The Complete Tempted Series

by Selene Charles

  “Where’s Abel?” she asked. If Dean was here, then maybe he was trying to help her and maybe she could finally get her hands on Abel and leave once and for all.

  This place totally gave her the willies.

  Ophelia clasped her hands together and tossed Dean a worried frown.

  “Oh boy,” Flint whispered, “that’s not a good look, right?”

  She was gonna so puke for real now. The vines on her arms buzzed irritatingly beneath her skin. Even her plants and the ring weren’t helping her to remain completely calm through all this.

  Dean clenched his jaw. “While it is true that The Ciardah had no claim on you—”

  “Had. You said had.” Flint held up a finger, heart hammering wildly in her chest. The leaves at her feet danced as little shots of lightning sparked from the very tips of her fingers.

  It didn’t go unnoticed by her that the brooding and silent Ciardah was looking at her almost hungrily. Oh God, was her grandfather going to eat her?

  Dean wrinkled his nose. “Smelling like a perfume factory in here, Flint. Stand down. Look, The Ciardah has brought you here by illegal means. Which, if you were any other person, I could not care less about. He could eat you for his nightly snack if he wanted to and that would be no skin off my back.”

  “Well, gee, thanks. I feel all warm and gushy inside now.” She glared hotly at him.

  “But”—Dean held up a finger—“you and Abel both are key players on my board, and ones he had no right to touch.”

  “She is an heir apparent.” The Ciardah finally spoke up. “She will be groomed for the Wild Hunt.”

  She shivered. “That totally doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s not.” Ophelia glared at her grandpappy. “What The Ciardah wants and won’t tell you is that a blood sacrifice must be made for the Wild—”

  Like the cogs of a wheel fitting together, it all snapped into place. “Holy crap. You brought us here so that I would kill Abel, spill his blood. So was this all a setup? The sword that haunted me? The dreams? The night visions? Graham? And all this for what, for your little hunt?” She finger quoted that last bit.

  “Graham should not have happened,” The Ciardah said.

  But that was all he said.

  “The Wild Hunt is not little magic,” Ophelia snapped, causing the blossoms in her hair to suddenly wilt and fall to the ground around her. Immediately new blossoms took their place. “It is a period of great and powerful magick, magick that can destroy a universe. It is magick that can only be harnessed by The Ciardah and The Morrigan.”

  Flint frowned. “So then why am I here?”

  “Because your friend wasn’t to be the sacrifice. You were, Flint.” The beautiful fae said it softly.

  Wow, okay, whammy. She’d totally not seen that coming. “So all this, teaching me about my heritage, sending me the sword, it was all to make me what?”

  “A great foe.” The Ciardah’s look was cold, cruel, and penetrating. “The Hunt can only succeed if the blood spilled is powerful enough.”

  Wrapping her arms around herself, Flint didn’t know whether she should laugh or cry. So she did both. Tears rolled down her face as she guffawed like a wild woman.

  “Oh God, you bring new meaning to the word psychopath. So why are you here?” She looked at Dean. “And how can I leave?”

  Ophelia was the one to answer. “In a matter such as this, I can be mediator only. The dark court has broken faith with the Horseman—”

  Horseman. Death. Four horseman of the Apocalypse. Okay, got it.

  “—and reparation must be made.”

  “Meaning.” Dean took over. “We cannot extract you completely. But we can give you a chance to get both you and Abel free of this place. To do so, you will be tasked to perform a gauntlet. A trial of speed, skill, and intellect. Three parts. Should you succeed, you and Abel both can return to your world.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “You and that demon become my stag.” The Ciardah nodded.

  “Stag.” She almost croaked on the word. “As in, bow and arrow, and blood. And death?”

  She wrapped a hand around her neck.

