To Stir a Fae's Passion

by Nadine Mutas

  How could she kill him now? Now she’d gotten to know him, now she’d glimpsed the warmth of his soul, the sunshine of his personality.

  I don’t want to take his life. A visceral thought, risen from the depths of her heart of stone, which yet had softened for this impossible male who so audaciously cared for her, who tumbled headlong into the challenges of life.

  Survive, a voice whispered in her mind. You need to survive at all costs.

  At all costs… But what good would it be to survive when what she had to do to stay alive would kill her inside?

  “Hey.” Basil’s voice, breaking through her sinister thoughts. All laughter gone from his face, he studied her with concern in those eyes of myriad earth tones. “What just happened? You look like someone died.”

  Her breath hitched. “I need to go…take care of nature’s call. Don’t wait up. You can go ahead and settle down to sleep.”

  She jumped up and sprinted off before he could reply.

  Whatever was tenuously budding between them, it was cursed, just as she was. No matter which way she turned it, she’d never be able to be with him. Either she snuffed out the flame of his life, or her own would fade into eternal darkness.

  Basil watched Isa rush away from him as if fleeing from a soul-sucker demon. The rustle of the brush died down as she got farther away, leaving him alone with the silence of the night and the crackling fire.

  Well, hell. That escalated quickly.

  What in the world had gotten into her? One minute she was doubled over with laughter, her gray eyes alight with such infectious humor, his heart had filled with joy, and the next she looked so crestfallen and in pain, as if she’d lost everything dear to her.

  Was it something he said? He frowned, poked the fire with a stick. What could have set her off like that?

  Shaking his head, he leaned back against the cave wall. Just when he thought he’d made progress with her, she shut down and ran off. If only she’d tell him why she felt she had to keep her distance, maybe they could work on it together and figure it out. He’d love to help her with whatever made her hesitate to relax with him.

  He loved seeing the glow on her face when she listened to him talk while they hiked during the day, the spark in her eyes when she asked him questions about his life. That was real interest.

  When his high school buddies had regularly complained about not understanding girls, Basil was the one to point out subtleties and complexities in the females’ attitude and explain them to his friends. To Basil, these things were clear as day, and he’d always been stumped when guys he hung out with acted like women were an enigmatic, irrational alien species.

  Perhaps he understood the nuances of female behavior because he grew up in a community dominated by women—witch families were notoriously matriarchal—and the women in his life had always played a bigger role than men. But in any case, he never had a problem understanding females, their body language, and behavioral cues, just as well as men’s. He knew when a woman was truly interested in him versus just making nice conversation or being friendly, and he picked up on even the subtlest nonverbal hints of a female rejecting him, which he always respected.

  Isa, however… She was sending mixed messages. No clear rejection yet, rather she was vacillating between attraction and retreat. As if she was waging some kind of war with herself about whether to give in to whatever was growing between them.

  He’d be only too happy to help her tip the scale toward giving in.

  Chapter 13

  “Merle.”

  Hazel’s voice yanked Merle out of the book she’d been buried in for the better part of the night. Pages upon pages of witch genealogy, archived history, and accounts from communities all over the world. This was the third tome she’d gone through today, all of them from the Murrays’ family library. She already flipped through the archival records at home, had then joined Hazel at the mansion to spend the evening scouring whatever books the Murrays had on witch history.

  “Hm?” she asked in noncommittal exhaustion, rubbing her closed eyes with both hands.

  “I found something,” Hazel said.

  It was the odd tone of the Elder witch’s voice that caused Merle to sit up straight, foreboding skittering down her spine like a centipede.

  “There is one account here of a witch your age who had to assume the position of head of her family, and then became pregnant.”

  Merle swallowed, her stomach cramping. “And?”

  Hazel lowered her eyes, a pained look on her face.

  “Let me read it.” Merle sounded raw even to her own ears, as raw as her throat felt.

  With trembling hands, she took the book from Hazel, focused on the page. The more she read, the more her chest caved in and her breathing flattened out. No.

