Dark Enchantment

by Anya Bast

  He followed her down the stairs and into a nearby café. She ordered them both drinks, buying him the oolong tea he normally drank in order to prove an important—and unsettling—point. They knew a lot more about him than he knew about them.

  Máire settled opposite him at a small outside table. She pushed the cup of tea toward him with a sickeningly sweet smile. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” She stretched and looked up into the brilliant blue spring sky.

  He studied the container of oolong with mistrust. “Cut the chitchat and tell me why I’m here.”

  Her gaze found his and grew cold. She leaned toward him and spoke in a soft voice. “You fucked up last year, Gideon. It was my people, not yours, who tried to stop Emmaline Siobhan Keara Gallagher from securing the second piece of the bosca fadbh.”

  He could smile poisonously, too. “And you failed.”

  She set her cup down. “My sister, Meghann, died trying to stop it from happening, Amberdoyal.” Now there was no smile on her face, mocking, poisonous, or otherwise. There was murder in her expression, and for the first time since he’d met her, Gideon felt threatened. “And you did nothing. You let the assassin Emmaline roll right over you with her glamour. She danced in and out of Piefferburg and got them the second piece.”

  Gideon gritted his teeth. He didn’t need to be reminded. Though it wasn’t his failure, it had been Maddoc’s. “Do you have a point?”

  Máire sat back and sipped her tea. “You need help. Perhaps we would all be better off if we cooperated.”

  “The Phaendir don’t work with fae.”

  “Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “So you know the location of the third piece of the bosca fadbh, then? You don’t need us?” She leaned toward him again. “That’s the prideful way we thought last year, too. The free fae don’t work with the Phaendir. Look where it got us.”

  He stared at his tea, now growing cold. He’d been poisoned via tea once—although it had been his own doing. No way was he drinking anything that had touched this woman’s hands. “If you know where it is, why don’t you take it, destroy it?”

  “First of all, the bosca fadbh cannot be destroyed. Do you not read your history, Amberdoyal? Second, if we could take the piece, don’t you think we would?”

  “Why can’t you take it?”

  “It’s spelled. Under a faery enchantment.” She ran her finger on the top of the table. “Only a very, very special person can remove it.” Máire raised her gaze to his. “It’s like the sword in the stone, immovable but for the right hand.”

  “Whose hand?”

  She smiled and then stood. “I think that’s enough for today. Wait for Liam to call you again with further instructions.”

  Gideon rose from the table, enraged. The cup of tea jostled with the table, sloshing over the rim. “You can’t order me around, bitch.”

  She leaned near his ear and whispered, “Looks like I just did, Gideon.” And then she was gone.

  “I’VE never taken any self-defense classes.”

  Kieran glanced at Charlotte. They were on their way back from having breakfast with Aislinn and Gabriel and had just turned down the corridor that would lead them to his apartment. He had no idea what had prompted that comment. “Okay.”

  She made a frustrated sound. “I meant that if I’m attacked again, I have no way to defend myself. You know how to fight. Emmaline knows how to fight. Me, I have no idea. I’m defenseless.”

  “You’re human, Charlotte.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “You’re mostly human. Human in all the ways that count. Even if you did know how to defend yourself physically, you’d still be about as threatening as cotton candy to most fae.”

  “You mean because I have no magick.”

  “Yeah. Especially here in the dark court where almost everyone has magick that can kill or at least harm.”

  “But it’s the light court that’s sending bad guys for me.”

  “We think. As you heard Aislinn at breakfast, we’re no closer to knowing if it was the Summer Queen who sent that man or not. Anyway, even if it is the Summer Queen, she’s not going to be sending fluffy fae who can only pull white rabbits out their hats. They’ll be sending the bad asses, the rogue Unseelie for hire.”

  “I know I can’t do much against forces like that.” She blew out a breath, moving a tendril of long dark hair away from her face. “But Emmaline doesn’t have magick that can kill or maim. Her power is with glamour. Yet she can still kick ass.”

