by Anya Bast
They spent a good part of the evening at the celebration. Most of the goblins were very gracious and immediately switched to English when they realized she couldn’t speak Alahambri, though she did manage to learn a few basic words of the language throughout the course of the evening.
While Kieran danced with Leson’s wife, she sank to the grass with a cup of krastan, a drink that tasted a little like tangerine, and sipped at it while she watched them. Leson sat down beside her.
“Kieran is very good with our wives and children. He never offers offense.”
She watched him keeping a careful distance from the pregnant female, eyes always carefully averted. “He’s a very considerate man. I’m afraid all this is very new to me. I’ve probably offered lots of offense.”
“You’re human, from outside the walls of Piefferburg. You don’t know our ways.”
She refrained from remarking that such latitude had not been given to the previously digested Faemous crew.
“More importantly,” Leson continued, “you are trying to respect our ways and you’re even attempting to learn our language. That is very considerate of you, Charlotte.”
“Oh, well . . . it just seems right.”
“You’d be surprised to know how many people don’t think so.” He looked up into the sky at the moon, which hung large and luminous over their heads. “When Orna gave birth to the world, she created the goblins as a test to the rest of the races. She made us ugly to the eyes of others and she made our diet and basic nature nightmarish to their sensibilities. We exist in order to show the world how to find commonalties when none seem to exist. Once those commonalities are found, it is easier to make the logical, and correct, jump to the notion that all the races are, in fact, one race.”
Charlotte stared up at the moon. “I think that’s lovely, Leson.”
“Orna is a good goddess and we are all her people.”
Kieran blocked her view of the moon and held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
“Oh. I don’t know—”
Leson slipped the cup of krastan from her fingers. “There is no question you should dance on this of all nights! Orna is looking down on you two tonight and will bless your new union.”
Charlotte’s gaze locked with Kieran’s. Dark amusement shone in his eyes. She clasped his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet, while saying, “Well, we certainly can’t pass that up, can we?”
Leson’s wife carefully sat down next to her husband on the grass as Kieran led Charlotte out to dance near the fire. The goblins had been feeding it all night and it was powerful and hot. It warmed her side as Kieran took her by the hands and began to dance to the discordant and chaotic melody of the celebration music.
Her feet moved slowly, her arms swinging only because she was holding Kieran’s hands.
“Let go, Charlotte,” he yelled over the mingled sounds of the fire and the music. The fire lit half his beautiful face and left the other half in shadow. “Dance like you’ll die tomorrow. Just let the energy flow through you.”
She bit her lower lip and then shrugged. Why not? At this point she had nothing to lose. She closed her eyes and felt the rhythm of the music through the soles of her feet. She tapped into the roar and the heat of the fire. Her feet moved, her body swayed. Faster and bigger.
She let go of Kieran’s hands and danced. Opening her eyes, she threw her arms wide and looked up at the moon as she moved, letting her body flow with the music and the people around her.
Some thread of otherness seemed to pull through her. Wild. Ancient. Awakening. Her fae blood? She wasn’t sure what affected her now. Hell, maybe it was the krastan. All she knew was that it felt good, intoxicating.
Right.
Whirling, leaping, moving with abandon, Charlotte smiled up into Kieran’s face.
MESMERIZED, Kieran watched Charlotte dancing, her black hair swirling around her face, grass stains on her clothing, a gleam in her eye and a wide smile on her face.
She looked . . . fae.
Reaching out, he grasped her hands and pulled her against his body. She molded herself to him, lifting her face to his. He smoothed her wild, thick hair away from her cheeks, admiring the way the glow of the fire touched her skin. Looking at her made a spot of peace in the center of his chest—a sensation he didn’t often feel.
It was a warning flag, but he ignored it. Just for tonight he wanted that peace, wanted her. Holding her close, he swayed as if to much slower music, his hips moving in a primal rhythm that both of them recognized.
Her smile flickered and then faded, but the heat grew in her eyes, turning them from hazel green to a rich, deep brown.
Winding one hand to the small of her back and the other to her nape, he angled her head toward his as he lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips touched and her breath shuddered out of her, warming his mouth. She softly slipped her tongue in to brush against his tongue. The action made every nerve in his body flare to life, made his brain turn to mush.
In that moment he wanted her. Nothing else mattered.
Breaking the kiss, she gave him a small smile and a beckoning tilt of her head. She backed away from him and melted into the surrounding woods.
It only took him a moment to follow. Pushing branches to the side, the sound of the goblin celebration fading behind them, he followed her deeper into the trees.
In a small clearing, he caught her and pulled her toward him, his mouth immediately coming down on hers. Wordlessly, lips meshing, they pulled at each other’s clothing until wide swathes of bare flesh touched.
Walking her backward, he pressed her against a nearby tree. Finding the sweet, smooth back of her knee, he hiked her thigh over his hip and guided the head of his cock inside the silky clasp of her sex and thrust within.
