by Leia Shaw
She shot him a dirty look. “I seem to remember my little bow saving your ass from a few ravenous werewolves not long ago.”
He chuckled. “I would not have survived eight hundred years if I couldn’t handle a few stray wolves.”
Looking up at him with a serious expression, she asked, “Do you happen to have a pin?”
“No. Why?”
“To pop your giant head before it makes off with your body.”
He laughed out loud then yanked her up against his chest and kissed the hell out of her. He couldn’t help himself. When he pulled back, her lips were red and swollen. He liked her that way. Freshly kissed, a little surprised. She stumbled back when he released her. He tried to steady her but she shrunk back.
One large stride and he had her up against a tree. He smiled with a mocking edge he knew would make her hackles rise. “What’s the matter? You survive a werewolf attack, but you’re scared of a little kiss?”
“I’m not scared,” she bit. His smile widened, glad to see her spirits back. Though her spitfire determination sometimes set his teeth on edge, he preferred it to the dismal mood of the last couple hours.
One moment her eyes were fire, sharp and angry, an instant later they were pools of worry. She bit down on the bottom lip he was just about to taste. “Marcelo.” Her voice was soft, vulnerable. “What would you say if I wanted to go to the Unseelie kingdom? Find out about this prophecy?”
And now we’re back to plotting. He pushed away from the tree with a discouraged sigh. “I’d say, not a chance.”
“Why?” She rushed forward to keep up with his rapid pace. “It seems like they want to help me.”
“Can’t trust them.”
“And the Seelie fae?”
“Definitely can’t trust them.”
She was silent for a moment. “But according to this prophecy, I have some kind of destiny I’m supposed to fulfill.”
“Forget it. They can find someone else.”
“But…destiny is like fate. I can’t run from it forever.”
With a heavy sigh, he turned to look at her, halting her steps. “Aila, do you know how many oracles are out there predicting random cataclysmic events? Foretelling destinies and omens and prophecies? Do you know how many actually come true? A very small fraction. Believe me, if you don’t unite the fae, someone else will.” As a second thought, he added, “Or they’ll just kill each other. Either way, not our problem.”
Marcelo could tell by her glowering eyes and small pout that she wasn’t happy with his answer, but she said no more on the topic.
“I need to use the bathroom,” she told him after they’d been walking silently for a spell.
He searched her face, looking for a lie. Convinced she was sincere, he walked away to give her privacy.
“Ouch!” Her voice came from far into the trees a few minutes later. He raced through the woods, following her scent and almost stopped short when he smelled blood. Her blood. His heart sped as his feet moved faster across the rocky ground.
“What happened?” he asked when he reached her. She sat on a boulder clutching the side of her calf where a trail of blood dripped down her leg.
“I fell,” she answered. “It looks deep.”
“Let me see.”
She moved her hand to reveal a deep gash. He ripped off a piece of his shirt from around her waist and pressed it to the wound.
“I’m going to need a bandage,” she said.
He shook his head. “I’ll wrap the cloth around it –”
“Marcelo!”
He looked into her watery eyes.
“Please!”
With a sigh he gave a curt nod then traversed to a small town they’d driven through on their journey from Denver. He searched the downtown strip mall, spotted the pharmacy then ran inside. He grabbed three boxes of different size bandages, a roll of gauze, and alcohol wipes.
When he returned, she was gone. He picked up her scent and followed it. His mind slipped into hunting mode – focused, lethal. It scared him. He couldn’t lose himself to it again. Not when he just started to win her back.
But she ran from me! the vampire in him roared. Punish her! He gave his head a forceful shake, reigning in the angry thoughts. The look on her face when he had betrayed her flashed into his mind. Tear-stained cheeks, blood-shot eyes, bottom lip trembling. It calmed him, kept the human in control.
He should have known better than to fall for the injury scam. As if a fae would randomly trip over something on flat terrain with the light of the coming dawn. He wouldn’t come down hard on her, but he wouldn’t be letting her out of his sight again either. When he saw the honey-colored hair flowing behind the agile body, running and hopping over rocks just a short burst ahead, he traversed in front of her. With her eyes wide, she halted to a stop.
“You cannot outrun me, love,” he said, proud of himself for managing his anger.
She smiled slyly, putting him on edge. “No,” she agreed. “But I can outsmart you.”
Without warning she threw a handful of rocky sand in his eyes. By the time he cleared his vision, she had an arrow nocked a mere three feet away. He sighed. She was becoming far too comfortable pointing that thing at him.
“That won’t kill me, Aila,” he said in a dry tone.
“I’m not trying to kill you. Just injure you so you’ll let me go.”
“Never!” he barked, letting his anger show. To hell with redemption, he would scare her if it meant she’d be safe.
“I have to do this, Marcelo.”
He shook his head. “Safety comes first, querida. Always. I will stop you from this foolishness. You know it is only a matter of time.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Try.” It was one word. A direct challenge.
