Dark Enchantment

by Anya Bast

  Emmaline held out a hand as if to stay their bickering. “I’m going now . . . okay?”

  “Yeah, okay, Emmaline.” Kieran pushed tiredly up to his feet and saw her out the door.

  Once it was closed, he leaned against it and spoke without looking back at Charlotte. “We’re on the top floor of the Black Tower. All windows lead to bloody tragedy on the cobblestone of Piefferburg Square and this is the only door.” He shot the dead bolt, turned, and dropped the key down his pants. “Come get the key if you want it bad enough.” He grinned and winked at her. “Maybe you do.”

  “You’re a bastard.”

  “So they tell me. Try to escape and you’ll find yourself thrown into Aeric O’Malley’s forge down in the depths of this tower. Ask Emmaline how pleasant it is to stay there, she’s spent many nights.”

  “I thought she was married to him.”

  “She is. They weren’t always married, though. Once they were mortal enemies. Kind of like you and me.”

  “Yeah, but I guarantee we’ll stay enemies.”

  He bared his teeth at her. “That’s for certain, princess.”

  She only shook her head and sank back against the cushions.

  “If you’re hungry, there’s the kitchen.” He jerked his thumb to the left. “Don’t expect me to cook tonight. Oh, and I don’t think you’re the type, but don’t get any bright ideas about slitting my throat while I’m sleeping. The bond will kill you if you do.”

  “What?” She sat bolt upright. “What are you talking about?”

  “The bond.” He pushed a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to get into this now. “It’s a sort of mating thing. Man and woman, bound by magick, drawn together in the hope caring will blossom.”

  “Mating . . . bond? Caring?” She swallowed hard.

  He grinned at her. “Yeah. You remember the mating part, right?”

  She blushed, but it was clearly from rage, not maidenly apprehension. “Is it like a love spell or something?”

  “Have you fallen in love with me already?” Normally love was meant to evolve from the bond—organically, not through magick—but not in this case. Love was something he wanted no part of—could not have any part of.

  She narrowed her eyes at him and spat out, “Hardly. In fact, my emotions for you are decidedly on the opposite end of the spectrum.”

  “Yeah, same here, princess. Don’t sweat it, okay?” He walked toward his bedroom. “Guest bedroom’s over there. Sleep well.”

  “Hey!”

  He stopped.

  “You still haven’t explained the bond thing to me.”

  “I’ll tell you more in the morning. I need to sleep now. Like I said, just don’t kill me. To kill me is to kill yourself.” He gave her fake bright smile. “Night!”

  CHARLOTTE stretched and yawned, sunlight streaming in through the huge windows of Kieran’s living room. Once Kieran had retired for the night, she’d face-planted on the couch before she could assuage the hunger in her belly or make it to the guest bedroom. The stress of her situation had been no match for going so long without sleep and her body had just shut down.

  Now her body was demanding food. Her stomach rumbled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this ravenous.

  She sat up, working the kinks out of her shoulders and eyeing the throw pillow she’d crashed on for any drool spots. She felt dirty—again—because she’d slept in her borrowed clothes. Before heading to the kitchen, she went to the window. The sun was high in the sky, so it had to be around noon. A wave of guilt hit her for sleeping in so late. What would her father think?

  Suppressing a laugh at how absurd a reaction that was under the circumstances, she gazed around the apartment. She could definitely tell Kieran was a bachelor. The place was clean and comfortable, but somewhat spartan and definitely lacking a woman’s touch.

  She thought of her own house. How she loved that place. It was her own space, away from her job and the demands of her family. She’d enjoyed decorating it just so, selecting everything to please only herself. It was her haven and she wished like crazy she was in it right now.

  She looked out over Piefferburg Square below her. It bustled with activity. Kieran’s apartment was very high, but she could still make out the mélange of various fae creatures that hurried like ants below her to work, school, lunch, or wherever. Not that much different than a square filled with human beings.