  Rhun’s presence brushed up against her skin as he entered the library, his concern flowing along the mating bond. “What is it?”

  “We found—” Hazel began, but Merle cut her off.

  “She lost it,” she whispered, the heat of tears prickling in her eyes. “The only other witch who became pregnant while head of her family. She lost the baby because her family members continued to use magic and she had to uphold the balance.” Her lungs seized, her heart shattered. “She stayed childless for the rest of her life.” She stifled her sob with both shaking hands over her mouth, closed her eyes, and wept silently.

  Warm darkness enveloped her senses, Rhun’s power stroking over her mind, her heart, soothing the firestorm within her. He pulled her into his arms, held her head against his chest, his hand on her hair.

  No words. He had no words for her this time, neither out loud nor in the intimacy of their shared mental connection. She knew why he remained silent. Anything he had to say had already been said, and repeating it now, with her soul in tatters and her emotions bleeding, would only send her tumbling further into despair. For there was nothing to say from his standpoint but to state the only logical step and do what had to be done to save their baby.

  And yet the thought of pushing Maeve into the claws of the Demon Lord, of severing their family connection and ceding magical custodianship over her to Arawn was so inconceivable, so utterly sickening. How could she do this to her baby sister? After what she’d been through?

  Merle cried until there were no more tears in her, until her chest ached, hollow and arid, the fiber of her soul so brittle it might crumble at any moment. With a last sniffle, she pushed away from Rhun, shook her head at the question in his eyes.

  Please don’t, she sent along the connection to his mind. I need more time.

  Because the fiercest, most stubborn part of her clung with bloody fingers to an impossible hope.

  I’ve always loved your stubbornness, Rhun replied mentally, but there are things I will not budge on, either. Such torment in his eyes, twisted pain in his soul—and the promise of steel in the tone of his psychic voice.

  Understood, she whispered in his mind.

  And she did. Time was running out, and she was racing far behind.

  Hazel had silently left the room some time ago, and they found her in the kitchen when they went to say good-bye. She hugged Merle tight, a thousand loving, encouraging words in the warmth of that gesture, and accompanied them to the front of the house.

  They were crossing the foyer underneath the massive chandelier when the doorbell rang. Hazel stopped short, glanced at the clock, which showed one in the morning.

  “At this hour?” she murmured.

  Since Merle and Rhun had been on the verge of leaving anyway, they followed her out to the main gate, where the nighttime visitor waited just beyond the perimeter of the magical wards protecting the Murray property. Rhun stepped in front of Merle as they approached, subtly reminded her to stay back—where normally he had no issue acknowledging that she was more powerful in terms of magic, he’d now firmly assumed the role of her protector, since she needed to use as little magic as possible.

  Hazel stepped up to the gate
, opened it with a flick of her hand. The wrought-iron fence was mostly for show anyway, for human eyes and perceptions. Any otherworld creature worth its salt would be able to scale a barrier like it; the wards kept out intruders of the supernatural sort.

  And those protections remained in place, making sure the fae who waited on the sidewalk didn’t take a step closer.

  “Good evening,” the female said, and inclined her head.

  Light brown skin, blond hair flowing over her shoulders, and age-old fae power rolling off her, the visitor looked expectantly at Hazel, who stood frozen in place. Her energy pattern fluctuated wildly, and Merle wished she could read auras as well as Lily just so she could figure out what was going on with Hazel.

  “You…” the Elder witch whispered.

  “I have come for the changeling.”

  A second, a heartbeat, of utterly speechless shock, which was written plainly on Hazel’s face—and then she lost it. With a move almost too fast for Merle to follow, Hazel struck, her magic pulsing in the night air. Merle flinched when Hazel’s spell hit the fae, bound her to the spot with a powerful paralysis charm.

  Whoa, Rhun said in Merle’s mind. What’s gotten into Hazel?

