“Or what? You’ll claim me again, only this time stripping me of my free will as well? You expect me to trust you, just like that, when you don’t trust me.”
“When it comes to the Fae, I trust no one.”
She pulled her hand free, but remained seated on the edge of the bed.
“You wear their mark. Your tattoo, it’s a Fae glyph.”
Surprise blinked across her face. “It’s coincidence.”
“Is it?”
“Whatever you’re thinking—stop. I knew nothing of your world until a couple of days ago.”
“Yet you managed to summon Dolan pretty easily.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So because I was smart enough to pay attention when you and Briana were talking about it, my motives are suddenly suspect?”
“That’s not what I meant.” He shoved his hand through his hair, struggling to figure out how the conversation had taken such a turn.
Kennedy stood ten feet away, arms crossed, waiting. For what he didn’t know. An apology? A solution? A way out of being his mate?
Thankfully a knock on the door saved him from saying the wrong thing and making the situation undoubtedly worse.
“Tristan? I have the name you’re looking for.”
“I’ll be right there.” He yanked on his clothes. “We’ll finish our conversation when I get back.”
“Can’t wait,” she quipped. She didn’t so much as glance in his direction as she gathered up her clothes and vanished into the bathroom.
—
“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”
Kennedy turned from the window, abandoning her study of the drops of rain splattering on the glass. A flash of lightning followed a boom of thunder loud enough to rattle the panes.
Briana turned away from her computer. “Whatever Dolan agreed to, it won’t be to fight Lucan. The Fae don’t interfere with Rhiannon.”
“Afraid of her, are they?”
“Trust me, you would be too if you came face to face with her.”
Kennedy started to shrug, then silently questioned the wisdom of inviting that kind of trouble. She knew little of the goddess, but wouldn’t put it past fate to throw a few more wrenches into the mix.
“He’s not so bad you know. Tristan,” Briana added as if there were any doubt who she meant.
“We barely know each other.”
“And you think knowing each other is what keep marriages together?”
Massaging her temples to ease the headache she’d had since Tristan left hours ago, Kennedy sank down on the sofa. “Are we even talking about marriage here? Mated. What does that mean? Should I expect him to woo me by leaving dead birds on my doorstep?”
Briana laughed. “You know the part in traditional wedding vows about till death do you part? Being mated is a lot like that. I’m sorry I blurted it all out at you like that.”
“Are you really?”
“Not sorry that you knowing might give Tristan a reason to reconsider. But I’m sorry I sort of shoved it down your throat that way.”
“Did you recognize your mate right away?”
Briana didn’t say anything.
“Tristan and I met months ago. If we really have some kind of bond, how come he didn’t realize it before now?”
“You’re not worried about being his mate, are you? You’re worried that he made a mistake.”
Pushing to her feet, Kennedy paced back toward the window. “I’m human. You’re all immortal. Doesn’t that seem like someone screwed up somewhere?”
“I can see how it would be easier to believe that,” Briana said gently.
“Nothing about any of this is easy.” She rubbed at the spider-web tattoo, shivering for the dozenth time in the last half-hour.
“He’s not wrong.”
“How do you know?”
“We just do. Even when our mate is someone we never expected, even when we try to pretend it can’t be or know we can’t be together, we know.”
Kennedy couldn’t imagine what was worse. Discovering that kind of connection to someone else—an immortal someone—or acknowledging that bond and knowing you couldn’t have a future together.
“Tristan?”
The alarm in Briana’s voice had Kennedy whipping around.
The sight of Tristan leaning in the doorway, his shirt ripped, blood staining the front of him, pushed her heart into her throat. “You’re hurt.”
“Just a scratch.”
He might have been able to keep the pain from his voice, but the way he favored his right leg as he crossed to the sofa and sat wasn’t so convincing.
Carefully, Kennedy eased down next to him. He cupped her nape and drew her closer, rubbing his cheek against hers.
“Who did this to you?”
“See, I am growing on you.”
“The dragon got away, didn’t he?” Briana asked.
