Shadowlander (Shadow Sisters)

by Theresa Meyers

“Rise,” Rook said with absolute authority. “We are only staying to refresh ourselves, Borgen. I need mounts and rations prepared. We travel to Seaneath immediately.”

  “Very good, Your Highness.” Borgen’s blue gaze hesitated on her for a moment, keen, observant. “And is there anything special your guest requires, Your Highness?”

  Rook glanced at Cate, a twinkle in his eye. “That depends on her.”

  Cate realized two things simultaneously. One, her suspicions about Rook were true—he wasn’t just any fae; he was in fact royalty. And two, she was hungry. Her interrupted lunch with Maya was long gone. While her stomach pinched uncomfortably, so did her memory.

  According to Gran, eating food in the fae realm was an iffy practice. Eat the wrong thing and you could easily be enchanted, unable to bear eating any normal food again. Cate wasn’t sure how much of that was her gran’s idea to discourage her granddaughters from crossing into the fae realm and how much of it was fact, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

  “I’m fine,” she lied. She was anything but fine. Half the day was gone. She still hadn’t seen Maya, let alone saved her, and her resistance to Rook’s magnetism was dwindling the longer she lingered in this strange world. He’d always had this effect on her. Cate had originally blamed her reaction to him on teenage hormones and the rush of having someone as physically appealing as Rook interested in her, but now that she was a grown woman, she understood there was far more happening between them than just raw attraction. His confidence, the easy way he bantered with her and made her feel as though she were the center of attention, all made her hyperaware she’d never met a human man like Rook. Which made him dangerous in ways Gran had never talked about.

  “A meal for both of us, Borgen, packed and ready to go in half an hour.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Rook took her hand in his, a firm, no-nonsense grip that didn’t hurt but also indicated he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Together they walked across the remaining lawn to the wide white marble steps that led to an open terrace.

  “Where are we going?” She hurried her steps to match his much-longer stride. They passed through a massive stone arch and Rook pushed open the wooden door that looked darkened with age. Cate took a mental note that it was banded not in iron, but in gold. Suddenly the rusted nails still in her pocket seemed a far more formidable weapon than she’d anticipated. If the iron were as poisonous to the fae as Gran claimed, she could scratch or stab with the nails if she needed to. Knowing she was armed eased the tipsy butterflies fluttering about in her stomach.

  The door opened into a tall entry hall topped with a stained-glass ceiling. Overhead, a crystal chandelier created from intertwined golden vines dripped diamond dew drops. Sunlight poured in through the stained glass and hit the crystals, sending jewel-toned spots of brilliant light dancing and shifting on the white marble floor, turning it into a sea of moving color. To the left a marble staircase swept up the side of the hall, where a second-story balcony looked down upon them.

  “We’re going to my apartments. If you aren’t hungry yet, let’s at least get you ready to travel.” His gaze, more of a physical caress than a mere glance, roamed over her bare legs, up to the hem of her skirt a couple inches above her knee. A flush of warmth raced along her skin in its wake. “As much as I like your clothing, I think you’ll be far more comfortable on a catamount if we get you some proper riding attire.” He started up the stairs, his hand still firmly latched onto hers.

  Cate wasn’t exactly sure what a catamount was, or if she should be scared of riding one. What she did know was that the look of pure desire that flared in Rook’s eyes when he mentioned stripping her out of her clothes made her skin seem to shrink a size, turning it tight and sensitive.

  He steered her down a long marble-floored hallway, their echoing footsteps hushed to a slight rustling by a thick, ornate carpet runner woven with a pattern of leaves in green and gold. The walls, lined with sage-colored silk, were punctuated with gilt doors and large paintings that felt more like windows, since their contents shifted and moved.

  Cate thought she saw a blinking pair of eyes amid the flowers in a large blue-and-white porcelain vase on the elegant hall table, but she couldn’t be sure. Nothing was quite as it seemed.

  “I thought fae were supposed to be more nature-based,” she murmured. The elegance and sheer size of the palace encouraged the hushed tones of a library or museum.