  I don’t know, Merle replied, frowning. Given that Hazel had been eager to find a fae to take her into Faerie, and that, apparently, this was the fae who had brought Basil here all those years ago, such an aggressive move on Hazel’s part didn’t make sense.

  The head of the Murray family advanced on the fae, twisting her hand to jack up the paralysis spell. Power crackled around her like an electric charge.

  “I come…in peace…” the fae choked out.

  “The hell you do.” Hazel flashed her teeth, and Merle almost stumbled back at the fierce expression on her usually sweet face. “You have picked the wrong time to play with me. I have been worried sick about my daughter in Faerie, and now about my son, too, after he left without a word, while I have been stuck here waiting, waiting, waiting, when I should be out there protecting my children…and then you show up out of the blue, so convenient, so fitting, but I am done playing your game. I have no patience left to hear whatever lies you want to spin now, and you will find I am no longer the witch you coerced to do your bidding twenty-six years ago!”

  With a primal, rage-filled scream, Hazel hurled another spell at the fae, her hands weaving in the air to form the most powerful truth charm known to witchkind, used to nullify even the strongest enchantments.

  The fae gasped, jerked, and fell to her knees. Eyes widened in shock as Hazel renewed the paralysis spell again on top of the truth compulsion, the fae coughed, wheezed—and then her features changed.

  As if melting under great heat, the lines of her face sagged, blurred, as did the rest of her body. Her appearance dissolved, gave way to another form. A male fae emerged in her stead—no, not a fae. Merle inhaled sharply as the unmistakable energy of a demon brushed her senses.

  Now I have seen everything, Rhun muttered in her mind.

  Merle couldn’t agree more.

  Golden blond hair, light skin with just the hint of a warm tan, the youthful look of a male in his prime, the demon’s features reminded her of… Before Merle could make the connection, Hazel spoke.

  “Who are you?”

  The demon obviously struggled, trying to not to reply, but the truth spell pulled the answer out of him like a dentist yanked out a tooth. “The changeling’s father.”

  Merle grabbed Rhun to steady herself. His shock vibrated along their mating bond, a mirror of her own. Nothing compared to Hazel’s reaction. Her face blanched, her energy so palpable it felt like a whip.

  “But you’re a demon,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he ground out.

  “What kind?”

  “Hæmingr.”

  Frowning, Hazel looked at Rhun.

  He cleared his throat. “Power-stealing shapeshifter demons.”

  “What is your name?” Hazel asked of the hæmingr.

  He panted, his effort not to answer straining all the muscles in his neck, transforming his beautiful face into a hard mask. “Tallak.”

  “Tell me everything,” Hazel rasped.

  “Let me go,” he grunted, “and I will explain.”

  “No.” Hazel’s voice sliced through the air like a blade. “You will remain under my spell until I am satisfied you have told me all you know. You are in no position to negotiate, and you better not try my patience, demon.”

  Well now, Rhun said mentally, Hazel’s not messing around, is she? Never thought I’d see her with zero fucks to give.

  You truly have a way with words, my darling demon.

  She felt his grin more than saw it.

  “Speak,” Hazel growled. “Start at the beginning. How come you had a child with a fae?”

  The demon—Tallak—grunted, then succumbed to the force of the truth compulsion. “I saw her—Roana—when she traveled outside of Faerie. I fell for her, courted her, and we became lovers, but she had to return to her people. She was part of the royal court, was called back to serve. She didn’t want to leave me, so she brought me with her. Since demons are forbidden in Faerie, I had to conceal myself. When I couldn’t hide, I would kill fae to take their powers and mimic their auras. It went well for a while. She became pregnant, and we made plans to flee Faerie. We were almost ready to leave when I was caught.”

