by H. D. Gordon
Neither of them said a word as she stuck the key she’d been given in their cabin door, turning it in the lock and pushing it open, sunlight spilling into the dark interior of the cabin in a bright rectangle. Surah wondered if Charlie’s heart was beating as fiercely as hers. She was not aware of it, but the answer was yes.
The interior of the cabin was cozy and clean, the smell of the salty sea air lingering between the dark walls. It was one room with a bed, a small kitchen separated by a half wall with an open top, and a sliding glass door that led out to a little porch with views of the ocean where two rocking chairs rocked gently in the wind. There was an outdoor shower, and a door that led to a tiny bathroom with a sink and a toilet.
In other words, it was about as intimate a setting Surah had ever seen. Or maybe she was just that nervous.
Charlie was watching her, his handsome face expressionless as he shut the door to the cabin behind him and wandered through the room. His green eyes seemed to pin her where she stood, and she had the feeling he was well aware of this.
“You look like you’re afraid I’m going to attack you,” he said.
Actually, she thought, you should be more afraid that I’m going to attack you.
She swallowed away the thought and said, “Don’t be ridiculous,” in as queenly a manner as she could manage.
Charlie studied her for a moment before going to the sliding door in the east side of the cabin and pushing it open.
“Come out and sit with me,” he said. “Let’s talk.”
Surah felt both relieved and disappointed. Following his instruction, she stepped out into the cool and pleasant evening air, seating herself in the rocking chair beside his. They listened to the soundtrack of the world for a moment.
Then, Charlie said, “What’s next, Surah?”
Surah released a deep breath, staring out at the sea. “Next, I visit the Underworlds. There’s a certain Dark Lord who needs to be paid a visit.”
Charlie nodded. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to do that. You should be safe here. I doubt anyone suspects us to be in the human world.”
“That’s neither here nor there. If you’re going to the Underworlds, I’m coming with you.”
Surah nodded at this, grateful that he didn’t want to leave her to do this alone.
“Okay,” she said. “But I’ll have to use the Black Stone to protect us. It’s the only thing that’s powerful enough. It’ll take me a few hours to prepare the Spell.” She cleared her throat. “Which is why we needed the cabin.”
A small smile was tugging at the corner of Charlie’s lips. Surah wondered if he realized how attractive he was when he did this. “Is that the only reason we needed the cabin, my queen?” he asked.
Surah kept her gaze on the waters before her, but a tiny grin was pulling at her lips as well. “Among other reasons, Mr. Redmine,” she said.
He chuckled, and already the mood between them was lighter, despite the heaviness that always seemed to be hanging over their heads.
“What are we trying to accomplish, going down to the Underworlds?” he asked. “What’s the best case scenario here? I don’t have much experience with Dark Lords.”
This was a question that was hard to answer, because Surah wasn’t sure there was anything to be accomplished. In fact, if she was being honest, odds were that visiting this particular Dark Lord would only make matters worse.
Dagon was not known for being reasonable, and his history with her family was surely the reason he’d thrown his hand in with the Fae Queen and Black Heart.
But Surah’s late father had always insisted that a good leader tried every manner of diplomacy before subjecting his or her people to a war, where surely the losses would be even greater than those already had.
And if that failed, there was always the backup plan: Kill anyone who posed a threat, be it Fae, Sorcerer, Demon, or Dark Lord. Kill them all.
“Honestly,” she said, turning to face Charlie, “I don’t know what I hope to accomplish. Dagon is not one who usually sees reason… but if there’s any chance, any chance at all, that all-out war can be avoided, I have to give it a shot.”
“Spoken like a true queen,” Charlie said.
Rather abruptly, Surah stood, the chair rocking gently with her motion. She slid open the glass doors and paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at the man she loved, the man she’d risked everything for.
“Come inside, Charlie,” she said. “We’ve got other business to attend to.”
Charlie stood and followed without a word, closing the sliding door behind him and drawing the curtain that accompanied it.
Chapter 23
Surah
Despite the boldness with which she’d just spoken, Surah found that her hands were shaking slightly, her breathing growing a touch uneven.
She knew what was coming next, and somehow the prospect of being alone with Charlie Redmine was even more intimidating than going to the Underworlds to visit a Dark Lord.
She let the magic spell that was disguising her real clothing drop, her long cloak and otherworldly attire becoming visible once more. Charlie stood as still as a statue, his brilliant green eyes watching her the way a lion observes a gazelle. Surah wouldn’t have thought it possible, but her heart kicked up in pace further still.
Violet eyes locked on him, she unclasped the front of her cloak, and with a flick of her fingers it lifted from her shoulders and folded itself into a neat square, settling down on the dresser pushed into the corner of the small room.
Slowly, she unzipped her black boots and set them aside. Charlie continued to watch her, his chest rising and falling as his gaze traveled up and down her and back again. Her full lips lifted in a smile, her palms a bit moist at the prospect of sliding over his skin.