  “Can’t you just poof us out of here?” Flint turned to Dean. “If I’m really so important to your endgame, which I’m assuming deals with the hive and Layla—”

  “My endgame goes far deeper. Abel and you are essential to the win. But without you to free him of his curse, he is worthless to me. One cannot live without the other. This is far more than you merely being abducted or Abel being altered. This is prophecy, end-time. And right now, it all hinges on you, Flint DeLuca. So don’t screw me over. You have no choice but to succeed, do you understand?”

  The forcefulness of his words was enough to make her realize how serious this was. But Flint had never really been one who could handle serious well.

  Because to think about the fact that she’d been basically tricked into coming here so that she and Abel could become a living sacrifice to a man whose blood ran through her veins (but who clearly didn’t give two craps about her) made her feel hollow inside.

  “Because the fate of the world rests on my wee shoulders. Aye, aye, captain.” She saluted sloppily.

  She’d half expected Dean to go all ape on her, tell her to take it more seriously, to understand the gravity of the situation, but instead he tossed his head back and chuckled deeply.

  “With that attitude, you’ll do just fine, little darkling.”

  “Why do people insist on giving me so many stupid nicknames all the time?” she groused.

  Dean snorted. “You will be safe during your stay here. At least until the end of the gauntlet. None can bring you harm.”

  “Right, ’cause I totally trust my psycho grandpappy to keep his word. No offense.” She looked at Beelzebub numero dos.

  “He has no choice,” Ophelia said. “He will keep to his word or it will mean war between our courts. The balance of life and death rests in your hands, halfling. Remember that.”

  “No pressure, right?” Flint snorted.

  No one answered back.

  57

  Flint

  The moment she was dismissed, Flint found herself in a room. A mammoth room. Really, room was the wrong word for where she found herself.

  It was as large as a massive warehouse, and the walls were nothing but shelves full of books. Think Beauty and the Beast’s library. The colors were dark tones of blues, purples, and rich golds, appropriate for the dark court.

  There were no lights in the room, just tiny glowing orbs that bobbed and swayed. Their movements made her think of lightning bugs, but their light never dimmed.

  An impressively large four-poster bed took up a good chunk of space, and there were thick carpets strewn around the floor. A square area cut out of the ground and full of water looked more like a pool than a roman bath.

  There was also greenery. Everywhere. Wherever there wasn’t carpet, there was grass. But not just any regular grass, this stuff was plush and jeweled and thick. Creeping out of the grass blades were her vines, covered in thorns and roses.

  She was completely alone and yet she couldn’t help but smile. This strange world was macabrely beautiful. Whiffs of flower-scented oils steamed up from the bath, enticing her to jump in and wash up.

  Aware that she was no longer alone, she turned. Death stood with his arms crossed behind his back.

  The entire time she’d been with The Ciardah, she’d sensed there was more to the story than Death merely showing up to help a gal out.

  He nodded. “You’re correct.”

  She didn’t need to ask to know the truth, but she asked it anyway. “You read my thoughts.”

  His shrug was unapologetic. “You’re smart, darkling. I think you know why I’m here.”

  She suspected. “Yeah, but I’d like to hear you say it anyway.”

  One thing she was quickly learning in this life of monsters and mysteries was that nothing was ever done for free.

&nbs
p; “Grace and I have entered into an arrangement of sorts.” He stared at his nails, talking to her as though addressing a board meeting, like it was a necessary but boring evil. “I will do all I can to ensure your return to our world.”

  Her lips thinned. “And in return I’ll have to do what?”

  He finally looked up, his eyes dancing with laughter. “Oh, trust me, you’ll know. Do not fail us, Flint. I can promise you that what The Ciardah has planned for you and Abel is a fate far worse than mine.”

  “Not comforting in the slightest.”

  His lips twitched. “Not supposed to be, halfling. We’ll meet again. In the meantime”—he gave her new digs a cursory once-over—“enjoy your stay here.”

  She frowned. “Stay. Okay, so… how long are we talking exactly?”

  He shrugged. “Could be days, weeks, or years.”

  “Years!” Her eyes widened to the size of saucers.

