by Alisa Woods
He had fiery red hair, pointed ears, and a web of golden energy he had thrown over her. It burned like firebrands wherever it touched, and he reeled her in like fish caught in a net. The golden lines pulsed as she fought them, and she only became more entangled the more she struggled. The fae advanced on her. She rose up on magic alone, dragging him with her along the rooftop, but he stayed on his feet, and with the hand not gripped on her golden energy leash, he sent a pulse of energy that knocked her from the sky again. She hit hard, and it dazed her. She tried twisting time and space—an escape back to her Dominion—but the golden netting was blocking any use of magic. Before she could move again, he was upon her, his cold hand reaching through the netting to her bare flesh.
An instant later, the familiar folding of space and time told her he was taking her somewhere.
She was caught.
Two days to convince Erelah to love him, and she wasn’t even taking his calls.
What the hell was he doing?
He’d just tried the crystal again, but it was no use. He was getting desperate enough to call on Markos, but he didn’t know how—it wasn’t like the House of Smoke had ever contacted the Angels on purpose. And now that he was cut off, Leksander felt the hopelessness of the situation even more strongly.
How could he be in love with Erelah all these years and not really understand who she was? Or what was causing her to run so far and so fast from him? He was pursuing her, but did he even know her? He was afraid the answer to that was obvious. No. And if he didn’t understand her, there was no hope of wooing her.
He was perched at the calling station for the keep—a tiny, rocky ledge just outside the perimeter alarms. The keep was locked down again with extra wards, so any immortal creature who wanted to call must stop here first and make contact. Ostensibly, he was here in case Erelah decided to show up, but in actuality, he was going crazy cooped up in his lair, pacing while he tried to sort all this out. He’d given up on the crystal, and it was a struggle not to give up on his angeling altogether.
His angeling. When did he start to think of her as belonging to him? She was fierce and proud and strong—Erelah would never belong to anyone, not in the sense of being owned or kept or controlled. It was one of the things that intrigued him about her. The raw energy and vibrancy and goodness of her was a constant draw for him, always bringing him back, even when he was frustrated or hopeless that they would ever have more than friendship. Was it really not meant to be? Could an angeling as pure of heart as Erelah only ever belong to her faction? Maybe that was why she was afraid. She feared that her friendship with him might slide into something more intimate—that kiss was enough to set him on fire; if it did the same to her, that would be cause for alarm. Especially if it broke her vow and would get her kicked out of her Dominion. If that was where she was meant to be, he could understand why she would run from him. And what kind of selfish bastard was he to screw that up for her?
Fuck. A roar welled up from inside him, sudden and hot. He shifted to dragon and raked his claws into the rocky ledge as he bellowed out his anger in a screech and in dragonfire. The echo bounced off the keep and the distant rock faces of the mountains. Then he sagged down on his haunches, defeated. He had a glimmer of the agony his brothers must have felt when they believed their mates were hopelessly out of reach. And while his disposition would never let him drop into those depths of despair, his situation was probably the most impossible of the three.
The air next to him compressed and then made a small popping sound—the kind that proceeded Erelah whenever she appeared at his side. His heart leaped as he twisted his long, dragon neck to see… but it was only Tajael.
Fucking Tajael. The last person he wanted to see.
“Oh!” Tajael said, stepping back in surprise. “I guess you really are a dragon.”
Leksander snarled, then quickly shifted human to speak. “What do you want?” Only then did Leksander notice the charred burns across Tajael’s toga. “And what happened to you?”
The surprise on Tajael’s face was quickly replaced with concern. “It’s what’s happened to Erelah that matters.”
“What?” Leksander turned to fully face him. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s been taken.” Tajael’s voice was edged with panic. “By the fae.”
“The fae?” Leksander’s voice hiked up. Panic gripped his chest. “How…? When?”