Her arms tightened around him and her breath came out in an agonized rasp of pleasure as he pushed deeper inside her. Her slick, soft inner muscles clenched around his length, dragging a guttural groan from his throat.
He lifted her and she pressed back against the tree, winding her legs around his waist, his cock buried root-deep inside her. Their gazes met and held for a moment before he began to thrust. Clinging to each other, bodies straining and mouths sealed, they found a rhythm under the moonlight. Moving as one, they gave and took from each other, sharing pleasure.
He shouldn’t be doing this, but nothing in the world could make him stop. Right then he knew he was losing it, that edge he’d cultivated for so many centuries. This odd, beautiful woman was ripping it to shreds.
He was in trouble.
NINETEEN
CHARLOTTE closed her eyes and let Risa guide her down. It got easier every time they did it. If she didn’t fight the intrusive magick, she just spiraled down into the spinning memories of strangers.
But, first, the person she knew. Her mother. They hadn’t yet jumped past her line.
Every time she saw them, her mother’s memories made emotion rise from a place so deep that nothing had ever been able to touch it before. The memories rolled over her and through her, displaying her mother’s life, both the good and the bad, and giving Charlotte an incredible gift.
She’d been a warmhearted, wild, wonderful person. Too much for her father to handle. They’d been married young, when her father had been a different person. More carefree. Charlotte’s father had been besotted with her, madly in love . . . at least until he’d learned about her ancestry. Her mother had known how he’d felt about the fae, but she’d presumed he loved her enough to accept her anyway.
How wrong she’d been.
When the memory timeline jumped to her grandmother, tears came to Charlotte’s eyes. She didn’t want to leave the closest interaction she could remember ever having with her mother. Before now her mother had seemed like a cold, selfish person because she’d been seeing her through her father’s words and her own pain.
Now, through Risa’s magick, her mother felt like a friend she’d lost.
Once they made the jump,
Charlotte saw how Risa had slowed down the memories of her mother for her benefit. Her grandmother’s line went fast. In a blink, it was gone and replaced with her great-grandmother’s timeline, then the lives of her other maternal ancestors. The snatches she saw were interesting from an historical viewpoint, but she had little emotional connection.
Back and back Risa went, pushing and pushing. It was like watching a movie on fast rewind. Risa stopped only occasionally to sift more carefully here and there for things that Charlotte couldn’t comprehend.
Detached and fatigued, Charlotte settled back and let it all happen. She was merely the vessel containing what they needed—a filing cabinet or a computer. Sometimes she dozed, but it didn’t seem to affect Risa’s work at all.
And then they were there. Ireland. The fae. A very, very long time ago.
Risa didn’t slow as Charlotte had expected. Instead she buzzed and jumped her way through countless lines of her maternal memory before slowing to a speed she could follow. Was this the period of history when Risa believed her ancestral line had begun to have interaction with the fae?
Charlotte had no idea what this period of history was. Surely it was before the Roman conquest of Britain. She suspected from the circular houses made of organic materials and the rudimentary clothing that she was looking at her Celtic ancestors.
An image flashed of a dark-haired woman who looked eerily like herself. Her great-great-great- well, super great-grandmother, perhaps. Charlotte had long ago lost count of the number of her maternal line that Risa had gone through. This one’s name was Aithne. Risa focused in on her, perhaps because of the resemblance to Charlotte.
Aithne was a human woman, but she’d discovered the fae when she’d been a child, playing near the edge of a forest. As soon as Risa came across that particular memory, everything slowed as Risa sifted carefully. Charlotte was wide-awake now, curious.
A willowy blond Twyleth Teg male took a liking to Aithne, befriended her, taught her about the fae as Aithne grew up, and then eventually deflowered her under an oak tree deep in the forest. From that union, Aithne conceived a child, a thing unheard of in the fae world. Fae children—especially half-breed fae children—were very rare.
Life back at this point in history was not as cruel to unmarried young women with children and Aithne was still accepted in her village. However, because the child was half fae, the Twyleth Teg male took Aithne in, made her one of them. Married her for all intents and purposes. Eventually the child was born, a girl that Aithne named Caoimhe.
Charlotte’s fae lineage began here.
Caoimhe grew up among the fae and fell in love with a pureblooded Seelie Tuatha Dé man. She, too, bore a female child and named her Keelin. It became clear to the fae, and in Charlotte’s memories, that these women had the rare ability to bear fae offspring, so they were valued.
And so it went. Instead of skipping backward in Charlotte’s memories, now she and Risa inched forward. Her female ancestors essentially were magickless fae, living among them, marrying them, and bearing their children—all female—until one day everything changed.
Ah, here! They were closing in on the memory they needed; Charlotte could feel it.
Risa withdrew.
Charlotte gasped and opened her eyes. “But we were just getting to the good part!”
Risa looked ready to fall over. “I can’t.” She touched her head and gave her a weary smile. “I can’t go even one moment more tonight.”
Charlotte glanced out the window. It was full dark. She didn’t know what time it was, but they’d started early in the morning and had taken no breaks. She met Risa’s eyes. “How will you find that memory again?”