  “In a manner of speaking. Time runs differently amongst your kind.”

  “Cain.” She whispered his name, feeling the pain of his loss keenly already.

  “Will be fine,” he finished for her. “He’ll be kept busy. Do your part, Flint, and come home.”

  Then he was gone and she was alone once again with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.

  Pacing the length of the room, her dominant thought was that she really prayed it wouldn’t take years to free Abel.

  But thoughts could sometimes turn into poisonous little devils that stole any hope she still possessed.

  Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she decided that since she couldn’t change her situation, there was no point in dwelling on it.

  “Nice bath,” she said to no one in particular. Running her fingers along the edge of her robe, she decided it was probably not a bad idea to take the grime off her.

  She was seriously going to go crazy if she had no one else to talk to for years. And then of course her mind returned to Abel and what was happening to him.

  Growling under her breath, she grabbed hold of her robe. “Think about something else, Flint, ’cause crazy isn’t helping.”

  Just as she was about to slip off her robe, a loudly clearing throat startled her into twirling around.

  Idris stood there smiling, bare-chested just as before, his hands clasped behind his back. “How do you like it?”

  “Doesn’t anyone freaking knock around here?” she grumped.

  He chuckled. “Not usually, no.”

  And then he continued to stare at her. His social skills were completely lacking if he hadn’t gotten the hint that she wanted him gone. He simply waited, as though expecting an answer.

  Impatient to get him out of her room she decided to appease him. She huffed. “This place?”

  “I gave The Ciardah the design for it.”

  Well, that surprised her. Not that she thought he was dumb exactly, but why would he have gone to the effort? Because he was her consort? She didn’t like that thought.

  “You did this?” She spread her arms, encompassing the whole of the place. “It’s…”

  She was about to tell him it was okay. But okay hardly described how beautiful it was. How perfect.

  Flint sighed. “It’s magical.”

  His grin grew broader. “If you’re patient, you’ll see the golden stag through the trees every so often. It’s said the sight of him brings good fortune.”

  “Trees?” She shook her head and glanced over her right shoulder. “There are no trees here…” Her words trailed off to dead silence as she was suddenly confronted by a forested glen.

  Gone was the awesome library and bath, now she was in a forest with trees as big as giants, fog curling up from the rolling hills before her. Dark shadows ghosted mist, making her shiver.

  “What the fudge?” she muttered. “Where’s the—”

  His voice was serene and calming as he said, “You are on fae land, Princess. There are no bounds to this world. What you want, you can see.”

  Once again her throat clogged up. He’d called her princess a few times already, and anytime he did she couldn’t help but think about Cain and how worried he must be for her and Abel.

  “The Ciardah is a horrible man.” She hadn’t meant to just say it, but though she knew she should trust no one here, she felt oddly safe with Idris.

  He shook his head, and Flint couldn’t help but admire the shape of his profile. Idris wasn’t traditionally handsome in a human way, but the sharp planes of his features and strong jawline was definitely nice to look upon.

  “He is the Master of the Hunt. That is what he was designed for, what he lives for. It is who he is. Good and bad does not apply, he simply is.”

  “Designed for?” She turned toward him fully and did a pretty good job at hiding her shock when the world once again shifted and this time they were standing in the center of a cozy room.

  It was a library, but not like the massive one she’d first walked into. This one was way cooler. Had a nice indie, mom-and-pop kind of vibe to it with old, musty books that smelled the way books should smell sitting on wooden shelves behind them and carpets that were pretty but a little threadbare along the edges, and with two totally comfortable-looking chairs just waiting for them to sit on.

  “I think this is how the room should always look.” She smiled.

  Idris gestured for her to take a seat. Only once she did, did he. A small stand of goodies magically appeared beside her. A mug full of something brown and divine-smelling. Had to be cocoa. And beside it sat a plate full of fruits, tangy cheeses, and roasted nuts.

