy some boxes of granola bars and shit after I kill my human target. Some bottled waters, too. That way, I can have something to eat and drink while I make my way through his kill list. If it’s too long, I can negotiate for those bonuses to include human food and drink. He could just hop back on over through a rift.

  “Thanks,” I said. There wasn’t a reply. Whoever it was had gone. Great. Now all I had to do was wait for my new boss to come to fetch me out of here. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be any time today. You better believe that I’m adding this to his bill.

  It turned out that this place had two light settings. A dusk of purple haze and pitch dark with a fucking lavender moon that cast stray beams of light through that laughable window. The cell was cold and dank, the walls full of condensation, and my arms and shoulders ached from the weight of my body hanging from them. My neck hurt like a sonofabitch, too. My jacket, shirt, and ass of my trousers were damp from the wetness leaching into them from the wall, leaving me chilled. I was bored, hungry, and thirsty when one of the goons appeared the second day. He cut my clothes from me, advising me that it would be best to piss and shit now if I needed to as he was about to douse me with a bucket of water and soap.

  By the time the darkness came signaling the start of the second night, I was shivering, my nose running, and teeth chattering. Oh, and I really needed to piss and shit because I had refused when Lurch told me to. Go me. I was beginning to understand one thing, though. The fae all seemed to tell the truth. Maybe not the complete truth as they omitted important shit, but if they said something, I could count on what they actually said being accurate. I really should have gone. Still, if he came yesterday, maybe he’d come again tomorrow. Probably with food. No one had brought any so far. Given what my mysterious informant said, I was inclined to believe it was because they wanted me ravenous. So ravenous that when they let me down, I’d stuff myself silly. Nope, not happening.

  I went ahead and relieved myself, though. Lurch’s buddy Frankenfurter wasn’t so thrilled about it when he arrived shortly after first light.

  “Filthy animal!” he snarled before storming out of my cell. He came back moments later with a length of hose, which he fed through the bars of the cell, calling out to someone to turn the faucet on. He hosed me down along with the floor. The water was frigid, and I instinctively tried to curl away from it. I was unable to do more than cringe thanks to being bolted to the wall. He stopped when he decided both the cell and myself were clean enough and shouted for the water to be turned off. He took the hose away, returning with a plate of food and what looked like a cup of wine. The food wasn’t anything fancy, just some boiled potatoes and some kind of vegetable greens. No meat or gravy or anything. I’m not a fussy eater, but that looked unappetizing, the greens all stringy and the potatoes dry and overcooked looking. Hooray for prison food. At least it made my vow to not succumb to food temptations easy. I bet that the wine tasted like vinegar, too.

  “I’m going to let you down to eat,” Frankenfurter said.

  I did’t mention that I won’t be eating. I wanted down to relieve my aching muscles. He uncuffed me and left, locking the door of the cell behind him. I rolled my stiff neck and looked for something to dry off with. Not so much as a scrap. I ended up wiping my runny nose on the back of my hand, feeling gross as I did it. Great, there’s a bit of green. I’m getting sick being in here. I rolled my shoulders, ignoring the shooting pains as I do so. Then I walked around my cell slowly, working out the pins and needles in my legs and feet as I gauged the best place to stand in the room with the least draft. It’s equally drafty, no matter where I stand. Whoever designed this room was diabolical. Clever but absolutely evil. I’d mention that to these guys, but something tells me that they’d take it as a compliment.

  Frankenfurter came back after a while and eyed my still full plate and cup. “You’re not going to be offered anything more until tomorrow,” he informed me.

  “Stomach cramps,” I told him.

  “Just don’t yak all over yourself,” he replied, re-entering my cell. “Just the leg shackle tonight.”

  I realized it was supposed to be some kind of reward, but for what, I still don’t understand. But he had a bucket in his hand, which he placed just within reach of the left leg shackle. I sighed. Refusing to do as a fae tells me has thus far only brought me grief as they use their hocus pocus on me to make me do whatever it is they want. I decided to see what happens when I obeyed. I walked over and stood patiently as he fastened the leg shackles just over my ankles.

  “I’ll let Lord Willow know you’re feeling cooperative,” he promised, giving me a tight smile. Then he picked up the meal he brought earlier and took it away with him. As I heard the cell door clang shut behind him, the lock clicking as it engaged, I ponder that.

  Lord Willow,
huh. I had heard the desk sergeant looking guy call him that, now that I think about it. It suited him. He was tall and lithe, his long hair a pale silvery gold. Arctic blue eyes and porcelain skin with a natural blush to his cheeks and lips, and long feathery lashes that were a brown with a hint of gold. I’ll admit it. I’d looked. He was drop-dead gorgeous, and I’m a healthy man in his prime with an active libido. Plus, I fell into his eyes more than once when he mesmerized me, the dick. It gave me a good view of just how gorgeous they were, distracting me from the whammy being laid. Fucker.

  It had been dark for goodness knows how long when Lord Willow Muckity Muck finally deigned to show his face. He was dressed in one of those open neck ruffled shirts with ties crisscrossing down the front. The ones that make girls swoon and go on about Lord Byron and pirates and shit. It’s tucked into a pair of form-fitting chocolate brown leather trousers that lace up the sides. He had a pair of knee-high dark brown pirate-style boots on, too. He’s really playing on the whole elf aesthetic. Give him a bow and a hobbit, and he’d be ready to attend a convention.

  “They tell me you’ve had a rough couple of days but seem to be settling at last,” he told me, his expression grave. “I’m worried about you choosing not to eat anything, though. You need nourishment.”

  “Then go back to Earth and bring me a Big Mac,” I replied. “You know exactly why I can’t eat faerie food.”

  He didn’t deny my accusation, telling me everything I needed to know. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  “The rules, right?” I asked sarcastically.