Harlequin Nocturne May 2015 Box Set: Wolf HunterPossessed by a Wolf

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  And he wouldn’t. Maurice’s solo wound on, sobbing and moaning like a heartbroken siren. The pitch of the guitar climbed higher and higher, stabbing knives right through Lexie’s earplugs. Ambrose pushed through the audience toward his creatures, but they were already streaming for the door. A monitor popped a mountain of sparks, fountaining white light into the air—but the band played on.

  Oblivious, Maurice threw back his head and screamed, his instrument coughing a snarl of distortion as the rest of the musicians jumped in, bringing the song home with a pumping, caveman bass. It might have been the bass that did it, because one by one the fetches shuddered and drooped, like candles melting into puddles of wax. Then, they each popped in a wet, sloppy shower of goo. The audience members shrank away, disgusted, outraged and horrifically delighted.

  The newspapers trumpeted the event as the dawn of a new era of interactive special effects. The sales of Maurice’s album tripled overnight.

  Chapter 24

  “So, you’re telling me that while I ran around rooftops chasing one lousy fetch, risking my life and getting hacked with a silver blade, you just shut the doors to the concert hall and let Maurice reduce the fey army to quivering jelly?” Faran grumbled.

  “Pretty much,” she said.

  That was unreasonably smug in his opinion. “What did this Ambrose guy do?”

  “Vanished in the aftermath.”

  Faran huffed. “Probably wanted his ticket refunded, too.”

  He pulled out the piece of paper he’d taken from the anti-Kyle’s wallet. The palace grounds were dark, but werewolves could see fine on a clear night like this.

  “I suppose there are more fetches around, but at least it stopped whatever they were doing this afternoon. What do you think that was?” Lexie asked.

  He studied the sketch and shook his head. Fetches were amazing replicas of human originals, all things considered, but they were also kind of dumb when it came to carrying supersecret plans in their pockets.

  “Faran?” Lexie asked again.

  He didn’t answer. According to Valois, there had been an additional request for added security at the concert made around the same time Lexie and Ambrose had disappeared into the building. It was likely that one reason the fetches were there was to make sure she never left. But without knowing for certain, he wasn’t going to put that thought in her head. The fetches were dead and she was safe by his side.

  Even more curious, no one in the Company seemed to know the identity of Lexie’s mysterious stranger. That was worrisome, too, but again he wasn’t going to add to Lexie’s anxieties.

  Instead, he turned to the papers in his hand. “Exhibit A, a map of the palace maze, complete with little red dots indicating the points of the compass. Exhibit B, a token to tomorrow’s fireworks display. Exhibit C, a brochure with a map of the palace.”

  Lexie fell for his dodge. “Sounds like a treasure hunt. All you need is a few old rusty keys and a list of items to find.”

  “Kyle’s double was going to be at tomorrow’s event, and something will be happening in the maze.” He looked at the curving walls of tall hedges. “I just have no idea what.”

  They wandered between the hedges, only the half-moon above for illumination. The white gravel paths looked ghostly, but the air was instantly warmer. Some of it was the fact that it was sheltered, but there was something unusual about the place. It had been built on the site of an old stone circle much like the one where he and Lexie had gone for a picnic. And just like there, the temperature here was always warmer than in the surrounding landscape.

  That should have encouraged visitors, but the patrol never entered the maze at night, citing a host of spirit sightings and strange events. Perhaps it was an ancient spell, or a haunting, or nothing at all, but Faran thought it was worth investigating.

  Or, at least it was a good excuse for a late-night ramble in the one truly sheltered spot on the palace grounds. It was the first night that was even close to warm, and his wolf needed some outdoors time. Faran spread out the blanket they had brought.

  “So what do you think,” he said. “A good place for a fey ritual?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Lexie gave him a haunted look.

  She hadn’t taken the news about her family’s connection to the fey all that well, and nothing could be proved until her blood was tested by the Company labs. Still, Faran wished he’d described the fey in a more positive light. To be honest, he hadn’t really examined his own feelings about her father’s heritage.