  He stifled a smile. Her language was becoming more and more colorful the longer she stayed in Piefferburg. “She’s a trained assassin. And even when she was a free fae outside Piefferburg, she worked with the HFF and was skilled in self-defense. As Seelie Tuatha Dé go, she’s one of the more deadly.”

  “I’m just saying I would feel better if I knew how to defend myself. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to take down some badass rogue Unseelie assassin bare-handed, but I could at least fight back. Right now all I can do is quote the tax code at them.”

  His lips quirked. “Okay. I can teach you a little.”

  She studied him. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll use it on you?”

  “Do you think you could take me down bare-handed?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

  Her gaze took him in from head to toe. “I might try.”

  He touched his face where he still wore her bruise. “You already have.” They reached his apartment. He unlocked the door and they entered. “Anyway, if I teach you this, I expect you to try.”

  She entered the apartment and whirled around, hands in fists. “All right! Let’s get going, then!”

  He studied her boxing stance. Reaching out, he readjusted her fists. “Rule number one, princess. Always make sure your thumbs are outside when you punch, otherwise you’ll break them.” He frowned at her, remembering the nice uppercut she’d given him when they first met. “Thought you knew that already.”

  She grinned. “Just testing you.”

  He squinted at her, realizing something was missing. “You were wearing glasses before. Don’t you need them?”

  “I have astigmatism, but I can see without them. My glasses just make everything sharper, like going from regular to HDTV.”

  He jerked his head at the guest room. “Go change into something you can move in. We have time before Emmaline is supposed to take you shopping.”

  She returned in a pair of black sweats, a plain white T-shirt, and bare feet. Her hair was twisted up and clipped at the back of her head. He hated that she looked really good.

  He hated it even more that this endeavor was going to require his hands on her.

  She stood in the middle of the area he’d cleared, her hands on her hips. He studied her. “Okay. Rule number two: in a confrontation, never back down. Display confidence, even if you’re scared shitless.”

  She spread her feet, raised her hands, palms-up, and waggled her fingers toward herself. “Come on, I won’t bite.”

  He was sure she was joking about wanting him to attack her, but he rushed her anyway, just to see how she would react. The surprised look on her face transformed to sheer terror within about half a breath, but she didn’t scream and run, the way he’d expected.

  She steadied her feet and tried to body check him as he made contact with her. He pulled his weight back at the last moment but couldn’t quite stop himself completely. Knowing that he was the one body checking her, he wrapped his arms around her and swung her as they went down. He crashed to the area rug on his back and she landed on his stomach and chest, making him grunt.

  He lay there, dragging air into his lungs and seeing stars while she sprawled on his chest, no worse for wear. That hadn’t exactly been the way he’d meant for that to go.

  “You didn’t run.” His voice came out a pained wheeze.

  “Run? Why would I do that?” She lifted her head. Her face was only inches from his. Her eyes widened in surprise.

  Lady, she was pretty. He loved the dusting o
f freckles across the bridge of her nose and the way her black hair set off her porcelain skin. “I admire that you stood your ground, but rule number three: if a man twice your size rushes you, you run. From a point of pure body mass, you have no chance against him.”

  “Emmaline can take men your size.”

  He flipped her and pinned her to the floor. Hovering above her, he growled into her face, “We talked about Emmaline’s differences before.”

  She struggled against him. “Get off me.”

  “Since you think you can”—he raised his eyebrows—“make me.”

  “Fine. I will.” She pushed against him, stronger than he would’ve guessed.

  She almost dislodged him and they tussled. In the fray, his lower body ended up pressing very intimately against hers. She wiggled and he realized immediately this was a bad idea. His cock had gone hard as steel.

  She went still, her pupils going dark and her breathing growing heavier.

  He stared into her wide eyes. This reminded him of the dream and, judging by the look on her face, he wasn’t the only one.

