Untamed Hart

by Kim Faulks

  Arlo came after Hart as he backed away. Hate and disgust burned in his eyes. “Don’t ever come back here. I’ll kill you if you do.”

  Hart nodded and fumbled for the door. Remnants of his mother blazed in the alpha’s eyes. For a moment, Hart ached with the need for kindness, to feel his mother’s arms—to feel more than the black pit of despair inside him.

  He dragged the door closed and turned at the stairs. There was nothing for him here, no blood tie he could count on.

  “Hey, Hart.”

  The voice echoed from nowhere. A flash of white caught his gaze from the darkened tree line. She stepped out of the shadows looking like a perfect summer day. Hart stilled, and then turned his head glancing back to the cabin. “Go away, Merry.”

  His cousin stiffened, hands found her hips, a look of disappointment crossed her face. “Really, you going to dismiss your only friend?”

  Friend. His chest ached with the word. Being his friend would only get her in trouble. He swung his leg and climbed onto the bike. “I don’t have any friends. Don’t need them. Stay away from me, Merry.”

  “I know where you can get information about Allendra.”

  He stiffened at the name. Don’t do it, don’t drag her into your mess. Don’t ruin the last good thing you have in your miserable fucking life.

  “Merry, you’re just a kid. You have no idea what you’re saying.”

  “I’m nineteen and FYI not a kid. I know exactly what I’m saying. You’ve been marked for a mate, and even though I think it’s great that others are finding their one true love, I think it’s sick and sadistic that’s it’s a damn death sentence.”

  His stomach dropped. His heart sped, hollow words had a trace of truth. “I’m not going to die. I’ll still be…me.”

  Dried twigs snapped as Merry crept close. Her long blond hair sparkled in the sun, blue eyes nailed him to the ground. “Don’t lie to me. You can lie to anyone else, but not to me.”

  He and Merry were night and day, always had been even with a good five years between them. But his cute, little pain in the ass cousin was all he had left. He pressed the button and the Harley came alive, then he cut a glance over his shoulder toward the cabin door before finding her once more. “Stay out of it, Merry. You’ll only get yourself in trouble.”

  His lithe, younger cousin burst forward, legs pumping, white dress flapping in the breeze, and hit him as he straddled the bike. Her arms closed around his shoulders, trapping him. Her cheek was so soft, pressed against the hard scruff of his.

  “Find the Seer, Harvest,” she growled into his ear. “She’ll tell you what to know.”

  There was a knowing in her eyes as she stepped away. One nod and she was turning, racing back into the cover of darkness, as though she’d never been there at all.

  Her words lingered. The old Seer had not been spoken about for years. Whispers of her death had been circulated so often, he’d expected at least one of the rumors to be true.

  Hope surged inside him, burning him with purpose. He shoved the bike into gear and left his family behind. Salvation echoed with the words ringing inside his head, resurrecting the clear blue eyes of the Fae.

  He’d killed out of self-preservation before—and he’d do it again.

  The mark on his wrist burned as he strangled the throttle, kicking stones in his wake.

  Find the Fae, kill the Creator.

  A dark need consumed him—a one-way trip to Hell.

  That’s okay, he knew the way…he’d been there before.

  2

  Ondine

  Ondine traced the three marks across her wrist. But betrayal cut deeper than any wound. Her Creator…had marked her—just like all the others…as though the last three hundred years meant…nothing.

  Cold seeped into her body. She pressed her wrist into the marble floor and waited to feel something other than the ache of rejection.

  Your choice might be harder than most.

  She gripped her knees through her yellow shift and dropped her glamour. The brutal rush swallowed her, pain, pleasure left her to writhe. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She sucked in a breath and fought for control.

  There was a war within her.

  Gone was the blue in her eyes, gone was the perfect skin. She unveiled the real her where the dark fought the light, whispering…corrupting.

  Black markings curled from the tips of her fingers on her right hand to consume half her body. Black wisps of long hair blended into strands of white.

