by Anya Bast
“The one we sent is someone we trust implicitly, someone with highly specialized skills. You must understand that trust is very important, especially right now. The man we sent would not appreciate someone showing up who he doesn’t know, no matter how helpful you could be in this situation. In fact, we’re pretty sure he would act violently toward your presence.”
“I can handle violent men. Send me. I want to help. I’m desperate to help. I need these walls broken.” Lie, lie, lie.
The king and the queen shared a brief look. Then the Shadow King caught and held his gaze. “Look, Liam, thanks for offering your help. We might take it, but not quite yet. I understand you’ll be staying here with us for a while?”
He gave a curt nod, his teeth grinding. This was his dismissal.
The Shadow King nodded back. “Good. Then we know where to find you in the event we need your help.”
Not good enough.
FUCK. He didn’t want to hurt her.
Niall entered the living room where Elizabeth was tied to a straight-backed chair and blindfolded. She’d let him do it, hadn’t fought him a moment. It made guilt well up inside him hard enough to give him chest pains. He didn’t want to see her suffer, this woman, yet the easiest thing would be to torture the information out of her. That’s what the Shadow Queen expected of him. Torture was what he’d intended from the beginning.
He couldn’t do it.
Striding past her, he went into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, bowing his head. Damn it. He wished the queen had sent someone else to do this job. His brother, Ronan. Anyone. Yet he suspected he knew why he’d been selected. Sure, it had to do with his special arsenal of skills, but she’d picked him for another reason, too—his compassion.
The Shadow Queen had known he would use restraint when another of the Unseelie might hurt her so badly she died before she gave up the location of the pieces. Niall was unlikely to do that.
But it was his compassion that was tying him in knots right now.
He shouldn’t care about this woman. He should be willing to do whatever it took to get what he’d come for, yet one look from her big green eyes and he was toast.
That’s why he’d blindfolded her.
“I can hear you, Niall.” Her voice sounded steady and strong when it should have had a tremor of fear running through it. “Why don’t you just come over here and do it?”
He turned and rubbed a hand over his face. “Last chance. Tell me what I need to know so I can set you free.”
“Sorry. That’s not going to happen.”
“Screw your stubbornness, Elizabeth.” His voice came out bitter and cold.
“Come give it your best shot, Niall, but you’ll fail.” Ah, now he could hear a note of fear in her voice. It was nice to know the woman wasn’t made of stone. Maybe he would be able to reach past her defenses after all.
He pulled up a chair facing her and took her hands in his. For a moment, he studied her. Her long red hair lay tangled over her shoulders, dark against the creamy paleness of her skin, like garnets and gold woven into silk. Her full lips trembled just the slightest bit, and her hands were cold.
She was worried about what he was about to do—and she should be.
He could just make out the dusting of freckles across her nose under the blindfold. They reminded him of cinnamon. He had an urge to count them, commit every last one to his memory.
After all, he would carry this woman with him forever after this was over. He would never forget her, would never go even a day without thinking of her.
He almost didn’t do it, but couldn’t stop himself in the end. It was a mistake and he knew it, but how often in his life had he knowingly made a mistake? Too often to count. So, he went ahead and made another one.
Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers.
She jolted with surprise in her seat, but didn’t pull back.
Leisurely, he tasted her mouth, exploring those full lips by brushing his mouth over them slow and then even slower. Her fingers, twined with his, curled tighter and the softest noise escaped her throat. Her lips worked, kissing him back. Her tongue flicked out against his mouth, and a slow shiver crawled up his spine.
Dragging his hand up to the nape of her neck, he slanted his mouth across hers and parted her lips, sliding his tongue inside. His tongue tangled with hers and she made another soft noise, her tongue rubbing up against his and making his heart beat out a crazy rhythm. A warm, salty tear slid into his mouth, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if it was hers or his.
Breaking the kiss, he rocked back, staring at her. Tear tracks snaked down her cheeks. His mouth was still filled with the taste of her—like wild, cold water from a stream.
“That was my first kiss.” Raising her bound hands, she wiped at her cheeks with her fingers. “It was beautiful.”
Surprise rocked through him. With any other woman he would take that for a lie—a desperate survivor’s ploy—but he believed Elizabeth.
“Too bad it had to come from the man who is about to torture you.” His voice came out leaden.
The small smile she wore faded. “Yes, that’s bad luck, isn’t it? Maybe a different time, a different place.”
“With different stakes between us.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
He forced himself up and stalked to the other end of the room where he punched the wall, driving his fist through a layer of drywall. He wanted to think she was playing him.
But she wasn’t.
Leaning his head against the wall and cradling his throbbing fist, he took a few deep breaths. Then he turned and walked back to her.
It was time.
ELIZABETH brushed her lips with the back of her hand and felt another teardrop land on her thigh. She wished she could be stronger than this and not cry. She wished she wasn’t selfishly thinking of herself right now and the fact she was probably about to experience a lot of pain.
She wished it wasn’t Niall who was about to deliver it.
Most of all, she wished she could live out the rest of her life, see her mother again, maybe even have another kiss like the one she’d just experienced. Yet she knew that was not to be her fate, not in this lifetime.