  Rook let out a humorless grunt. “Some of us are. The lower castes especially so. You’ll find, once you are here for a time, that there are distinct differences in fae, and not all of them are as keen to keep humanity around as the Ragnorian caste is. But you won’t have to worry about that much, being part of the Makcay.”

  “I’m sorry, part of what?”

  “The Makcay caste, the highest there is in the fae realm. As a Seer you are counted among those most revered and honored in our society. Those who bend the magick, see visions, and advise kings.”

  “No offense, but I’d rather be just a commoner back home with my sisters than be some kind of royalty in your world.”

  The moment the words left her lips, Cate had another thought. If the only reason she was in fae high society was because she was a Seer, what did that mean for Maya? Her footsteps stuttered. “And what if I weren’t a Seer? What if I were just some Uplander female, then what would happen to me?”

  Rook grimaced, as if the thought left a bad taste in his mouth. “Then you’d be part of the Drugar.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  Rook stopped and sighed, his gaze connecting with hers. The violent eruption of anger and determination behind his eyes made Cate catch her breath. “They are the slaves. Their existence is based on whim. To displease is death. They are pawns and property, nothing more.”

  Her chest contracted uncomfortably. She had to get to Maya. The sooner, the better. “How long before she’s put into the Drugar, or becomes a slave, or whatever you call it?”

  “It depends. Is she pleasing to look at?”

  Cate frowned, putting her hands on her hips. “What’s that got to do with it?”

  Rook’s lips twitched. “Everything. If she’s as pleasing to look at as you are, she’s being held in the dungeons at the capital palace until she is presented to the Shadow King. Once she’s been presented as a conquest for Midsummer’s Eve, she’ll be sent to the Ragnorian concubine quarters. If she isn’t, well, then she’ll go to the slave quarters for the Vaquin.”

  “Who are the Vaquin?”

  “Higher level fae, but those outside the ruling caste—like Borgen—who serve as our traders, artisans, and craftsmen.”

  “You mean the bobbleheads?”

  Rook frowned. “I suppose they do look like those silly bobbling idols you have.”

  Cate groaned and put her fingertips to the pounding ache beginning between her eyes. “Look, just for the sake of argument, let’s say my friend Maya is going to be a concubine. I’m assuming Kallus wouldn’t take her otherwise.”

  Rook shrugged. “True. It is Kallus.” His tone was underscored with a note of disgust.

  “Then what would we have to do to get her out of the dungeons?”

  He reached over and lightly grasped her hand, his thumb brushing rhythmically along the back of her fingers. “How do you know she wouldn’t like to be Kallus’s concubine?”

  Cate’s heartbeat sped up. “Is that what you are planning to do to me?” she asked, all subtlety gone. She needed to know.

  “No one can force a Makcay caste member such as yourself to mate with a Ragnorian, unless he is king. But if you chose, I could certainly be at your service.” A slow, seductive smile crossed his lips, reminding her precisely how his kiss warmed her to her toes.

  She shook off the memory before she did something stupid like take him up on his offer. “You didn’t answer my question. How do we get her out of the dungeons?”

  The desire in his eyes softened a touch. “You
really care for her, don’t you? Almost as much as you do your sisters.”

  That shocked her. Clearly he’d been watching her more intently that she’d realized. “This is strange enough for me, and I’ve been able to see the fae all my life. I can only imagine how freaked out she must be right now.”

  “If I help you free your friend, will you strike a bargain with me?”

  Cate drew back her shoulders, trying to make sure she was standing at her full height, which was still conspicuously shorter than him. “Depends on the terms of the bargain.”

  “All I ask in return is, if you are asked to pick a mate, choose me.”

  Her heart inched its way up into her throat. It wasn’t all that hard a decision to make. The devil you know or the one you don’t. She might have grown up being trained to fight against the fae, but at least Rook wouldn’t deliberately hurt her. Plus, he was gorgeous.

  But the reality was she had no plans to stick around and make any kind of choice like that. The first chance she got, she was getting Maya the hell out of faery world and going home. “Do you promise to help me free her if I choose you?” Gran had said that once a promise was given by a fae, they didn’t break it, especially the promises they made to come back and get you.