She was well aware that the world of their kind hung in the balance, that some terrible people were after them, that death was waiting around the bend, and only time would tell exactly whom it was waiting for.
This only drove home the fact that she needed this. They needed this. Charlie and her needed to steal this time that was ever working against them and just be together.
Because he knew as well as she that this could be the last, the light of their love as brilliant and as short-lived as that of a shooting star, gracing the skies with its beauty for only a few stolen breaths.
Charlie came forward slowly. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his muscular shoulders tight with tension, only stopping when he was within inches of her, when she could smell his clean, masculine scent mingling with the salty air.
Silence hung between them, the only sound that of Surah’s heart beating in her ears, of the ticking clock in her mind. His hand came up and rested on her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, her violet eyes squeezing tight, trying to commit to memory the sensation of his skin against hers.
His voice was a deep whisper in the dim light of the room, the soft murmuring of a lover. “No regrets, Surah,” he told her. “No matter what happens, know that I’ve got no regrets.”
His rough thumb stroked her cheek, brushing away a single tear that had fallen there. “No matter what, no matter how short our time is together, for me, it was worth it.” He sighed, staring at her like he might never see her again. His next words were barely audible, as if spoken only to himself. “So much more than worth it.”
Surah gripped the bottom of his t-shirt, lifting it over his head. The hard muscles in his wide chest captivated her, the tan skin there scarred in various places, reminders of wounds received long ago.
He stood silent and still under her appraisal. Slowly, she let her fingers wander over the smooth scars that marked his shoulders, chest, and abdomen, wondering if fate would allow them enough time together for her to learn the story behind each of those marks, or if most of him would forever remain a mystery to her.
She swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling more rapidly as each intake of breath broug
ht with it Charlie’s scent. He had not moved an inch since she’d removed his shirt, as if he was afraid his touch might break her. Surah could not help a small, sad smile at this, because in a way, she supposed it had.
One last deep breath, and she pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it aside, standing bare before him. Still, Charlie did not move, only stared into her eyes as if an eternal fire burned there. Her fingers barely made it to the button on her pants when his paralysis broke, and he lifted her into his solid arms as though she weighed nothing.
The feel of her bare chest against his made a fire swirl in her stomach that she was sure would scorch her soul were it not extinguished with a hurry.
Then his lips were on hers, her eyes squeezing shut and her mouth exploring his with a hunger that rivaled that of a Great Beast. Tears broke free despite her closed eyes, but for the first time in what felt like forever, they were not tears of sadness, but those of joy.
She knew then that he was right. All of it, everything that had happened, and everything that was still to come, was worth it.
His strong hands gripped her thighs as he held her aloft, her legs wrapping around him and squeezing tight. Her fingers trailed over the hard muscles in his back, her head falling back and a sigh escaping her lips as his warm tongue drew small circles on the tender skin of her neck.
Charlie carried her over to the bed, laying her down gently, his large body poised over hers, his emerald eyes drinking her in.
She pulled him down to her, their bodies flush against one another, their hearts beating perfectly in time. Her fingers dug into the tan skin of his back, her legs encircling his waist.
Charlie braced his strong arms on either side of her, pushing himself up so that he could stare at her bare body. Her chest rose and fell, as she lifted her bottom and removed her pants, wearing nothing now but her sheer thong underwear.
When he dipped his head and kissed the spot between her breasts, his lips warm and soft, a shiver ran through her body. He chuckled lowly against her skin, his mouth trailing kisses up to her sensitive nipple, which he flicked twice with his tongue before taking it into his wicked mouth and making her arch up off the bed in pleasure.
“Charlie,” she gasped.
“Mmm,” he mumbled, his fingers stroking circles on the hard planes of her stomach as his mouth continued its exploration.
She reached between them and unbuttoned his pants, needing to feel every inch of his bare skin against hers. Charlie lifted and kicked them away, and Surah held his emerald gaze as he bit his lip and looked down at her.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
Surah was surprised she could speak. “So are you.”
A low growl rumbled in his throat, and he kissed her before moving his mouth to her neck, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin there.
Surah reached between them and gripped him in her hand, the proud length of him smooth and warm. She stroked him once before opening up and guiding him into her.
As he filled her, his head lifted and his eyes slipped closed as he groaned in pleasure.
She bit her lip as he pushed slowly deeper, and gasped in ecstasy.
She flipped him onto his back and climbed atop him, guiding him back into her. Her head fell back as she stared up at the ceiling and began to move atop him.
One of his hands went to her waist while the other gripped her breast, the former guiding her movements while the latter stroked gently.
They finished together, their bodies uniting and melting into one another. When they were done, Surah collapsed into Charlie’s strong arms, and Charlie held her as if he would never let go.
Surah could not remember ever being as happy and content as she was in this moment, and more than anything, it made her realize that she would fight to the death to keep this man at her side.
Her mouth opened and the words fell out before she could stop them. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me, Charlie,” she said, and her cheeks immediately reddened as she heard how crazy that sounded spoken out loud.
Charlie only chuckled. “I love you, too,” he said.