Kennedy didn’t need to look at Tristan to know the answer. His grip on her tightened, his other arm coming up to pull her against his chest. Relieved he’d returned in one piece, she didn’t say a word when he growled something about his mate against her hair.
“What happened?” Briana sat opposite them.
“I shredded one of his wings pretty bad, but the bastard still somehow managed to fly away.”
“Over the city? Rhiannon’s huntresses won’t be happy to hear that.”
“Huntresses?” A sharp pain in Kennedy’s hand caused the last syllable to stick in her throat.
Tristan frowned, but didn’t notice the way she rubbed the tattoo. “They keep the rest of us from betraying our existence to humans. If he’s not already on their radar, he will be now.”
“And soon wishing he had let you put him out of his misery.” Briana shuddered.
“So this guy was the one you thought hired the wraith?”
“Him or another of his clan and he was tasked to deal with Lucan.”
Kennedy closed her eyes. “So that’s it then.”
“No.” Briana stood. “We give Lucan the dagger.”
“You need it for Cian,” Kennedy argued.
“We found it once, we’ll find it again.” Tristan’s sister strode out of the room.
Tristan grabbed Kennedy’s hand, leading her along as he followed his sister. “Briana, wait. This isn’t your call to make.”
Briana scoffed. “Says who? I haven’t listened to you since we were kids, and Cale… Cale is not my keeper either. He knows what it’s like to lose a mate and would never expect you to sacrifice yours for anyone.”
“Cale lost his mate?” Kennedy followed them down a winding staircase off the mirrored room.
Tristan nodded, his attention returning to his sister. “What about Cian?”
“He wouldn’t want you to die freeing him.” At the bottom of the stairs, Briana opened a door that led into a state of the art room that looked like some highly classified military lab straight out of spy movie.
“It’s a glamour,” Tristan explained when Kennedy stared in awe around the room. “An illusion courtesy of a Fae who owed Briana a favor.”
“Is that why it looks so—” she cocked her head, “—fuzzy?”
Tristan and Briana exchanged puzzled glances before she punched in a code on a keypad.
“Briana,” Tristan began.
“It’s gone.”
“What?”
His sister stepped to the side, revealing an empty safe. “The dagger is gone.”
Tristan shook his head. “I put it there myself.”
Ignoring the icy itch beneath the spider-web tattoo, Kennedy asked, “Who else besides you two had access?”
“Only Cale,” Briana answered.
A sudden stab of pain in her hand made Kennedy cry out. Son of a bitch. She clasped her hand to her chest as the burning sting traveled across her wrist.
Tristan gently brought her hand up to eye-level.
Before her eyes, the tattoo began to disintegrate, the black ink melting into her skin. “What’s happening?”
/>
“It’s a toxin.” Fury darkened his words. “It’s meant to weaken the target, make the kill easier.”
Gritting her teeth against the fire that clawed up her arm, Kennedy shook her head. “Why didn’t it happen before? Why now?”
“Because our time is up.”
—
Tristan jerked his head at Briana. “Upstairs.”
She glanced past Kennedy’s head. “It’s too late. Lucan’s already here.”
Pulling Kennedy behind him, he faced the room’s only exit. Seconds ticked off in his head as the sensation of being stalked slithered up his spine.
“Show yourself.”
The shadows beyond the door converged, the seething blackness stretching across the floor and into the room.
“The dagger’s gone, Lucan. It’s not even here to give you.” Tristan tightened his grip on Kennedy. Her breathing grew increasingly ragged as she leaned a little harder against him. In another couple of minutes, maybe less, her knees would give out.
The mercenary hovered just inside the door.
Briana edged forward. “Tristan’s telling the truth.”
Although faceless, the wraith’s attention undoubtedly shifted to his sister.
Not wanting Briana caught in the crossfire, he pushed Kennedy closer to her and stepped between them and the wraith. “We need more time, Lucan. Tell your contractor the dagger is gone.”