  “Do you want to talk about the fey thing right now?” he asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Okay.”

  He caught her and pushed her against the broad trunk of the tree. Rough bark teased the palms of his hands as his lips met her cool, smooth mouth. Wind rushed in the trees above them, fingering their hair and clothes and bathing them in the sound of wild places. The scent of the sea teased his nose, winding through the rich scent of woman.

  It made sense to him that Lexie was part fey. It was not just her cream-and-fire coloring or her love of beauty, but her whole being had always carried the glow of wild magic. And yet she was also wholly human. Her heart and mind had none of the remote strangeness of the fairy people. She had been formed of the best of both.

  She kissed him back, igniting the rage of hunger in his blood. Not a hunger for food, but for her. He drank in the sweetness of her mouth, the delicate taste of her tongue and the sharp contrast of teeth. She nipped at his lips, teasing lightly, inviting him to explore.

  His hands slid around her ribs, all but encircling her waist. Her snug white blouse—praise the stars—was fastened with a zipper instead of buttons, and it was a moment’s work to undo it. And then there was silken skin to contrast with the cool air and ancient bark. He bent to kiss the curve of breast resting in the lace cups of her bra, like a feast in delicate serving ware. Her nipple hardened, and he sucked it through the silk. She tasted of a floral perfume. Gods help him, he was lost in a symphony of textures and tastes.

  And then her hands were on him, spurred by his encouragement. His clothes came off quickly—shape-shifters had lots of practice getting naked. She raked her nails through his hair, tracing his beard and the line of his lips. Her lips were on his throat and then his on her other breast while he kneaded them, teasing the nipples to hard, ecstatic points. Slowly, his tongue and lips traveled the long line of her slender body, following the valley between her breasts down to the cleft of her ribs, and across the planes of her belly to her navel. He slid her jeans and panties down her hips, easing them off as he nibbled the delicate flesh on the inside of her thigh. She smelled of musk and peach, summer and desire, and as he worked she grew damp with anticipation, shifting skittishly as she laced her fingers in his hair.

  He worked until she shuddered, cursing softly to the night. He ran his hands up her body, bringing fresh trembling to her limbs. She pressed into him, stealing his warmth and raising it at once as sensation crowded low in his belly. He nuzzled her neck, burying his face in the sweetly scented cascades of her hair. There were private places he loved—the nest of silky flesh below her ear, the hollow of her collarbone, the lean architecture just below her jaw. By the time he’d visited half of them, he was hard as adamant.

  And then it was her turn to slide down his body, her red hair like a separate living thing sliding over his skin. It made him think of blood, or rose petals, or a blanket of fire, but always Lexie. Her fingers were soft but strong, the way tender plants will eventually crumble stone. He was a wall, a monument, and yet she brought him to dust every time.

  Her mouth on his belly brought a sound to his lips somewhere between a prayer and a curse. Then she was tasting him, teasing and probing with her tongue. She could always find the spot... Faran cursed as he nearly lost it, barely holding on through the onslaught of torture. He
had fallen against the tree, letting it hold him up as she worked her magic. Anyone who doubted the existence of the supernatural hadn’t spent time with Lexie Haven at the top of her game.

  When she’d brought him to the brink of madness she backed away, her eyes shining with wickedness. She spun with her arms overhead, faint moonlight sketching her limbs as she collapsed in a graceful heap on the blanket.

  Faran’s mind grew suddenly clear and still, as if she was the only thing in the universe worth watching. People thought of wolves as savage. No, they were simply certain. No fuss, no muss, just a single, nonnegotiable target. With pure, mindful intent, he prowled to the blanket. She was his.

  He let her slip on the condom, her touch just adding to his urgency. Then he drove into her, the sensation nearly more than he could endure. She was tight and hot, her slender pale body arching beneath him with every thrust.