“I’m not sure,” Tajael said with a grimace. “I was knocked out. I just barely glimpsed the man who took her, but I’m certain he was fae. I could sense his power. He appeared next to Erelah and attacked. She was on a rooftop in Seattle. We were to go demon hunting. I was already lifted above, taken unawares, just as she was.” There was an apology in his voice, and guilt and concern, but Leksander didn’t care about any of that.
“Are you certain he was fae?” Although who else could take an angeling by surprise, much less kidnap one?
“Yes. Mostly.” Tajael pressed his lips together. “It happened fast.”
“It could be Zephan,” Leksander said. And how truly fucked was he, if that were true? “He’s come after each of my brothers and their mates. Maybe he realized that… that I have feelings for her…” He stalled out and drew back from Tajael.
The angeling gave him an exasperated look. “I know your thoughts on this,” he said impatiently. “The entire realm does. Not least because I told them.”
Leksander squinted. That grated against his nerves, which were raw as it was, but he needed to stay focused. If Erelah was taken by Zephan… “But why now?” Leksander asked. Maybe he had this all wrong, and he didn’t want to go running down the wrong path because he was panicked and not thinking clearly. “Zephan has to have known of my love for Erelah long before now.” Then he remembered that Zephan came hunting after Leonidas and Rosalyn when her love became True. That was the signal. That was the treaty defining act that reverberated across magical space… and drew Zephan to them like a spider on its web. Could Erelah love him? The idea seized him so hard he couldn’t speak for a moment.
“I don’t know why—” Tajael was saying.
“Did she say something,” Leksander interrupted. “Something that made you think that she… that her feelings for me might have, well, changed?” He couldn’t help the hope in his voice.
But Tajael’s expression seemed pained. “I don’t think that’s it, Leksander.”
A vise squeezed tighter on his chest, but more than disappointment, he was angry with himself. He was worried whether she loved him? When she was potentially in mortal danger?
He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter—”
“No, it does,” Tajael said, gravely. “A great deal. But I didn’t come here to torment you, prince of the House of Smoke. No matter Erelah’s feelings in the matter, your affection for her makes her a threat to anyone who wishes for the treaty to fall.”
“Zephan.” His name was ash in Leksander’s mouth. Never mind that Zephan’s powers were greater than any dragon, even one with fae blood. If he hurt Erelah, Leksander would make him pay. In blood.
“I fear so,” Tajael said. “But I can’t take this to Markos. He may just allow the fae to have her.”
“What?”
Tajael grimaced again. “You have to understand—I cannot make war between fae and angelkind. The taking of an angeling is a direct provocation, but preserving the treaty—keeping the fae from interfering with humanity—is far more important. Markos knows you love Erelah, which is also a direct threat to the treaty. With her removed from the situation…”
“He would just sacrifice her?” Leksander’s mouth went dry. Damn these Angels and their self-sacrificial righteousness!
“He would if it served the greater needs of humanity. Yes.” There was no room for doubt in his voice, and Leksander wouldn’t have questioned it anyway.
It just horrified him. “Well, fuck him.”
Tajael choked out what seemed like a small laugh. “Yes. So to sp
eak. Which is why I came to you, prince of the House of Smoke. I know you have love of her—don’t hold it against her if she cannot return that same feeling to you.”
Leksander winced, but there was no question in his mind of whether he would go after her. The only question was how. “It doesn’t matter if she loves me—”
“I know that it does,” Tajael said, but it was gentle. Kind-hearted. The same kind of voice Erelah often used with him. It made his heart ache. “You have to understand that angelings aren’t raised how humans, or even princes of the House of Smoke, are brought up. We’re taken from our human mothers almost the moment we’re born. We raised in the Dominion. The first time we even have a chance to encounter humanity is on our coming of age, during our walkabout. That’s when many Fall and are lost.”
“You mean they sleep with humans.” This was the essence of it—Erelah was terrified even of a kiss because she thought it might lead to more.