  Her warm breasts rubbing against the bare skin of his chest, her whispers for more in his ear . . . His hand caressing the round cheek of her rear, down the smooth skin of her thigh to the sweet back of her knee . . . Grasping her there and shifting her wider, spreading her thighs so he could slip between them . . . The press of the head of his cock into her hot, silken core . . . Thrusting deep . . . His mouth on hers, tongues twined as he pushed them both straight into ecstasy . . .

  His gaze dropped to her mouth, a heavy arousal settling into his body. He wanted to find out if she felt that good in real life. Did she taste as sweet as he remembered? His head dipped toward hers.

  “Kieran?” Her voice came out a whisper, half entreaty, half protest.

  He stilled. What was he doing?

  “We shouldn’t,” she murmured.

  No, we shouldn’t. He backed off her like she was made of asbestos.

  Rising, he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the images from the dream that were taunting him. “Sorry.”

  She pushed to her elbows, hair tousled, lips parted, and eyes heavy-lidded. “Forget about it.”

  That was going to be difficult.

  Swallowing hard, she slowly rose to her feet and cleared her throat. “Okay, that was rule three. Now teach me rule four.” Her voice sounded shaky.

  Yes, better to pretend it had never happened. He liked that plan.

  He spent the day teaching her the basics. How to target a man’s eyes, throat, and nose. How to break a hold when someone took her from behind by jabbing her elbow into her attacker’s solar plexus.

  What Charlotte lacked magickally, she made up for in enthusiasm, and by the time they were done, he was black-and-blue and proud of his student.

  But he still wanted her.

  THIRTEEN

  WHEN Emmaline came to collect Charlotte for their “girls’ day out,” she could barely move, let alone think about going to a ball. She smiled wanly at Emmaline from where she sat in Kieran’s living room, freshly showered and totally exhausted. A night with a good movie and bowl of popcorn sounded much better than dinner and dancing.

  Although, remembering the very close call she’d had with Kieran on the floor, maybe it was better she got away from him for a little while. If she hadn’t stopped him—stopped herself—she had a feeling they would have done a whole lot more than just wrestle. In fact, she guessed self-defense training would have been forgotten entirely for a much more pleasurable pastime. A flush touched her cheeks.

  “Come on,” Emmaline said, gently slapping Charlotte’s aching thigh, “Just think of me as your faery godmother.”

  Figuring this might be her only chance to ever go to a real faery ball, not to mention use someone else’s credit card with impunity, she let Emmaline lead her out the door.

  “Emmaline?” They stopped outside in the hallway at the sound of Kieran’s voice. He jerked his head at Charlotte. “Be careful.”

  Emmaline pressed her hand to her chest and smiled. “I’ll guard her with my life.”

  Kieran’s gaze met Charlotte’s for a lingering moment. Strange tendrils of emotion curled through her gut at the dark, tormented look in his eyes. “I’ll see you tonight.” Then he nodded and the door slowly closed.

  She fell into step beside Emmaline. “He seems like a lonely man.”

  “Kieran? Oh, yes. It’s not surprising, of course, considering his history. His life was pretty tragic before the curse, after the death of his brother . . .” She trailed off.

  “I understand you’re the one who killed him.”

  “Yes.” Emmaline sighed. “I’m not saying that Kieran’s twin was a good man who deserved to live, but I can say his death weighs on me. All the lives I took back in those days weigh on me.”

  “He also mentioned that you have a bright and shining new life.”

  Emmaline flashed a dazzling smile. “He means my marriage to Aeric. Yes, I’m very happy, though it took me a long, long time to get that way. Centuries.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t imagine having the life span of a fae. You lived outside of Piefferburg for a long time, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. In fact, Aeric is not my first husband.” Emmaline glanced at her. “I was actually married to a human man named David Sullivan for years. He works for the HFF. But it didn’t work out.” They reached the front doors of the Black Tower and exited onto the street. “My heart always belonged to Aeric, I guess.”

  Charlotte fell silent for a few moments, wondering what it would be like to share a love so strong it could endure centuries.

  “David is a wonderful man, though.” She grinned at her. “Hey, maybe you should look him up when you get out of here. You two might hit it off.”