  Directly across from the Black Tower sat the Rose Tower. Her breath caught looking at it. Rose quartz and crystal glimmered and blinked in the bright rays of the sun. Over there were the more benign kind of fae. All humanoid, it was said. Purebred Tuatha Dé Danann, the gentle sidhe race from which it was said all fae sprang. They were white magick practitioners. Their magick didn’t maim or draw blood, not like the Unseelie.

  The Unseelie took all fae, no matter their lineage or fae breed. As long as their magick could harm in some way, could injure or kill, they were in. Kieran Aindréas Cairbre Aimhrea was most assuredly of the dark magick variety, considering what he’d done to her. She wondered what the full extents of his powers were.

  She wondered about this damned bond he’d drawn her into.

  Where was he, anyway? Still sleeping? She entered his bedroom, making as much noise as she could to wake him. It was past time he gave her some answers. She slammed the door open. He didn’t stir.

  He lay sprawled lengthwise across the mattress as though he moved a lot while he dreamed—or invaded other people’s dreams. An empty vase stood on the night table near his bed. She picked it up and dropped it on the hardwood floor. It didn’t break, but it made a nice thunk. He still didn’t wake up.

  Doing something like deliberately dropping a vase was not normally in her character. Normally she was far meeker. She’d never punched anyone in her life. This situation was bringing out the worst in her. Or maybe it was just Kieran.

  She stepped closer to the bed, examining her enemy while he was in such a vulnerable state. He was definitely good-looking. He was what her friend Marcie would have called beefcake. He wore a pair of dark blue sweatpants. She could just see them under the sheet twisted around his waist. His upper torso was bare, revealing a powerful chest and muscular arms. His longish dark hair lay tousled around a face that was compelling in its masculinity. He was not what she would call handsome, but the brutal lines of his face were intriguing, appealing . . . attractive, if she didn’t know any better. And she knew better.

  Oh, yes, he was quite pretty . . . until he opened his mouth.

  She leaned over the bed near his head, her gaze tracing the strong line of his jaw with its slight cleft and his full lips that seemed not to fit with the rest of him. The lips were expressive, emotional. They were like a puzzle piece that didn’t groove with the others. Especially not his eyes when they were open. His were the first pair of brown eyes that she’d ever known to look hard and cold. Normally eyes like that always appeared warm. Clearly life had not always been kind to him.

  What had happened in this man’s life that would cause pain to be so apparent?

  Of course, her first mistake was thinking he was a man. He wasn’t a man. He wasn’t even human; he was fae.

  Just then Kieran opened his eyes and looked straight into her face.

  She opened her mouth to demand he tell her more about this bond, but she found herself flying through the air instead. Giving a surprised scream, she landed flat on her back on the bed beneath him, his big body pinning hers. The position brought back a flood of memories from the dream.

  Smooth muscled chest sliding against her bare breasts, the heat of his breath on her throat. Teeth nipping at her skin and making her shiver with pleasure. His knee sliding between her thighs, parting them . . .

  Except this was no dream. This was real. His real body on her real body.

  SEVEN

  AFTER a heartbeat of complete and utter shock, she screamed and flailed, raining hits and kicks against him.

  His grip found
her upper arms and tightened. He straddled her waist and bore down on her until she couldn’t move. “Stop it,” he commanded. “Be quiet. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She took a deep, measured breath. “Then get off me.” Her voice came out a low, spitting mad growl.

  He rolled off her and swung around to sit on the edge of his bed. “If you don’t want me to grab you and throw you down on the bed, don’t hover over me while I’m sleeping.” He ground the heel of his hand into his eye.

  She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face. “Are you saying I surprised you?”

  He looked at her and rolled his eyes. “Of course you did.”

  She made a scoffing sound. “I made so much noise walking in here, the idea I surprised you by merely leaning over you is ridiculous.”

  He gave her a suspicious look. “Why were you leaning over me, anyway? Couldn’t get enough of me from the dream?”