  Night and day, just like the savage war inside her.

  She was abhorrent, hated within her own kind…hated within herself. She’d never dropped her glamour—not even for a second—for if others saw her true self—they’d see how stained she was.

  Leave, whispered the voice inside her head. Go back to your kind. Gold irises sparkled in the sleek shine of the marble floor, calling her to one side of her kin. But the longer she stared the more they changed. Black bled into yellow, and then yellow into black, just like the war that ravaged both sides of her families.

  One family that shunned her—that banished her.

  And the other family she was terrified of…

  My kind…I have no kind.

  Not Seelie.

  Not Unseelie.

  But both.

  She was stripped bare, lashed deeper than any spell. Allendra had been more than a mother, she’d been her savior—the one who took pity on her—who at first provided her cold comfort, but then slowly Allendra warmed to her.

  She found a home within these endless sleek walls, and she found a mother with the Creator, one who never punished her for the color of her skin, and for the blood in her veins.

  But she punished her now.

  She dragged her knees closer and gripped her body tight as silent tears fell.

  To be mortal…human.

  She trembled with the thought, turning into shudders that quaked from the center of her soul. To be human was to leave behind everything she was, and everything she’d ever known.

  Run, whispered the voice inside. Run back home…they may hate you—but they hate mortals more.

  Salty tears slipped over the cusp of her lip. Through the blur, she stared at the inky vines smothering her skin. Desperation took flight—she needed someone…anyone.

  She’d beg, plead. She’d live in isolation—she’d suffer any consequence to belong…

  Anything to belong.

  Ondine’s hand slipped in her tears as she shoved against the marble floor. Despair birthed a desire, and that need raced like wildfire through her veins.

  Home…

  But which one?

  Marble cracked under her bare feet, spidering out like veins as she stood. The walls seemed to bow inward as power circled inside her like a whirlpool. Power she’d denied for most of her life.

  She raised her hands, searching for balance and found nothing but the bitter sting of rage. Air cut like glass as she inhaled, she needed an anchor…something she could use for control.

  Glamor smothered more than her Seelie and Unseelie features, it suffocated her power and turned her own energy inward. She conjured lilac hair, soft features, smooth skin, but out of the maelstrom came something else—something darker.

  Unseelie fingers reached through the cracks inside her mind, dark haunted eyes filled her. Midnight nails punctured the gap, the curved edges honed to a sharp point. The Unseelie motioned Ondine closer.

  They waited for her…called to her.

  They wanted her.

  Her feet slipped on the marble. Fire lashed her bare soles. She left the echo of her steps behind and raced for her bedroom—for the one thing that could save her—and for the only thing she had of her mother’s.

  White walls blurred as she stumbled through the doorway. Her room was empty, bare, but held the only thing about her that was real. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the yellow box on the dresser beside her bed.

  She caressed the soft felt and grippe
d the lid. Metal hinges squealed, opening wide, revealing the only heirloom she’d ever owned. Every day she caressed the box, every day Ondine looked but never touched. She yearned but never gave in. She remembered but never journeyed…

  Until now.

  The carved Seelie Pearl sparkled. She reached inside and skimmed the golden glow. Seelie magic called to the one inside, brightening the sheen until in the sparkle of her world was revealed.

  The sight stole her breath. She closed her eyes and whispered of home. For a second nothing happened, as though the gates for her had been sealed, until out of the turmoil inside her came a piercing golden light.

  Seelie magic gripped her tight. The tug on her soul was fast, brutal, dragging her through the glow—and where her soul went, so did her body.

  Her glamor slipped into place as she was thrown into the Seelie world. Lilac hair replaced black and white strands, pale blue of the lower Seelie caste replaced the gold and black in her eyes.

  Here she was no one, nothing. Here she could move about—for a while at least, until the Seelie world wore her own magic away, and revealed her true form.