“I’m glad you’ve found your courage, querida, but I’m disappointed in the way you’ve chosen to display it. Will you not include me in your plans?”
“You’ll stop me. You’ll pretend to go along with it at first then stop me before I fulfill my purpose. Before I learn who I am.”
“I know who you are!” he roared, causing her to jump in alarm. “You are Aila Quinn. Formerly a frightened foster child. Now an intelligent, charming, generous, and, by the gods, fully fucking backboned fae woman! And you belong with me! By my side. In my bed. Anything we do, Aila, we do it together. Because you are mine!” He took a deep breath and, with a pained expression, he asked, “Isn’t that enough for you?”
Aila’s eyes were wide with shock. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. When her brows furrowed and her mouth snapped shut for the third time, he took advantage of her shaken confidence. Like a cobra, his hand shot out to grab her bow.
But it was too late. Searing pain erupted in his throat. Hot liquid spilled from his neck flowing down his chest. She’d shot him. He leaned over on his knees barely able to stay upright.
Coughing and sputtering as blood gushed from the wound, he said in a raspy voice, “You didn’t hesitate.” He was almost proud of her.
She slung the quiver onto her back and the bow over her shoulder. “I’m not going to apologize either.”
He sunk to the ground unable to support his weight as his broken windpipe cut off his oxygen. He watched her, though his vision dimmed, as she dabbed something on her skin. Then her scent disappeared.
Scheming little witch. I can’t believe she shot me. She gave him one last look, her eyes filled with confusion. Ah, she doubts her decision. Good. I hope she chokes on her guilt.
He could no longer speak, but with his eyes he told her, “I will find you and you will regret this.”
Did she hear him? She winced. Yes, she heard loud and clear. He watched her walk away then the world faded to black.
Chapter 12
What have I done?
Aila paced miserably in a clearing about a mile away from where she’d shot Marcelo in the throat and left him defenseless on the ground. She chewed her nails and contemplated her next move.
But then Marcelo had opened his big, fat mouth and proclaimed she belonged with him. As if they had some kind of future together.
“You are mine!” he’d said.
She was a woman of the twenty first century, she didn’t belong to anyone. Then why did that one sentence send shivers down her spine and fill her heart with so much warmth she thought it might burst?
“Shit!” That one heated, ten-second rant had changed everything. Now she wasn’t so confident in her decision to leave him behind. She’d seen the anger in his eyes, which she’d expected. What she hadn’t expected was the hurt. The fear.
He was overprotective to a fault and now he was paying for it. He’d been teaching her to defend herself but for what purpose? To hide behind him when danger approached?
I don’t think so!
Her stomach lurched with dread making her want to vomit. Her muscles yearned to run back the way she’d come. Back to Marcelo. Her anchor. Her…
Stop it! This is no time to get emotional!
She kicked a loose rock across the ground, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. It was time for her to take a risk, jump in with two feet and hope she would land on them. She straightened her spine and pulled out her phone. With Kieran’s weird business card in the other hand, she took a deep breath and dialed the number. It rang once…twice…then a movement several yards beside her caught her eye. She ended the call and slipped the phone in her pocket.
Kieran, in all his fae glory, strolled towards her, hands in the pockets of his khaki linen pants. The billowy button down shirt combined with his flowing slacks made him look like he belonged on the beach of some exotic Caribbean resort, not stalking a fae in the Colorado Rockies. Oh, but he was just as yummy as the last time she’d seen him.
Another immortal male who always looked like he just stepped out of a Calvin Klein advertisement no matter the circumstances? It just wasn’t fair.
He smiled when he spotted her, but as he grew closer his smile faded. Just a few feet away his gaze locked onto her neck. She’d forgotten about the bite mark. Her fingers grazed it self-consciously.
“I’ll kill him,” he said in a dark voice that rivaled Marcelo’s. His black look was a stark contrast to the charming, crooked smile a moment ago. “Just say the word.”
“No. I’m okay.” She forced her hands away from the wound. “I already shot him in the throat.”
Two blonde eyebrows shot up in a look of surprise. “Really?”
She nodded.
“Well, remind me never to get on your bad side.”
She gave him a half-hearted smile.
“So, do you like my gift?”
“Yes, thank you.”
His eyes flickered from her face to the bow still slung over her back. “Can you wield it?”
With a proud smirk she positioned it in her hands. “You tell me.”
Aila had never been the over-confident type, but since becoming fae, that immortal arrogance began rearing its big, ugly head. Besides, why should I be humble about something I’m truly good at? It wasn’t as if she’d ever been good at anything before.
So she might have been showing off a bit when she pointed to a small spot of lichen growing on the bark of a tree half a football field away. The fact that she could even see the thing was amazing in itself. Drawing an arrow from the quiver, she placed it on the bow, pulled the string back, and let loose, smiling at the hum of the arrow piercing through the air. The sound alone was gratifying, but when the arrow sunk into the lichen indicating a perfect shot, she stepped back in satisfaction.
Kieran smiled. “Very good. You're becoming a right fae warrior.” With one big step he was at her side, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off his body.