  Giving him a glare, she pushed off the other side of bed. Sitting on the edge, she muttered, “You wish.”

  His gaze swept her appreciatively, his pupils growing dark. “Maybe I do.”

  Heat rushed through her body at the look in his eyes. Her face flushed with anger at the answering little thrum of desire that pulsed through her. No, Charlotte. No.

  His head dropped and he pushed his hand through his hair. “Why did you wake me up, anyway?”

  She stood, ready to launch into her demands, but instead immediately became light-headed, and staggered back. She sank down on the bed before she fell. “Whoa.”

  “Did you eat anything last night?”

  “No. I crashed before I could get to the kitchen.”

  “You need to eat.”

  “I need answers more than food.” Her jaw worked. “My primary concern right now, among so many, is the blasted bond thing you tricked me into.”

  He studied her for a long moment. “Come on. I owe you answers. You’ll get them over breakfast.” He got up, and without another glance in her direction, walked out of the room.

  Fine. If she had to break bread with him to get an explanation, she would. Anyway, she really needed coffee.

  She followed him into the kitchen where he was busy pulling things out of the refrigerator and cupboards. She walked to the kitchen window, pulled her hands up into the sleeves of her sweater, and hugged herself. Every room of his apartment seemed to offer a good view of the square. While he cooked, she gazed outside. Below her, the area was much less packed. The lunch crowd must have gone back to work.

  The kitchen was lovely, white cabinets, stainless steel appliances, center island, wine rack. This was the not the sparse kitchen of a bachelor; it was the kitchen of a cook. That had to be an accident. She couldn’t imagine Kieran being particularly domestic.

  Soon the wonderful smell of crackling ham on the stove reached her nose. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered simultaneously.

  “I hope you like ham and oatmeal.”

  She turned. “I would eat a boiled tire right now, but, yes, I do like ham and oatmeal.”

  He motioned to a place set at the table for her. A bowl of thick, creamy oatmeal sat on a placemat with a heavy dollop of honey in the middle. To the side rested a small bowl of raisins. She tried not to dash across the small distance and bolt the whole meal.

  She sat and raised a spoonful of the oatmeal to her lips. Closing her eyes, she stifled a moan. The oatmeal she’d eaten in the past had been bland, but this was full of flavor and texture. Better than cake. Or maybe she was just hungry.

  She looked over at him. He stood at the stove tending the ham. Barefoot and bare-chested, his hair a tangle, he made a nice picture—if she chose to see him that way. Which she didn’t.

  “Is it good?”

  “It’s delicious. The best oatmeal I’ve ever had.” She dug in with gusto.

  “Coffee?”

  She nearly swooned. “Please. Black.”

  He put a cup down near her, along with a plate of thick, cooked ham. After fixing himself a cup of coffee, he sank down across from her.

  She looked up from her oatmeal. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “Later.” He cleared his throat and leaned forward a little. “About the bond.”

  She set her spoon down and sipped her coffee, waiting expectantly to know her fate. The food that had tasted so good a few moments before turned to rock in her belly.

  “I told you it was a mating bond, but that does not make it a love bond.”

  She leaned back in her seat. “What does that mean? Whenever you want to get laid, you use this bond thing?”

  He gave a humorless chuckle. “I don’t need a bond thing to get laid, Charlotte. I can do that just fine on my own. This is something different. It’s a magickal perk of being a dream wraith. It’s meant to draw a woman into a romantic relationship. Love is normally its primary objective.” A cold smile crossed his mouth. “Not in this case.”

  No kidding. “So, do you do this often? Use this bond on humans to force them into Piefferburg?”

  “The bond magick can only be used once. You’re the first, will be the last, and, believe me, I did it under duress.”

  “Sex with me was really that bad, huh?”