  Her foot caught something uneven. Hard stones seemed to rise up as she hit the ground. She slapped the earth, saving her face from the impact and took her first breath in her Seelie world.

  “Watch where you’re going.”

  A shadow splashed across the ground and swallowed her. Ondine flinched and scurried backwards, moving out of the way. An older Seelie woman came into view. Her bun slid sideways as she dipped her head, strands of her gray hair fell free. But it was the cavern in the middle of her face Ondine saw.

  The gash parted as the old woman breathed, like the gill on a fish. Marinia people were rare, even in the Seelie world. Her skin glinted as she moved, throwing hues of blue and gold across Ondine’s skin.

  “You okay, child?”

  The ground trembled, shuddering with the boom of steps. Ondine nodded and scanned the side street. Giants towered above her as they thundered past without so much as a second glance. Others shuffled around her. Men of the forest glared at her, carrying the thick pelts of their beasts around their neck.

  The yellow eyes of a wolf found hers. The beasts in the Seelie world were very different to the ones above. They were colder, quieter…this whole world was silent. She clenched her fist around the pearl comb in her hand as the eerie absence of voices closed in. No one but the old woman spoke, not even in passing—not even in greeting.

  Cold, careful eyes hid unspoken anger. The more she looked, the more Ondine saw. This was not the world she remembered.

  Ondine climbed to her feet, meeting the woman’s gaze. “Yes, thank you.”

  Tired old eyes focused on her and she leaned in to whisper. “You lost?”

  More than you know. “What happened here? Why is it so quiet, why doesn’t anyone speak?”

  “Where have you been for the last five years, missy?” The Marinia woman shuffled to the side and looked over her shoulder. “Don’t you know we’re in mourning?”

  Mourning? Mourning for what? Ondine raised her head to the colorful thrum of the marketplace. Over the gold filigree banners and sky blue tents hovered the castle Saul. The golden flag bearing the white stag of her family hovered at half-mast.

  The sight was a blow to her stomach, panic crowded in, whispering of death… “The princess?”

  “Alive. But her son, Prince Nerux…”

  Ondine closed her eyes and rocked with the woman’s words. “How?”

  “No one knows, we've not seen the Prince or the Princess since the announcement. They stay behind those walls—hidden from their people. Without them we are lost…we are…”

  …in mourning.

  From the moment he was born, Nerux had been a sickly child. Memories of his birth engulfed her. She’d huddled in the shadows above her mother’s room, listening while her mother screamed and labored. The Prince had been driven with excitement and happiness. He finally had an heir. The Prince was convinced this would fix her mother, this child was the cure to her mother’s broken spirit…this child was the cure to her.

  And when the first faint, choking cry echoed from behind the closed door Ondine felt relief…utter relief and hope that the Prince was right. That Nerux was the one to fix her mother and atone for her sins.

  And he had, for a time at least.

  The door to her mother’s suite had opened and the Prince strode through. He turned his head finding Ondine huddling against the wall, his voice had a faint trace of warmth—the first she’d ever heard. “Your mother is asking for you, she wants you to meet your new brother.”

  And with that he left. Ondine climbed down from the shadows. Her feet tangled in the hem of her long dress. She fisted her skirt, and slid along the mammoth sill until she fell.

  The open door held wonders—of that she’d been sure. Ondine crept inside, moving like the first white wisps of fog in the early morning, and searched darkened corners for the one child who’d save them all.

  The Princess sat in the middle of the gigantic bed, huddled amongst thick downy blankets and mountains of pillows. She glanced up as Ondine neared and for a second, stared at her with the same haunted expression. Ondine caught the flinch. Her throat tightened, forcing her disgust down.

  Ondine was too young, barely more than a child. All she knew was that she was hated—she was feared. She was the shattered piece in this fractured cup—she was the reason her mother never smiled and never laughed.