“It’s more than that… but yes.” Tajael’s eyes narrowed. “You have to understand, prince of the House of Smoke. No one has ever loved Erelah. Not a mother. Not a lover. There is only the pure love that an Angel can bring, and let me assure you, it is not the same.”
Leksander blinked and drew back. “But I’ve loved her—”
“She has not known of it,” Tajael said, gently. “And that makes all the difference. I remember the first time a human had love of me… I almost didn’t survive it. The pull was so great, the temptation so strong…” He swallowed. “Know that this is what Erelah is facing. She has never had what you offer with a clear and open heart, and yet, if she partakes, it will be her downfall.”
“Why?” Leksander demanded, suddenly seizing on this. Because this had to be the key. “Is it her vow of Chastity? Can that never be broken?”
“It’s more than that.” Tajael grimaced. “The vow keeps her safe.”
Leksander frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Tajael shook his head. “The vow is no burden to me—I would never be tempted to bring a child into this world, not knowing the burden every angeling has to carry. The walkabout serves that very purpose—to go out in the world and know its temptations then return to take the vow when one is ready. Erelah returned almost immediately, but in a way, she has never returned.”
Leksander gave him a pinched look. This angeling was talking in circles.
Tajael gestured to him. “She has been your friend from the beginning, yes? It’s as though she never left the human realm, not truly. She found a human, albeit one with dragon and fae blood, who offered something also scarce in the Dominion—true friendship. She’s held onto that even as she took her vow. And Markos allowed it because she didn’t love you. But don’t hold that against her, Leksander. It’s literally the only thing that allows her to continue.”
“I told you, it doesn’t matter to me if Erelah loves me or not.” At Tajael’s skeptical look, he quickly added. “Of course, I wish she loved me. I want her to need me like I need air to breathe. What I mean is that none of that will stop me from killing any fae who might harm her.”
The tension in Tajael’s body relaxed. “A True Love then,” he said, approvingly. “I cannot implore the Winter Court to return her or release her, but you can, prince of the House of Smoke. Your True Love gives you cause.”
Leksander nodded, seeing where he was going with this. Finally. “I’ll demand her return under the terms of the treaty—that it protects the future potential mates of the House of Smoke. If I truly love her, then that has to put the protection over her, even if she’s an angeling. Even if she doesn’t yet love me.”
“I’m not sure if that will be true, magically speaking,” he said, gravely. “But she is half human. It might be a convincing argument, regardless.”
Leksander nodded. The two were standing face to face on the narrow rocky ledge—it was the perfect place to summon Zephan. “I can call the Winter Court. Demand that Zephan account for what’s happened.”
Tajael nodded, stepping back to the far edge of the outcropping and drawing his blade from a sheath at his hip. “I cannot travel to the fae domain without being at the mercy of the Court. But here, in this realm? I’ll have your back, prince of the House of Smoke.”
Leksander was less concerned for himself—he was protected by the treaty—but having an angeling on hand might help convince Zephan to give Erelah over. Leksander clasped his hands together, summoning his inner fae magic. The runes skittered down his arms, pooling where this fingers had hold of one another, and he reached into that magic space where the fae lived. He couldn’t travel as they did—his magic wasn’t strong enough—but just like he summoned the Queen of the Summer Court, he could tap on the door of the Winter Court. He focused on Zephan in particular, imagining his long, dark hair, cruel icy blue eyes, and that smirk. It wasn’t hard to imagine a thousand talon strikes drawing his blood but then again, maybe that was exactly the message he wanted to send.
It took a long time—a full minute of seconds ticking by—but Zephan finally popped out of the fae realm and onto the rocky ledge in front of Leksander.
“Enough of your fantasies, dragon-beast!” Zephan snarled.
That drew an instant smile to Leksander’s face. He had no idea he could get under Zephan’s skin so easily. Then he killed the smile in favor of a blood-letting glare and a shifting to talons for both hands. “Return my mate,” he snarled.