  His dark brown eyes went immediately molten gold. His gaze lingered on her, filling with erotic promise. She shifted in her chair and cleared her throat, suddenly feeling warm. “Actually, that was the best part of this deal. You were surprisingly . . . energetic that night.”

  She went crimson. Then she picked up her fork and waggled it at him. “Except it wasn’t real sex, remember? It was a just a mind f . . .”

  “Fuck. Go ahead, you can say it.”

  She ducked her head and dug into the ham.

  “I have had the ability to forge this kind of a bond all my life. It’s part of my magick. I am the only Unseelie alive who is able to do it, but I never intended to use this gift. However, when it became clear that the only way to lure the human woman we needed—you—was to use the bond, I did it. It is a risk for me. Not a large risk, but a risk.”

  “Risk?” She frowned at him. “Does that mean it’s a risk for me, too?”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Only if we—you and I—fall in love.”

  “Oh.” She leaned back in her chair with a relieved thump. “Well, no risk then. You’re not exactly my type.”

  “Nor are you mine.”

  She studied him. “What would happen if we did ever . . . fall in love?”

  “You and I would both die a slow and horrible death and be claimed by the slaugh.” He smiled. “I’m cursed, you see.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh.”

  She made a face. The slaugh was an army of unforgiven dead, the worst of the fae sentenced to live out eternity as enslaved warriors as punishment for their misdeeds. “That would suck.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged and took a sip of coffee as if they were discussing a bad weather forecast and not eternal damnation.

  “Of course you’re under a curse.” She shrugged. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

  “Was that sarcasm?”

  “Maybe a little. I’m not really sure how to respond to all this. So, how does one become cursed, anyway?”

  “You become cursed by a witch or a fae with the ability. In my case, it was a witch hundreds of years ago. Cursed to never be able to know love.”

  She studied him for a long moment. He said it like it didn’t matter, or maybe he’d just had a long time to get used to it. “God, I really am in faery now, aren’t I?”

  “Deep in the heart.”

  She chewed her lip. “Wait a minute. Hypothetically speaking, since neither of us have any interest in the other—”

  “Except for sexually.”

  She almost swallowed her tongue. He was interested in her sexually? “Uh. Okay, anyway, since we’re not falling in love anytime soon, but even if we did . . . fall in love, I’m human. How could I be claimed by the slaugh after my death? The slaugh is only for the
fae.”

  His lips twisted and he raised his gaze to hold hers. “If a human falls in love with a fae, the deep way it would take for this curse to take hold, you’d be considered fae enough for the slaugh. It’s happened before. I am not the first man to suffer a curse like this one.”

  Her jaw locked. “I want the hell out of this place.”

  “I want you to get the hell out, too, but not yet.” He stood and started clearing the dishes away. “The upside is that the compulsion part of the magick is now dissolved. The downside is the bond magick will force us to stay together for the next few days. I don’t like it either.”

  “Your mother never sent you to charm school, did she?”

  “My mother died while birthing my twin. She never sent me anywhere except out into the world as an orphan.” The slightest note of bitterness tinged his words.

  “I’m sorry.” She looked down into her lap. Having lost her mother at six, she could relate to that. It forged an unwelcome connection with him.

  “It was a long time ago.” He put the dishes in the sink and began to rinse them.

  She frowned. “I thought fae fertility rates were so low. You and your brother, having been twins, must have been very rare.”

  “Fae fertility is in the hands of the goddess Danu. Nothing sways her will. Birth control doesn’t work, nothing we can do influences whether or not a fae woman will conceive. Danu alone decides. Siblings are very rare. There are Ronan and Niall Quinn, me and my twin brother, and the Three Sisters.”

  “The Three Sisters?”

  “No one knows what happened to them for sure. We think two of them escaped the Great Sweep. No one knows what happened to the third. They’re the only set of three biological sisters known to the fae. All three of them are highly magicked. The middle sister possesses all the magickal traits of her older and younger siblings. They’re also the only known set of siblings to share a psychic connection, the way my brother and I did.”