At first glance he looked tall and lean. But up close, she could see the contours of his muscles under his shirt. Different from Marcelo, who was all brawn; this was a perfectly honed athlete.
“I have another gift.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small brown leather strap. “It’s an arm guard.” He held out his hand. Meaning for her to do what?
She stared at it.
With another one of those heart-breaking smiles, he said, “Give me your arm. I won’t bite.”
Tentatively she placed her hand in his.
“Typical American,” he said with a tsk and a smirk. “So mistrustful.”
She wanted to point to her neck as proof of her hesitancy, but the reminder only made her heart hurt. He held her wrist gently and inspected the inside of her forearm. His touch felt like electricity. Marcelo’s touch was gruff, but grounding – safe and secure. But Kieran’s was like a buzz, shooting sparks across her skin. Lightly he smoothed a finger over the welts on her arm. The bow string had snapped against it a few times, forming red stripes on her tender skin.
“Many archers wear an arm guard to protect against this,” he said, then strapped the leather on. She couldn’t stop a small smile forming on her lips. Now she looked like a real kick-ass fae archer. Kieran held her arm a little longer than necessary, adding an uncomfortable awkwardness to the air. She searched for a distraction.
“Hey, what happened to your accent?” she asked. She exhaled a tense breath when he released her.
“I’m sorry, I may have misled you. I don’t really have an accent. I’ve lived in America the past eighteen years. I thought that if I sounded like an Irish fae, you’d trust me easier.”
“Well, I did,” she admitted, making a mental note to be more careful. “What are you doing in America?”
He gave her a weighted glare. “Looking for you.”
“Me?”
He kept his head tipped up in that regal way. “Yes. We’re to be married.”
What? Her shock must have been clear on her face because Kieran burst out laughing. It was so light and carefree she almost laughed with him. Only it wasn’t funny. Arranged marriage? Not for this full-blooded American chick!
“You should see your face!” he said.
She gave him her fiercest scowl.
He cleared his throat and reined in the last of the chuckles. “Don’t look so frightened. I’ve been in America long enough to respect democracy and free will.” With a sardonic smile he added, “I watch Jersey Shore and eat Twinkies with the best of them.” Then he winked.
At once her scowl disappeared. He’s absolutely adorable.
“I won’t be forcing you into anything you don’t want for yourself.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Umm…thanks?”
He chuckled with a superior air that reminded her of Marcelo. “Will you come with me to Méadú ar Neart, the Unseelie fae kingdom?”
She felt a wave of heartache at leaving Marcelo behind, but she was here to meet her destiny. No more hiding in fear. She took a deep breath and nodded. Kieran’s grin was a satisfying reward.
It all happened in a matter of seconds. He held out a metal device and the air in front of them began to change, rippling in the hazy shape of a doorway. Before she could question him, he grabbed her hand and pulled her through, a shocking sensation that left her cold and shivering.
Then she was standing in a patch of green grass, surrounded by rock outcroppings. The sun arched high in the sky but a warm breeze tickled her skin. She shielded her eyes from the blinding sun and looked up at Kieran, her face twisted in confusion. He was still holding her hand.
His smile comforted her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It was easier to show you than to explain.”
“W-what the hell was that?” she whispered as she pulled away.
He
held out the device to show her. It was dark metal in a roundish shape the same size as his palm covered with strange etchings. “Ostium Invenire. A Door Maker. It creates shortcuts between places. Like wormholes. A sorcerer who aligned with us commissioned it. As I’m sure you’ve heard, the Unseelie fae have been hunted for centuries. We had to resort to finding any means of defense we can.” He looked down at the device. “Including ones that give us a quick getaway.” Then he shoved it in his pocket.
She gazed at the view around them. Behind her green rolling hills continued as far as she could see. Purple and yellow wildflowers dotted the grassy knolls. It was all so perfectly quaint, like a photo straight out of a coffee table book. She half-expected a herd of sheep to come strolling by.
A steep incline of cliffs towered over them leading to the top of a small mountain. Since she couldn’t see any signs of a fae kingdom, castle, or even a road leading there, she hoped Kieran’s plan didn’t involve climbing over the mountain.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“The home of your ancestors.” His lips quirked as he stared down at her. “Ireland.”
Then the rock before them started to rumble. The cliffs shook and tiny pebbles plunged to the ground below. Aila stepped back as the rock split apart, sliding into the rest of the mountain like a pocket door. Behind the shifting rock a dirt road appeared. And far off in the distance, the Unseelie fae kingdom glistened in the sun. The fortress was a vision of strength, mimicking the cliff face, dwarfing the city below.
“H-how?” she asked, stunned almost speechless.
“Magic, lass.” His mouth curved into a sexy smile. “It’s good to be fae.”
Chapter 13
The Unseelie fae kingdom stood proud and glorious as she glided towards it, pulled by some magnetic force beyond her control. From a distance it shimmered, like it had been doused with a giant bottle of silver glitter.