From somewhere across the room she heard a thump—like a fist hitting a wall. She jumped at the sound and the series of low curses that followed it. Clearly Niall didn’t want to do this anymore than she wanted him to do it.
But she knew he would anyway.
After a few moments, Niall sat down opposite her and took her hands. This time the gentleness was gone. Now he meant business. Her body tensed as she waited for whatever torture he had in store for her. She had to endure it. She had to stay strong.
His hands gripped hers a degree harder and magick tickled her palms, skittering up her arms and through her shoulders. A small sound of fear rose in her throat and she swallowed it, her face screwing up with bitterness. Inch by inch the magick he wove around her reached deeper within, permeating every molecule of her body. It didn’t hurt, not yet. Her muscles went tense, her jaw locked tight, teeth grinding, as she anticipated pain.
When was it coming? What was he going to do…?
She stood in a moonlit clearing. Her blindfold had been removed. The cottage was gone. Niall was gone. She looked down at her hands. The rope that had bound them together had disappeared.
What had happened? Had she somehow dissolved even with the charmed iron on her?
No. That was impossible. Anyway, she was dressed. Looking down at herself, she saw she wore a pair of loose pants, the ones she favored, with her favorite soft navy shirt. She lifted one bare foot and saw that no cuff bound her ankle.
Above her the moon shone through a few scudding clouds. Lifting her face to it, she raised her arms, feeling the stretch of her muscles. She felt wonderful without that charmed iron touching her skin.
Stepping to the edge of the clearing, she reoriented herself. Ah. She was near one of her gardens! And her ATV was p
arked under the elm tree, just where she always left it. Hurrying over to her patch, she retrieved her basket and began to harvest ripe peas, tomatoes, and green beans. She could deliver them to Abertha, Sioned, and Donnell tonight.
As she picked, she wondered why she’d been standing in the middle of that clearing so confused. She’d come from her mother’s house tonight, right? Yes, she remembered now. She’d stopped to see her mother first, after she’d woken in the late afternoon, before heading out to check her gardens, just as she did every night.
Niall…
The name breathed through her mind in her own voice, making her stop and raise her head. It almost sounded like a warning, but it was so far off. Who was Niall?
Frowning, she shook her head and went back to work. A pity she’d forgotten her seedlings from home. She’d have to go back for them before dawn and replant to ensure another crop tomorrow night.
When she’d finished collecting all the vegetables, she picked up her basket, intending to make her rounds, and secured it in the storage bin on the back of her ATV. Her ATV started with a roar, then settled into a kittenish purr, and she guided it down the narrow pathway that led away from the garden, headed to the next growing patch.
She spent her evening like she did any other evening, harvesting her fruits and vegetables, planting more, and delivering her food to those nature fae who needed it. Donnell was her last stop. He gave her a loaf of fresh baked bread in return for the vegetables, something she’d pass on to Marilynn, an elderly sylph who lived not far from her.
After she’d left Donnell’s small cottage deep in the northern part of the Boundary Lands, she walked to her ATV, smoke curling from the chimney behind her, thinking about the pieces of the bosca fadbh. Cold fear crept up her spine at the thought someone would find out she was hiding them. The Shadow Queen would certainly discover her identity sooner or later, probably sooner. She’d send someone after her, maybe more than one someone.
And the Shadow Queen wouldn’t send just any fae—she’d send Unseelie.
She felt confident in her ability to escape almost any fae, but who knew the magickal capabilities of the hunter the queen would send? It made her doubt herself. Worse, it made her doubt the hiding location of the pieces.
Maybe she should move them, just to be safe.
Deciding that was exactly the best course of action, she mounted her ATV, stuck the loaf of bread in the storage compartment, and started it up. She headed away from Donnell’s, directing her path through the trees with the stars shining bright above, headed for her hiding spot in the clearing.
Yet…something niggled.
Somewhere in a far-off part of her mind something tickled.
Told her not to go to the clearing. Dangerous. Threatening. Someone was watching.
Waiting.
Niall…
She slowed the ATV to a halt and sat, engine idling, as she cradled her aching head in her hands.
Don’t do it, breathed the voice in the back of her mind.
Beware, Niall…
Suddenly, she remembered.
Elizabeth dragged in a ragged breath, as though bursting through the surface of the ocean after diving deep. She was back in the cabin, tied to the chair, the charmed iron still banding her ankle.
She’d never been outside this building. Not once. It had all been an incredibly real illusion.
Ripping her hands from Niall’s grip, she reached up and tore the blindfold from her eyes. She stared at him, breath coming fast and labored, eyes wide, mouth open. Her mind stuttered, trying to comprehend what he’d done to her.
Niall leaned back and half closed his eyes. “Welcome to the world of magicked illusion, Elizabeth. How do you like it?”
She sputtered for a moment, unable to form a thought, let alone words. Standing, she immediately remembered the unfortunate fact that her ankles were bound. She went down hard.
Niall was there in an instant, rolling her over and asking if she was all right. He was such a considerate torturer.
“No, I’m not all right,” she managed to say while he untied her hands and feet. “What the hell was that?”