  Her stomach grumbled. Loudly.

  Flinching, she looked down at her feet. How embarrassing.

  But he only chuckled. “I called the food for you. I hope it’s suitable to your tastes.”

  She smiled. “Thanks. That was really thoughtful.”

  It flashed through her head for a split second that maybe he was tricking her the same way Hades had when he’d given Persephone those pomegranate seeds, but if she was going to be stuck here for years, she couldn’t exactly refuse to eat either.

  Chuckling, he gestured toward the food. “Neither the food and drink or drugged. Death’s orders are explicit. No harm may come to you either now or during the gauntlet. You are perfectly safe here.”

  Well, at least he’d put her mind at ease, but she still couldn’t help from muttering, “Yeah, for now anyway.”

  His lips twitched.

  Snatching up the mug of cocoa and a palm full of indigo-hued dates, she noshed happily on them, finishing the cocoa in next to no time. Nectar of the gods. She almost burped when she set the mug back down.

  Thank God she no longer needed to eat mounds of food like she had before the change happened. That would have been difficult to explain.

  Crossing her legs at the ankles, she tried her best to look ladylike when what she really wanted to do was dive face-first into the plate of food and growl like Cain did when he went all rager on her.

  Gawd, he was so adorable when he did that.

  Idris leaned back, kicking out one long leg, and studied her. “You seem at peace here.”

  She lifted a brow. She hadn’t thought about it until he’d mentioned it. But the unease she’d felt when walking through the castle grounds was totally gone. “You know, I am. I feel calm here, settled.”

  He nodded. “Good. I’d hoped you would. The walls of this room are heavily fortified against the dark magic The Ciardah naturally exudes. In here at least, you should feel comfortable.”

  He really had thought of everything. Not sure what to do or say, her breeding came into play. It was only polite to say thanks. “Thanks, Idris. This place would be pretty perfect if it weren’t a prison.”

  Chuckling, he shook his head. “Don’t think of it like that.”

  “Then what should I see it as?” she asked, her tone cross. But she was cranky. If she’d known what The Ciardah had planned when he brought her here, of course she never would have come.

&
nbsp; “Your sanctuary. Until the gauntlet begins, this is your safe place.”

  “Won’t be safe if just anyone can just plop in here.” She snapped a grape off a stem, chomping on it. “Thinking of Ciardah and Kestrel.”

  “And me?”

  She pursed her lips. “Haven’t decided yet.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I sense your strength and believe you will succeed in your gauntlet.”

  “Not that it should surprise me”—she mumbled around a mouthful of food—“that you already knew what my dear old grandpappy was up to, but kind of mean to keep that from me. You’re a butthead.” She shrugged. “But a butthead with the uncanny ability to make my tummy happy.”

  He snorted. “You are the strangest fae I’ve ever encountered.”

  “It’s ’cause I’m not one.” She swallowed another palmful of dates, then proceeded to snatch up a pile of roasted cashews. She groaned with delight at the warm saltiness of them. “I’m mostly human and just happen to look like this.” She brushed a hand down her chest.

  “How you were raised does not alter your essence.”

  “And so my faeness outweighs my humanity, that’s what you’re saying? ’Cause I call BS on that.” She lifted a brow.

  But the smile on his face didn’t falter an inch. “Of course it does. Your ‘faeness’ as you call it, is far superior to—”

  “Oh, brother. Look, whatever you say. So I’m not upset at you for feeding me this awesome food and making me this room—”

  “I didn’t make it, I merely—”

  “Designed it, whatever.” She shushed him with a flick of her wrist. “But can we just get down to brass tacks already and you tell me why you’re here?”

  It wasn’t that she wanted to rush him out of her room, but then again she sort of did. As much as she enjoyed his company—and she really did—she didn’t know him. Wasn’t sure she should trust him. He’d basically told her not to, and considering she was already on the dark court’s top ten most wanted list, it was only natural she felt a little put off by the fae in general.