  He gave a firm nod of his head.

  “Then, if I have to choose, yes, I’ll pick you.” The words slipped easily enough off her tongue. She’s said if. That covered a lot of possibilities in between.

  A smug smile curved his mouth for an instant, but then vanished. Rook opened the large gold double doors at the end of the hallway and gestured her inside with a sweep of his muscular arm. “This way.”

  The room was far larger than anything Cate had expected. Huge windows spanned one whole wall, looking out over the iridescent turquoise sea. A huge four-poster bed that easily could have accommodated half a dozen people, all of them as big as Rook, occupied the opposite wall, positioned to look out at the glorious view.

  The door clicked shut. Cate glanced over her shoulder. “This is your bedroom, isn’t it?”

  A feral gleam in his eye was her only answer.

  Rook moved so quickly he was beside her from one blink to the next. He looked down, his warm breath against her cheek, close enough that the rosemary, mint, and clean male scent of him filled her airspace, giving her no option but to be aware of him and just how near his mouth was to hers.

  “Hey, I didn’t say anything about being your mate before we free Maya.”

  He gave her a devastating grin. Her body throbbed in response. “Who said anything about mating? I brought you here so you could change your clothing for our trip to save your friend, remember?”

  The warm weight of his hands came to rest on either side of her neck, his thumbs tracing the edges of her jaw. His kiss was slow and sensual as he ran his hands over her. They caressed her shoulders, down the swell of her breasts, past the indention of her waist, and to the flair of her hips. Cate gasped. It was kind of hard to think of anything with him touching her so intimately.

  “I think I have something that should fit your form,” he murmured against her lips. Parts of Cate throbbed so hard, she thought maybe she had more than one heartbeat. He moved away, advancing on a large, elaborately carved double-wide wardrobe with two full-length mirrors on the front of it.

  Rook reached in and pulled out a long skirt in soft brown suede, a shimmering ivory silk shirt, and what reminded Cate of a duster from the old West. It was fashioned from plush burgundy velvet with a brown fur collar. He brought the garments to her, spreading them out on the bed. It turned out the skirt wasn’t really a skirt at all, but a pair of wide-legged suede pants with four panels coming down from the waist that gave it the look and swing of a skirt. It was too bad there weren’t any panties. She could have used a new set, seeing as hers were damp.

  “Would you like me to have a servant come and dress you, or would you prefer my help?”

  Cate swallowed hard. Neither. She didn’t want some strange fae watching her strip down, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever get into the fresh clothing if she let him help her.

  “I’m a big girl. I think I can dress myself,” she replied.

  He shrugged and leaned against one of the treelike posts holding the canopy of dark green velvet over the massive bed.

  Cate snatched up the clothing. “Where’s the dressing room?”

  Rook looked around. “This room is not large enough?”

  A blush fired her cheeks. “I didn’t realize you expected me to put on a show.”

  A predatory look flared deep in his gaze. “I offered to help.”

  Something in Cate snapped from the tension simmering in the air between them, creating erratic sparks like static electricity. Fine. If he wanted to stand there and watch, let him. She could dish it out just as well as he could.

  Cate dipped her chin and gave him a sultry gaze from beneath her lashes, then tugged the edges of her blouse from her skirt and slowly began unbuttoning it. First she showed the lace-edged valley between her breasts, then the smooth skin of her belly. His eyes dilated in response, the black growing large enough to almost swallow the chocolate-colored irises.

  She turned her back toward him and let the blouse slip off her shoulders. The material slithered down her arms and fell to the floor. The curtains at the windows billowed up as a warm breeze scented with salt and sea caressed her bare skin. For the first time, Cate felt deliciously wanton. She didn’t have to occupy half of herself with deliberately ignoring the fae, didn’t have to keep her reactions in check so as not to reveal her ability. For a moment she was utterly free to do exactly as she pleased.