  And then he felt the magic of the maze coursing beneath them, a serpent coiling and rolling like a beast. He’d never felt magic the way fey experienced it, but this was strong. It coursed through his body with an electric, dazzling pulse, as if he was part of the place itself. He drove into Lexie, feeling the answering surge of her power. She was a white-hot fire of need, of pride and untapped potential. The maze felt her power, knew it for kin. Their sensitized skin tingled, the buzz of magic adding to the myriad sensations of lovemaking. Lexie cried out as his thrusts quickened. The air around them crackled with energy. Power bit his skin like hungry teeth, the skin of his shoulders and back burned with it.

  He slowed his pace a moment, holding on to his control with all his will, and bent to suckle Lexie’s breasts. The power surged, swirling through her. She writhed beneath him, scoring his back in her madness. The pain sang through him, joining the needling power on the edge between pleasure and discomfort.

  And then his mind blanked, his focus narrowed to the one task at hand. Lexie’s pleasure pulsed around him, hot and thick and urgent. She cried his name, possibly the only word he’d recognize right then and he thrust deep again, and spilled his desire deep into her.

  Reason was slow to come back to him, but it came with the delicious scent of grass and green and Lexie. She was cuddled next to him, the edge of the blanket drawn over her. He folded her in his arms, thankful that the rough-and-tumble of love play was no longer a source of anxiety for her. She trusted him enough to let him hold her tight. He let the gift soak through him for a moment, a delight and a balm.

  With his wolf’s sight, he could see a faint light clinging to her, as if a dusting of energy had stuck. “You feel this place?” he asked.

  “Mmm,” she replied. “It’s like I’ve had one of those energy drinks. I’m all buzzy.” She rolled over with a feline stretch. It did interesting things to her breasts, and his hand wandered to investigate. She swatted it aside and rolled into him, propping herself on his chest. “Is that why no one comes in here at night?”

  “People feel things, they don’t recognize it, and they find reasons to keep out. It’s sensible from a survival standpoint.” There was something to be harnessed here, if the mythical Five wanted a ritual. Not that they would get one—he’d see to that.

  She rested her cheek on his shoulder, her eyes drifting shut. “It feels amazing, like the earth is talking.”

  He stroked her arm, a little in awe of that. “What’s it saying?”

  Her hand slid down his hip, and let the earth’s thoughts be known.

  Chapter 25

  “How do you deal with it?” Lexie asked Faran the next day.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, looking up from studying the map of the maze he’d taken from the anti-Kyle’s wallet. He was sprawled on the sunlit bed wearing nothing but blue jeans, his bare feet crossed at the ankles. An unreasoning fondness washed through her. As well as all the explosive sex, she just plain liked his company.

  Lexie looked down at her camera, chewing her lip. She was sitting on the end of the bed and fiddling with her lenses, not actually doing anything useful except keeping her hands busy. Her nerves prickled from lack of sleep and too much coffee. “Not being human.”

  A veil dropped over his expression so quickly, she knew she’d hit a nerve and regretted it. “I’ve never been anything but a werewolf,” he muttered. “I don’t know any different.”

  “I don’t know what to think about being half fey. It’s not something I even wondered about before now.”

  He set the paper aside, giving her his full attention. “So you’re convinced it’s true?”

  Lexie hadn’t had much time to think about it since their picnic in the mountains. They’d been in a state of nonstop emergency. Still, some part of her subconscious had been dealing with it, because she’d woken up today convinced it was fact. “I’ll get a blood test, like you say, but I felt something again last night.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “Besides you.” She grinned. “Although you were definitely front and center of my thoughts at the time.”

  Faran crawled across the bed and sat beside her, shoulder to shoulder. The warmth of his bare skin touched her through the light fabric of her blouse. “Good to know.”

  He was trying to distract her, to put her in a better frame of mind, but she was on a train of thought she didn’t want to lose. “The fey thing makes me wonder about my family. However much I tried to tell myself I was over my past, I was a victim back then right up until the moment I walked away. But they might have been victims, too. It doesn’t change what happened, but I might be able to forgive a lot more now.” She set the camera down. “I should visit my mom. Maybe she’ll talk to me if I know some of the story already.”