“It’s too late, Tristan.” Anguish filled Briana’s voice. “He’s too far gone. You won’t get through to him until…”
Until Kennedy was dead. “No.” He watched the wraith circle them. The cat clawed and snapped inside him, trying to tear through his skin to get out.
The wraith lunged for Kennedy, and Tristan shifted, his bones reshaping and aligning. His vision sharpened, the instinct to kill the threat to his mate drowning everything else out.
“Tristan!”
He ignored Kennedy’s panic, needing to stay focused on tracking his enemy. Briana had her. Or so he thought until Kennedy weaved on her feet, pitching sideways as she went down—and landing in the direct path of the wraith.
No!
Tristan sprang forward, but not before the wraith’s claws materialized and slashed down. Kennedy’s eyes widened and she recoiled from the strike to her midsection, curling in on herself. Blood pooled on the floor around her, the scent of it shoving him to the edge. He leapt for the wraith, catching hold of the mercenary.
Wounded, Lucan struggled to hold onto his phantom form, his black eyes void of anything but death as he fought Tristan off.
Behind him, Tristan saw Briana haul his mate back, her horrified expression turning grim. Distracted, he didn’t move fast enough to avoid a rake of the wraith’s claws.
Tristan stumbled, blood dripping down his limbs.
“Tristan, I think we’re losing her.”
Briana’s words didn’t penetrate until the wraith suddenly backed off, something the mercenary wouldn’t do unless he sensed he’d succeeded in taking out his target.
Needing to be by his mate’s side, he turned his back on the wraith, shifting to gather her into his arms. Glassy eyes stared up at him. Blood poured from the deep gashes he was afraid to look at. He knew they were bad, knew from Kennedy’s cool, clammy skin, her pale face, the way her chest worked faster and harder to breathe.
“Tristan?” Confusion drew her brows together. Her gaze slid around the room before coming back to his face. “It hurts. Everything hurts.”
He glanced helplessly at Briana, then back at Kennedy. “It’s going to be okay.” The lie snaked across his chest, made breathing impossible. He touched her face, leaving smudges of blood on her cheek.
The cat roared in denial, clawing at the edges of his mind.
Kennedy lightly gripped his wrist, her fingers slipping off him almost the second she touched him. He caught her hand and held it against his chest, willing her to hang on. There was no ambulance on the way for her, no surgery that would repair the fatal damage, no magic that could save her in time, yet he didn’t let go.
He rested his forehead against hers, hating himself for what he’d let happen to Cian, for what he’d let happen to his mate. Her eyes slid closed, each of her breaths growing softer, slower. The invisible fist gripping his heart promised to leave him as lost and broken as Kennedy, and he didn’t care.
“She’s gone,” Briana whispered, touching his shoulder.
No. He tightened his hold on Kennedy.
Briana crouched next to him. “Tristan.”
An anguished sound ripped up his throat, and he turned, seeking the wraith.
“Take her,” he ordered Briana, his lethal tone at odds with the way he carefully handed his dead mate to his sister.
He pushed to his feet, the ripple of his near shift humming under his skin.
“Wait.”
Out of nowhere, Dolan stepped between them.
“Get out of my way,” he snarled.
The bastard shook his head. “Kennedy bargained for your life.”
“The Fae don’t interfere with Rhiannon’s mercenaries.”
Dolan shrugged. “I’m not preventing Lucan from attacking you. I’m preventing you from attacking him, which would naturally force him to defend himself.”
“Kennedy is dead. What she bargained for no longer fucking applies.” The verbal acknowledgment of his mate’s death shattered something inside him, and his claws burst through his skin.
The Fae turned, facing the wraith. “She has died a mortal’s death. I believe your engagement has been completed.”
Lucan hesitated as the pair exchanged some kind of silent communication, then retreated. The cat snapped and snarled, needing to feel the wraith’s throat pinned beneath its jaws.
Dolan bent down next to Kennedy, ignoring the deadly growl from Briana.
Abandoning his thirst for the wraith’s spilled blood, he stalked toward the Fae. “Get away from her.”