  Cate unbuttoned the back of her skirt and unzipped it, then slid her hands up along her sides, around the outer edges of her breasts, and to her neck, threading her fingers through her own hair as she rocked her hips side to side, letting the short skirt shimmy down around her ankles. She glanced over her shoulder, the dark curls of her bob bouncing with the movement. “This more what you had in mind?”

  Chapter Five

  Rook could barely breathe, let alone respond. He didn’t know if the buzzing, light-headed feeling spreading from his head to the rest of his body was because he wasn’t getting enough oxygen or because all he could manage to focus on was the smooth length of Cate’s bare legs. They were naked all the way up to her bottom. A mere scrap of dark blue material stretched over, but didn’t cover, her peachy curves.

  He swallowed hard as she straightened and stepped out of her skirt, then pivoted on one foot so that she now faced him clothed only in her bra and panties. His fantasies didn’t do her justice. Every good intention, every self-made promise to keep his hands off her until she chose him and to do his forsworn duty, went flying out the window on leathery Glaxon wings.

  She reached for the shirt on the bed.

  “Wait!”

  Her hand froze mid-motion, her vivid green gaze flicking up to meet his, the sultry siren quality of her voice stripping away the last of his sanity. “Do you want something?”

  That was quite possibly the understatement of the century.

  Morgolath had a special Hell for fae who reached above their caste, but for a chance with Cate, Rook was willing to face the gods’ wrath. For a split second Rook forgot everything he knew about interspecies relations. Forgot he was a proud member of the elite Ragnor caste. Forgot he was the Shadow Prince, heir to the throne of Shadowland.

  All that mattered, all his brain could wrap itself around, was the sight of the barely clad Catherine a few steps away, her supple skin and feminine curves so enticing, he trembled with barely leashed need. He’d stayed to intimidate her into realizing this world wasn’t her own and that the rules here were different. But she’d turned that upside down and inside out with just a few moves of her nimble fingers on the fasteners of her garments. He wanted her in a way that bordered on physical pain.

  “Yes.” It was about all he could coherently speak when she had his tongue tied in knots. He
moved quicker than the mortal eye could track, wrapping his hands around her waist and hauling her up against him, indulging in the feel of her soft, sensual body against his. The heat of her bare skin seeped through his clothing to singe him everywhere it touched. His senses filled with the spicy sweet smell of her skin and the fragrant brush of her hair against his face.

  Rook locked his gaze with hers. His jaw throbbed from how hard he was clenching his teeth. “Tell me if you don’t want this,” he growled low between his teeth. “Tell me and I shall stop.”

  Cate’s elevated breathing caused her breasts to brush against his chest in a maddeningly erratic rhythm that made his own breath catch. “Why should I?” she demanded, eyes glittering with heat and—dare he believe it?—desire. “Maybe I’ve wanted you longer than you realize.”

  Rook crushed his mouth against hers, tearing away first the scraps of lace and satin that kept him from his goal, and then his own clothing. He filled one hand with the warm, silken weight of her breast, teasing the rigid tip of it with his thumb. A low groan echoed in the back of her throat as she arched up against him, seeking more.

  The hard length of his aching verge rubbed against the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs. He cupped the rounded flesh of her bottom, his fingers sliding until they connected with the slick, wet heat of her that smelled of willing female, cinnamon spice, and sweet vanilla. Cate bucked against his hand, her fingertips digging into his chest, her soft hood parting to accommodate the tip of his shaft as his fingers delved deeply into her core. She moaned.

  His mind went into a blank haze filled only with the small sounds she made, the texture and scent of Cate, pulsing like a brilliant light behind his eyes, filling his whole body with a driving need to claim her for his own.

  A knock at the door shattered the moment. Cate pushed back, panting hard, her cheeks flushing from the pink of pleasure to the scarlet of embarrassment in an instant.

  What in the name of Morgolath am I doing? The thought hit Rook square between the eyes. He wanted Cate in a way that burned fire through his veins, but he didn’t dare. The woman must have a magick more powerful than he’d ever encountered before to make him forsake his duty and honor so easily for her touch.