  “That would probably make it easier for her to talk about your father.”

  She met Faran’s eyes. His were troubled. She knew going home wouldn’t be easy, and no doubt he guessed that, too. “What do you think happened to my dad after he ran off?”

  He sighed, leaning back on his elbows. “Hard to say. If his bloodline closed the gates on the Dark Fey, then he’s their enemy.”

  Which meant this plot they’d uncovered was probably the culmination of something that had been going on for a long time. She imagined her dad, a young father, faced with a huge, implacable, magical enemy. He’d made sacrifices she couldn’t fathom. “So Ambrose wasn’t my dad’s friend at all. Not that I ever thought he was. He’s just too creepy.”

  “Is Haven your father’s name or your stepfather’s?”

  “Dad’s. His name was Therriel Haven.” The name felt odd on her lips. It had been years since she’d said it.

  “It sounds like a Light Fey name, though I’m not an expert.”

  Lexie’s hands moved restlessly in her lap. “So far no one has said he’s dead. I want to find him.”

  “Lexie.” Faran sat forward, taking her hand. “I know this is hard to hear, but he may not want to be found.”

  “I’m his daughter!” she protested. “I finally understand he’s in trouble. He shouldn’t be alone.”

  “I think he left, just like your stranger at the concert said, to draw the enemy away from his family. Not just that, but to prevent the gates from being unlocked. Ambrose is trying to work around his absence, but by disappearing your father has managed to delay the process by years. Until this is over, don’t look for him. You could lead Ambrose straight to him.” Faran leaned his forehead against hers. “Trust me when I say no father would willingly stay away from a daughter like you, so his reasons must be very, very good.”

  Lexie knew he was trying to comfort her, but for once it wasn’t working. “Leaving him out there alone doesn’t feel right.”

  He slid an arm around her. “It won’t be long. With Kyle and Amelie working together on behalf of the two kingdoms, it’s not going to be a case of the Company versus the Knights any longer.”

&
nbsp; “How does that matter?”

  “Nobody wants the Dark Fey out of the box. They’re a big enough threat that vampires and slayers will be on the same team against them, and that’s going to be a brick wall not even the Dark Court can crack. We can beat them.”

  “And how is the wedding connected with this?”

  Faran rubbed his eyes, as if fighting weariness. He was more than human, but it had been a hard week. “If I’m right, the fey have been leveraging the Company’s war with the Knights of Vidon, stirring up enough trouble to distract us from their own activities. Those efforts have stepped up since Marcari and Vidon have been working toward unification by marriage. The other Horsemen have some stories to tell.”

  Lexie frowned. “But the wedding itself is just a ceremony.”

  “A ceremony is a ritual. Magic is all about rituals. Don’t underestimate the power of vows when the scions of ancient houses are on board. It’s not all corsages and champagne.”

  Lexie leaned against Faran. “And so you think they’re going to make one last stab at opening the gates before the wedding?”

  “Exactly. The fireworks ceremony, if this stuff I got out of the fetch’s wallet is right.” He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. “Stay close, okay? Ambrose wants to use your blood as a substitute for your father’s. Remember that Dark Fey can compel, but they’re also the ultimate con artists. Don’t believe anything he says.”

  “I’m not stupid.” Irritably, she pulled away. He kept talking about the fey as if they were inherently evil, and that was adding to her sense of simmering panic.

  He released her, then took her hands in his, fixing her with his gaze. “Chances are Ambrose is really old and really tricky. Full-blood fey can be thousands of years old. They live as long as vampires.”

  Slowly his words soaked in. Her father might be that old, with dozens of families scattered through the centuries. She could be just one of many daughters. Maybe he’d already forgotten her. Disappointment—and a touch of anger—rolled through her. “This fey stuff is going to take a long time to process.”