Zephan drew back, wary, flicking a look at Tajael. “What in magic are you—”
“One of your minions has taken Erelah, the angeling I intend as my mate.” The growl was working its way out of his chest. “Return her. Now, Zephan. Or you’re going to really wish you had.” He wasn’t sure he could back up that threat, but he would find a way.
Zephan gave him an odd pinched look, like he couldn’t decide if Leksander was joking or not. Which just inflamed Leksander more—was this nothing but games to the vile fae prince? But then a more familiar disdain took over Zephan’s face.
“If someone of my Court had taken your little bird, trust me, I would know it.” He drew himself up to his full, haughty height. “You’re growling up the wrong Court, dragon-beast.” Then he turned and disappeared into a flash of light.
Leksander just gaped at the empty space where Zephan was a moment ago… and a realization sunk down on his chest, squeezing it even harder.
“He’s lying,” Tajael offered. “The fae always lie, even though, in theory, they cannot.”
Leksander turned to face him, the full horror of this making it hard for him to breathe. “He’s not lying. And I know who has her.”
“Who?” Tajael had an almost comical look of confusion on his face.
“Nyssa. Queen of the Summer Court.” Leksander’s throat closed up.
Erelah… what had he done?
The fae had her strung up, and the pain was relentless.
Erelah bashed against the golden bars that held her like a giant caged bird, but everywhere she touched—the bars, the golden floor, the domed top—burned with an unholy fire. Already her wings and arms and feet bore a hundred scorch marks. Only by lifting on magic alone, keeping her wings tucked, could she avoid contact with the sizzling evil magic of the cage, which dangled from the ceiling. But she could only do that for so long before she tired… and scorched her feet once more.
“You fae are even more loathsome than I knew,” Erelah spat at the male fae who was cooling watching her struggles. She was suspended in the middle of a room that seemed more like a forest. Vines hung from the ceiling, partially blocking Erelah’s view of an elaborate twist of roots and flowers in the shape of a throne. In the middle of it was a swing.
The Summer Court. She was sure of it. Not only the wild nature of the place, but she tasted the summer magic on the fae before her. It was just like Leksander’s. Not that the knowledge helped her in the slightest.
Erelah banged against the bars, this time unintentionally—her wings had flexed under the strain of staying aloft.<
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“Don’t burn yourself to a crisp before the queen arrives,” said the male fae who was her guard and jailer. “That takes all the fun out of it.”
Erelah glared at him, but her heart was quivering more than her lungs. The queen? Why had she snatched Erelah off a rooftop in Seattle? And would Markos come for her? Somehow, she doubted it. And poor Tajael…
“The angeling you struck from the air…” Erelah paused. Would they tell her the truth? Supposedly, the fae must tell the truth, but in reality, they were artful about their lies. “Did you strike him with a lethal blow?” she asked. Perhaps that would pin him down sufficiently.
The fae looked annoyed, scowling at her with those green eyes, as if he wished not to answer her at all, but finally, he blurted out, “No.”
“So Tajael lives?” She bobbed in her cage, relaxing the constant effort at magic just for a second.
“How should I know?” The fae waved away her question. “It is unimportant.”
“Because you were after me.” Although she had yet to understand why.
An evil smirk slowly grew on his face. “Yes.”
“What need have you of an angeling in a cage?” Her voice hiked up. The bloodlust and other cruelties of the fae were legion among the angelings of her Dominion. That a captured angeling might be abused for sport was not unheard of. After all, she would happily fling her blade and impale this vile creature, but he’d quickly disarmed her. She could expect substantially worse than a quick death in return.
Angel and fae were ancient and mortal enemies.
There was little hope of escape.
“My queen will soon decide just what we’ll do with you.” He took pleasure in those words, and Erelah struggled not to lose heart. But what tiny hope she had was squashed when another fae winked into existence beside the first… only this one was female, with abundant white-silver hair, a vaporous dress made of the same silver-and-white coloration, and the pointed ears for which all fae were known.