  But in this moment the corners of her mouth curled, and she beckoned Ondine closer with the wave of her hand. “Come, Ondine. Come meet your brother.”

  She’d glanced down at the bundle in her mother’s arms and caught the faint golden glow of his skin. A glow that should’ve filled not just the room, but the castle halls. A glow that should’ve poured from every window and every door in the castle and announced the birth to the entire Seelie Kingdom.

  But her brother's essence didn’t light the halls. His soft rays barely licked the edges of the blanket, and as her mother lowered her gaze, she saw her first faint echoes of fear.

  Nerux remained inside that room until he learned to crawl and then walk. Ondine watched him from afar, sneaking in when the Prince was out of town.

  In those moments, there was just the three of them, and for the first time in her life, she had a glimpse at happiness.

  Until the young prince was named successor to the Prince, and Ondine was banished from the Seelie Court.

  But now…now there was no successor, and there was no Court. A fist clenched around Ondine’s heart. She had to ask the question—had to know. “And the daughter, Ondine. What of her?”

  The old woman turned to find her. Fire flared in her gaze and her nostrils flared with hate. “Banished to the Unseelie, where the ruined shall remain.”

  Banished. The golden flag blurred. Ondine nodded as her words hit their mark. “Such a sad existence, don’t you think? To be unwanted because of something the Unseelie King had done?”

  The old woman leaned over and spat on the ground, her bitter tone cut like glass. “The vile scum raped one of the royal Princesses and filled her with child. He took her against her will, forced her to live as man and wife until the King sent the hunter, Hartsbane, to bring her back to us. Twas our good fortune he fell in love with the Princess and took her with babe in her belly and all.”

  She nodded, finding the royal banners flapping in the wind. “Blood was spilled on that day, and the damn color still stains these streets. And aye ’tis a hard thing for a child to bear, knowing how she came to be—but the Unseelie are a foul breed, they consume like a disease—it’s best she remains where she is. We don't want her kind ’ere.”

  Even with no heir, they didn’t want her. Ondine nodded, her choked whisper scalded her throat. “May the light shine bright in you, old woman.”

  Blue eyes found hers. “And you too child. Now, do you know your way around this place, can I offer you some ale, o
r supper?”

  Ondine shook her head, cruelty and kindness one harsh flip of a coin. The old woman didn’t know her. Didn’t know the ache that consumed her. Ondine turned to the banners…her brother had been stolen from her twice, years ago when she’d been banished, and…now.

  “May the light shine bright, Princess…and in you too Prince. Take care of her…”

  Take care of my mother.

  The magic of this world wore away her defenses, picking apart each layer of her glamour. Ondine dragged her nails down her skin leaving red welts in her wake. Faint black markings rose to the surface, only to disappear once more.

  She had to go…but go where?

  The Unseelie ghost inside her head waited, smiling with black stained lips, exposing rows of razored teeth.

  Would she go to the Unseelie Kingdom where her rapist father waited?

  He’d welcome her with open arms.

  There she'd find more than a place at his side. She’d find a family—she’d find a home, and be everything the Seelie people expected she’d be—a monster.

  The pearl comb dug into her palm. She was marked, so she’d be with all the others who were the same. The vision filled her, taking her to where the immortal creatures lived. Take me there, where all the others are marked like me…

  The pearl warmed in her fist. Light spilled between the cracks. She raised her head, taking one last look at the kingdom that had once been her home and slipped into the golden rays of the light.

  3

  Hart

  No one knew of the Seer, Harvest. No one willing to risk the wrath of the old one, at least. Hart climbed back onto his bike and wiped his bloodied knuckles against his jeans. Behind him, the door opened with a bang.

  Hart turned his head and glanced over his shoulder, while inside desperation unleashed its own merciless wrath.

  The male witch stumbled onto the landing. Strands of his long brown hair whipped his reddened face. Blood seeped from the split at his mouth to trickle down his chin. Hart could still see the imprint of his palm on the witch’s cheek.