  Charlotte grimaced. “Thanks, but I think Kieran has put me off dating for a while.”

  Emmaline laughed.

  As they walked, Emmaline told her more about David and her marriage to him. The small talk put her at ease. Finally Charlotte and Emmaline ended up in a section of stores near the Black Tower that seemed swanky, even by human standards.

  “Here we are.” Emmaline led her into a dress shop with a black-and-gold awning and matching paint in the front window that declared it Cecilia’s.

  Cecilia, tall and reed slender, was, in fact, on hand to actually wait on them. Charlotte was sure she could encompass the woman’s waist with her two hands. Her hair and eyebrows were the color of sapphires. So bright it was like someone had crushed a whole pile of the gems and then wove it out into hair. If Charlotte had been anywhere other than in Piefferburg she would have immediately pegged the color as artificial. However, taken with the matching color of the woman’s eyes, her tiny, tiny figure, and the gorgeous mahogany shade of her skin, she knew Cecilia was all strange, all real, all fae, all beautiful.

  Emmaline greeted Cecilia with a kiss and a smile. “This is my friend Charlotte. She needs a dress for the ball tonight.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Cecilia, walking around her with an index finger to her full red lips. Suddenly Charlotte felt like so much meat. “You have beautiful hair and skin.”

  “Thank you,” Charlotte said with a smile.

  “You have a nice body, too. Not overweight, yet not scrawny. You could use a little help in the height department, though.”

  “Not much we can do about that.” Charlotte gave a nervous laugh, then imagined some of kind of magick that might stretch her out. Her smile faded. “Is there?”

  “Shoes, my dear,” said Cecilia, still circling her. “Magnificent shoes that will give you height. Hmmm . . . you need some help with your . . . um . . . chest area, too. A good bra will fix that.” Cecilia continued the vaguely insulting tour of her person, tapping her free hand against her frowning mouth. “We’ll have to do something about those bushy eyebrows.”

  “Hey!”

  “That hair needs a good trim, too. Highlights wouldn’t hurt. Hmm, l
et’s see. . . . what else . . .”

  Apparently she was not only getting a new gown, she was getting a whole makeover.

  KIERAN slid his finger into the collar of his shirt and pulled, trying to loosen it. This was the first ball he’d attended in years. For a reason. He hated these things.

  No one cared if he never came. This wasn’t the frivolous Rose Tower. They had real work to do in the Black and socializing was not the purpose of being for the Unseelie. The only reason he’d come tonight was because Charlotte was attending and he needed to be near her.

  He did agree that this ball might help relax Charlotte’s opinion of the Unseelie. And the faster they got to the memories they needed, the faster Charlotte would be out of his life.

  Not that she was all bad. In fact, he was coming to like her. She was intelligent and brave. All in all, she wasn’t what he’d expected. In fact, she seemed to surprise him at every turn.

  He definitely wanted her.

  Remembering the feel of her body under his made him break out in a sweat. He’d wanted to push that so much further than it had gone. If she hadn’t stopped him, he would have eased her pants off her and taken her right there on the floor. He’d seen the look on her face and had felt the way her breathing had quickened; she would have let him.

  Maybe it would have been a good thing. Maybe fucking her would have ridden his body of the fever he felt for her. He could’ve gotten it out of his system and his brain back on the job.

  He gazed around, looking at the crush as a human might perceive it. Monsters everywhere. He shook his head, looking down at the polished tips of his black shoes. There wasn’t much here to soften any human’s opinion of the fae, especially one raised by a fae-hater like Jacob Arthur Bennett. For that they needed to head across to the other side of Piefferburg Square.

  Yet here he was, standing in the crush of excited Unseelie who never had a chance to get dressed up. To top it off, he was wearing a freaking tux. The only good thing about tonight was the booze.

  He ordered a vodka from the bar and turned to see Niall standing near him. He wore a standard black tux, same as him, his long onyx hair blending seamlessly with the material at the shoulders. Niall looked as bored as Kieran felt.