  He panted, pain etching lines on his face. “Demon-fae offspring are a sin, an abomination to the fae. They do not permit them to live. Roana and I had an agreement—she was to run if my cover was blown, in order to save our child. Roana managed to escape before they got to her. They imprisoned me, for they do not know how to kill my kind, and they sent someone after her to bring her back. When the bounty hunter dragged her into the palace, they brought me out to watch before they locked me away again. She was almost at full term, and…”

  A heaving breath, darkness pooling around him like a dismal cloak. “Even in my prison cell, news about the delivery reached me. She died in childbirth, and the babe along with her. At least that is what they told me—it wasn’t until I escaped, after preparing it for twenty long years, wanting to take revenge on the whole rotten lot of them, that I learned the baby had survived. I had slaughtered the damned pack in their pompous room of marble and gold, but the last one I intended to kill stayed my hand with her revelation that she’d smuggled my child out. She told me where to find him. My son.”

  His voice turned to a rasp, and something fractured in his gaze. “I have come for…my son.”

  Silence boomed in the night, only interrupted by Tallak’s heavy breaths.

  Is anyone writing this down? Rhun asked. This would make one hell of a story.

  Merle poked him in his ribs with her elbow. Shush.

  “Where is he?” Tallak asked, focused on Hazel. “Where is my boy?”

  “Not here,” she croaked. “He’s gone into Faerie.”

  “What?”

  She swallowed. “He’s looking for my daughter, Rose, the one who was taken from me in exchange for Basil.”

  “Basil…” He frowned, his voice turning into a growl. “You named him after an herb?”

  Rhun laughed. Merle poked him again, hard enough to make him wince.

  I’m sorry, he said in her mind, the humor in his mental voice belying his apology. This is just too good.

  Hazel flicked her wrist, and Tallak uttered a pained sound. “I would expect the father of the bright boy I raised to be smarter than to insult a witch while in her grasp.”

  Tallak glowered at her.

  I wish I had popcorn, Rhun said.

  You don’t even eat regular food. Merle graced him with her death glare.

  I would for this.

  “Do you know anything about Rose?” Hazel asked. “About where she is in Faerie and how she is doing?”

  “No. The fae who told me about my son didn’t mention a witch changeling.”

  The magic pulsing around Hazel darkened.
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br />   “How do your powers work?” Hazel demanded. “You said you can absorb someone’s powers…after killing them?”

  “Yes.” Spoken through gritted teeth. Tallak’s eyes glowed amber while he stared at Hazel. “Taking the life of an otherworld creature means I can steal their magic and their memories.”

  “Forever?”

  He struggled some more, grunted, then said, “No. It will last anywhere from a couple of days to two weeks.”

  Hazel was silent, her forehead furrowed, her aura vibrating. “You said you slaughtered the royal court of Faerie. Did you take all of their magic?”

  A grunt, then, “Yes.”

  Holy powers. Merle was glad Tallak remained under Hazel’s spell and on the other side of the wards. If he were to roam around unchecked…

  “This happened last night?” Hazel asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So you’ll have fae powers for at least another day?”

  “Probably even longer.” The annoyed look on Tallak’s face left no doubt that he’d rather have kept that info to himself.

  “You said you can steal someone’s memories, too. Did you steal those of the fae you killed?”

  “Yes,” he hissed. “It happens automatically when I absorb their powers.”

  “Then you know how to take non-fae into Faerie?”

  “I do.”

  Hazel studied him for a few seconds, her resolve settling over her like the finest armor. “You will take me into Faerie, and together we’ll search for Basil, and when we find him, we’ll look for Rose. I will bind you to me, Tallak, so don’t think you can skip and run. Try to harm me, and it will backfire on you. Understood?”

  “Yes.” The amber of his eyes glowed in the night as if lit with an inner fire, the harshness of his features promising Hazel retribution.

  “Will you take Lily?” Merle asked Hazel.

  She shook her head. “We don’t know how long the trip will take, and Lily can’t be away from Alek for more than one night, since she needs his prana. And Alek can’t come along with us.”

  Right. His job as Arawn’s enforcer would keep him here. If he wanted to take some time off to go into Faerie, he’d have to ask Arawn…and none of them wanted Alek to be forced to ask Arawn for anything else after he bargained his freedom away to the Demon Lord in order to help Lily.