He rocked back on his heels and studied her as she lay sprawled on her side. “That’s just one of the many facets of my magick. I told you there was a reason they sent me and only me.” He raised his dark brows and smiled his cocky little smile. “Impressed?”
She pushed up to a sitting position and watched him move to a nearby chair. She’d known his magick was different from any other fae’s magick, but she’d never expected him to be able to take reality and just re-form it that way, like putty in his hands. He’d catapulted her into a dreamworld that was almost as real as her waking one, made her forget the last two weeks had ever even happened. He’d thrust her clear back to the beginning, right after she’d taken the pieces from the Summer Queen.
It was a complete and total mind fuck.
She’d nearly led him right to the hiding place. Which, of course, had been his plan.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “How far were you into my head? Could you read my thoughts?”
“I only wish. That would make things easier, but all I do is create the world and its parameters. I set the stage, but you fill it with information from your subconscious. Once in, I see everything you see. It’s like being in a shared dream.” His grin widened. “You almost led me to your hiding spot. I know you did.”
She bolted to her feet, shooting him a look of daggers. “Almost. I didn’t do it. I caught you.”
“Your subconscious is very strong. It warned you.” He leaned back against the headrest behind him, stretching like a cat. “Don’t worry, eventually I’ll reach even the darkest, most hidden parts of your mind. Eventually, I’ll win.”
He’d come really close to winning this time.
She looked down at her hands; they were shaking. Pain she could endure, but this? It was only at the very last second that sense had broken through. How could she fight against this?
Fisting her trembling hands at her sides, she stared down at him. “I figured out you were in my head once, and I can do it again. Don’t be so sure of your success.” Even now the charmed iron was making her grow weaker, but that worked in two ways. It served to make her less sure of success, but it also limited his time. She glanced down at the cuff. “I think I can hold you off long enough.”
He was on her in a flash, pushing her back. She tripped over the edge of the couch and went down into the cushions. He followed her. His body was strong and warm on hers, and immediately the memory of the kiss flooded her mind.
His lips were only a breath’s space from hers as he spoke. “I can make you believe anything with my magick, Elizabeth. I can create heaven or hell. I can make you imagine the worst kind of pain or give the best pleasure. I can bring your nightmares to life.” He paused, his gaze fiercely focused on her eyes. “Don’t make me take the dark path.”
Her tongue dry and her eyes wide, she returned his gaze as coolly as she could with his huge body pinning hers. “I thought we went over this already. I’m not making you do anything.”
He pushed up and away from her, dragging a hand through his hair as he turned from her.
She sat up. “I will resist you to my dying breath, Niall. I will force you to take every black road you don’t want to travel before this is over.”
Half turning toward her, he said, “Then I need to protect you from yourself…and from me.” With that, he was striding toward the door.
It slammed behind him, leaving her alone.
SEVEN
NIALL pulled his SUV up in front of the house where Elizabeth had done her last delivery in the mind scene he’d created for her. He recognized the place from following her around. Certainly this had been the point in the scene when she’d been ready to lead him to the pieces, so maybe that meant the pieces were hidden around here somewhere.
He knew it was a long shot. She had the ability to travel anywhere she wanted within the
bounds of Piefferburg with her ability. The logic that had led him here to search was pretty fucking flimsy.
But he was desperate. Every lead, no matter how thin, needed to be followed so he could avoid hurting Elizabeth.
He parked the SUV and stepped out into the early evening air. The small stone cottage up the narrow lane needed repair. Two of the shutters were gone, another was falling off, and several of the shingles on the roof were broken. Weeds choked the base of the building, vines climbing the crumbling walls.
This was one of Elizabeth’s hard-luck cases. He started circling the area, checking under rocks, behind bushes, peering up into the trees. The pieces probably weren’t anywhere near here, but it gave him an excuse to be away from Elizabeth for a little while—away from her beautiful, accusing eyes and the horrible temptation she presented.
He’d never thought he was the type of man to take advantage of a woman in his care. He wasn’t exactly caring for her, of course, but she was still in his keeping, vulnerable to him. It was wrong how much he wanted her. It was wrong that he thought about her constantly, fantasized about taking her on the dining room table. It was wrong how often he had to draw back from touching her. He wanted her spread beneath him, wanted to taste her—wanted to make her come over and over.
That made him the worst kind of predatory bastard.
He stopped for a moment and breathed the cool evening air deep into his lungs over and over, the bark of the tree he leaned against rough on his palm. He needed to get this woman out of his head somehow. Maybe a trip back to the Black Tower and the welcoming arms of someone else would help, but he didn’t have time for that.
“Hello, who is that? Elizabeth? Is that you?”
At the sound of the old man’s voice, Niall stepped out into a shaft of silvery moonlight. “No, it’s not Elizabeth, sir, but I’m a friend of hers.” In the mind scene, Elizabeth had called him Donnell.
He was a Fir Darrig, one of the fae who were helpful to humans who became lost in faery. They also partied a lot and liked their whiskey. This one was ancient, probably had been ancient when Piefferburg had been created. His partying days were long over, although, by the smell of him, not his whiskey drinking days.