Unfazed, Dolan tipped his head, considering. “Would you sacrifice your bond with Kennedy if it meant she would live?”
Hope flared in his chest even as his throat constricted. The cat snarled at the thought of living without its mate, yet the man didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
The Fae searched Tristan’s face, nodding slowly. He glanced back at Kennedy, watching.
Every breath Tristan drew hammered between his ears. “What are you doing?”
“Patience, gargoyle.”
Still the Fae crouched unmoving over Kennedy. Seconds stretched into minutes and nothing happened. The faint glimmer of hope Tristan allowed himself slowly dimmed, replaced by the certainty that the Fae was fucking with him.
He grabbed Dolan, shoving him back. “What game are you trying to play?”
“Tristan!”
Releasing the Fae, he turned at the sound of Briana’s voice, his gaze darting to the shimmery cloud surrounding Kennedy’s body.
“What are you doing to her?”
“Nothing,” Dolan answered.
The iridescent waves settled over his mate’s skin like creamy liquid silk, seeping into her skin, brightening her color.
“If this is some kind of trick…” he warned, afraid to believe his eyes.
Dolan shook his head. “No trick. She’s a changeling.”
Tristan’s heart stopped in his chest. “She’s Fae? I thought that tradition was no longer practiced?” Long before Tristan’s time Fae children were hidden and raised in the human world to ensure survival of family lines during times of war.
“There are some families who continue with it.”
“And the Fae glyph on her back?”
“Sometimes we lose track of the changelings. The brand surfaces when they reach maturity and we use it to find them.”
Tristan frowned. “She didn’t know.”
“The brand binds her magic, keeping her from harming herself or those around her until she learns what she is.”
He studied Dolan. “You have a scar don’t
you? You hide it with glamour.”
Amused, Dolan arched a brow. “Admiring my pretty face, gargoyle?”
Tristan scowled. “Kennedy said you had a scar. She saw through the glamour, didn’t she?”
“It’s inconsistent in changelings, but happens.” That was all the explanation Dolan offered.
Impatience warred with lingering disbelief as Tristan crouched over his mate. “Why isn’t she waking up?” He smoothed her hair back from her face.
“Clearly you haven’t died before. You don’t just bounce back from that instantly. She’ll wake up when she’s ready.”
Almost as though she heard them, Kennedy’s eyelashes fluttered. He took her hand, forcing himself not to squeeze it too tight. “Come on, Kennedy. Open your eyes.”
“Give her a minute,” Dolan snapped.
Tristan growled at the Fae, but never took his eyes off his mate. She groaned, struggled to open her eyes.
“Easy,” he warned when she moved in his arms, surprised by her strength.
“Oh God,” she murmured, cupping his face. Her eyes searched his, and she shook her head. Tears glistened in the soulful brown depths. “You died didn’t you?” She locked her arms around him. “God damn you.”
“I’m not dead.” He eased back, trailing his fingers across her smooth skin, delighting in the feel of her warm and alive and, not surprisingly, mad at him.
Her brows creased. “Then why do you look so shiny and…” She noticed Dolan. “You promised to keep him safe. You—” She cocked her head. “You look like he does.” Her attention shot to Briana. “You too. What the hell is going on?”
“It takes some time to adjust. You’re in one piece and so is the cat.” He held his hand out to her. “Do you remember your part of our bargain?”
She nodded slowly, but Tristan pulled her away from the Fae.
Confusion gave way to a disturbing resignation. “I have to go.”
“No.” He wouldn’t lose her again.
“Didn’t you say you would sacrifice your bond, your claim on her, if it meant she would live?”
He glared at Dolan. “You bastard.” He lunged for the Fae, catching only empty air.
“I need a minute,” Kennedy pleaded, pushing to her feet as the Fae appeared next to her.
“A deal is a deal,” Dolan reminded her gently.
“I know, I just…” Her gaze locked on Tristan. “I couldn’t let you die for me.”
Primal Hunger: Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 1 Page 12