Chapter 24
Black Heart
Tristell the Fae Queen fell to the side, sliding off her lover, the air still tearing in and out of her lungs.
Her lover lie at her side, staring up at the sky through the canopies of the strange trees that made up the Fae Forest.
“Michael was distracted,” she said, her sweet, high voice close in his ear.
He turned his head to the side and raised a dark brow at her. “By the sounds you were making, I wouldn’t think so,” he said.
The Fae Queen waved a sharp-nailed hand, her slanted eyes narrowing. “Just because Michael’s still a good lover when he’s distracted does not change the fact that he was distracted.” Her red lips pushed out in a pout.
He sighed, crossed his hands behind his head, shifting on the soft makeshift bed of leaves below him.
“You’ll have to forgive me,” he snapped. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
Her sharp grin widened, and he wondered at the way his anger only ever seemed to excite her. Say what you want about Tristell the Fae Queen, but she was one unique creature, any way you cut it. He just wasn’t much in the mood for her games at the moment. Too much was still hanging in the balance, too much still to be done.
“You’re still worried about involving Dagon,” she said. It was not a question.
“Dark Lords are even more untrustworthy than Leprechauns. Of course I’m concerned.”
She hopped up with that animal-like agility that was so common among her kind, and began rubbing her back up against the bark of the nearest tree, the large, feathered wings attached there shifting this way and that.
“Michael needs to stop being afraid of the Dark Lord. It’s not attractive.”
He climbed to his feet, grabbing his pants from a bush near the base of a tall tree and pulling them on, his movements harsh and aggravated.
“Only fools don’t fear the Lords, Dark or Light. Is that what I am to you, Tristell, a fool?”
She stopped her back scratching and approached him, a wide-eyed look on her beautiful face that Michael was beginning to question.
“You agreed that taking the magic away was a good idea. We killed a king because of it!”
His eyes narrowed, his hands clenching into fists at his side. “And yet I’m no closer to the Sorcerer throne. The kingdom has rallied behind the Sorceress despite her indiscretions.” He fixed her with a look that made her fold her arms over her chest. “And your people are concerned as well. I’d be surprised if the Peace Brokers aren’t all over this.”
Tristell’s face darkened like a sky during a thunderstorm. “Peace Brokers? You’re concerning yourself over those insects, those cowards? They do nothing but sit in shadows and whisper in corners! Besides, you knew what you were getting in to. You can’t collect honey without rattling a few beehives. Michael wanted to overthrow a kingdom, but now Michael is scared.”
His hand shot out and gripped her throat, but for all the darkness in his black eyes, the Fae Queen only stared back at him with the darkness in her own, her sharp teeth bared in both excitement and anger.
“I’m not scared,” Michael told her.
One of her fine eyebrows arched. “No, of course not. Of course Michael isn’t scared.”
Releasing a heavy breath, he freed his grip and rested his hands instead on her shoulders.
“Forgive me, my love,” he said.
Her sharp grin pulled up at one corner of her mouth, her slanted eyes glittering. “Don’t apologize, Michael. Kings do not apologize.”
She jerked out of his hold and spun on her heel, her long, multi-colored dress fluttering around her ankles. “Besides, I know what’s really plaguing Michael.” Her voice lowered to a near mocking tone. “I know what his real weakness is.”
“Watch your tongue, Tris,” he threatened.
“Or what?” she spat. “You’l
l cut it out? I know you Sorcerers are fond of doing that. And we both know it’s your precious Charlie-Boy who’s got your stomach all in knots. He’s the thing Michael is really worried about.”
“He’s my brother.”
“He betrayed you!”
“I betrayed him first!” He shouted back.
In the pastel colored canopies above, a bird or two took flight, and following the small sound of beating wings and fluttering leaves, the eerie silence of the Fae Forest hung over the place, making the thought that he’d never meant to speak aloud seem to hang in the air before him.
I betrayed him first.
Tristell scaled a large tree and perched on one of the lower branches, crouched the way a cat might, looking down at Michael with those ever-taunting slanted eyes, though there was no joke in them now.
Her magnificent wings were tucked behind her, the dark cobalt feathers ruffled in both the literal and the figurative sense. She stared down at him for so long that if Michael had a weaker poker face, he would have squirmed on his feet.
Instead, he only stared defiantly back at his crazy Faevian lover, the darkness in his own eyes reflected in hers. There was a devil sitting on both of their shoulders, constantly whispering of ill things, muttering bad omens on a loop that was so consistent it had become background music in their minds.
Though Michael was only dimly aware of it, for lack of want to see the true nature of things, this was what truly united the two—a common desire to wreak havoc wherever they went.
As far as Tristell the Fae Queen knew, this was what one called love.
But Michael had not always been black at heart. There had been a time, be it long ago, that he’d known true love, had received it, as well as given it.
And this thought, this brief, if completely earnest utterance of guilt, shook him down someplace deep and long unvisited within him. He could not deny its truth, not with it being in such plain sight.