“Don’t worry, I marked it.”
She gaped for a moment. “You put a bookmark in my brain?”
Risa offered another exhausted smile. “Something like that. We’ll get the rest of what we need tomorrow.”
Charlotte sat up and groaned. Her stomach growled loudly. Rubbing the back of her neck, she watched Risa stand, stretch, retrieve her jacket, and walk to the door. “Will you be okay getting back to your hotel? We could call Aeric to come and get you.”
“No.” Risa paused. “I’ll be fine.”
“Risa?”
She stopped in the doorway. “Yes?”
“How did you know it was me who would carry the memory of where the piece was located?”
Risa sagged against the doorframe and regarded her with tired eyes. “I’ve been looking for memories of the piece among the fae for a long time now. A fae I happened upon had memories of one of your ancestors. She’s distantly related to you, a Twyleth Teg. I looked up some of the records from that time period and came across mentions of your ancestral line. Eventually the name MacBrehon came up. I knew how intertwined that human name was with the fae, so we used the Unseelie ancestry records to track the line to you. It wasn’t easy.”
“So I have relatives here among the fae.”
“Very distant ones, yes.” She smiled. “You truly are fae, Charlotte.”
She watched Risa leave the building and go to her car. The fire was dead in the hearth and a chill had set into the small house. Kieran wasn’t inside, but she was sure he was close by. He hadn’t left her unguarded, either by himself or another, since she’d been attacked that first night.
Walking around the living room, she turned on a few lamps. Finally the door opened and Kieran came in. “Enjoying the evening?” she asked.
“The stars are really bright tonight.” He stopped. “How did it go?”
“We’re really close. We should have the location by tomorrow.”
Kieran let out a pent-up breath and closed his eyes, tipping his head back. A tension she hadn’t known was in him seemed to leave his body. “Thank the Lady.”
She studied him, chewing her lower lip. “You really care about your people, don’t you?”
“The fae need to be free, Charlotte. Don’t you see that?”
“I do . . . now.”
“You mean, now that you know you’re one of us, if just a little.”
She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s not just that. The fae are at the mercy of the Phaendir in here. If Gideon Amberdoyal gets his way and the government lets him, you’re like lambs at slaughter between these walls.”
Kieran’s eyes glittered in the half-light. “We’re not that helpless.”
“Maybe not. Probably not.” She looked out at the window at the sky. He was right about the stars.
“You never cared before.”
She turned toward him. “I was afraid of you before.”
“And now you’re not?”
“I think I understand you better now.” She paused. “Anyway, no race of people deserves what’s been done to you. I’ve seen terrible things in here, but I’ve also seen beauty.” She went back to gazing out the window. “How is that any different from humanity?”
“It’s not.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not.” The ideas her father had tried to instill in her had clearly not been buried very deep. They easily lifted away to reveal the truth the moment she lost her respect for him . . . the moment she’d ceased wanting his approval.
She glanced at the kitchen. She was really hungry, but eating something meant spending more time with Kieran and it was better if she didn’t. She was coming to like him way too much. Better to keep her distance. By tomorrow maybe all this would be over and she’d be on her way home. “I’m going to bed.”
“Charlotte, finding that memory came just in time. The bond magick between us has run its course. We’re free to separate now.”
“Oh.” She swallowed, glancing away from him. Being able to leave whenever she wanted should make her happy, but, strangely, all she felt was sorrow. “That’s great.”
Kieran took her by the arm as she brushed past. He pulled her against him.
Her heart skipped a beat as his gaze caught and held hers. So much for keeping her dista
nce. He reached up and very gently pushed her loose hair behind her ear, then he lowered his head and kissed her.
Turning toward him, she closed her eyes and gave herself to it completely. After all, there wouldn’t be many more kisses like this to enjoy. Soon she’d be back in her old life . . . just the thought of Yancy and Tate felt so foreign to her, another world. A boring world.
His lips moved slowly over hers, back and forth, making her legs feel weak. Then he slanted his mouth across her mouth and slid his tongue within to meet hers. Their tongues tangled hot and she imagined what might happen next. The slow removal of clothing, the brush of bare skin against bare skin. His chest pressed against her breasts. Limbs entangled. Hands caught in each other’s hair and mouths fused.
He crushed her to him and deepened the kiss. For a moment Charlotte thought her imaginings would become real. After all, she didn’t have the ability to resist him if he nudged her in that direction. Her defenses where this man was concerned had been knocked down a while ago.
Instead he ended the kiss, pressed his lips to her forehead, and murmured, “Sleep well.”
Relief and disappointment warring inside her, she pulled herself away from his embrace and hurried up the stairs before she could do something really stupid.
For a third time.
THE next morning, with Risa’s help, Charlotte slid easily into the depths of her ancestors’ memories. Today both Kieran and Aeric were in the living room and would stay there until this was finished. Everyone seemed on edge, waiting for the fruit of their labor. Their additional presence receded into the background as Charlotte pushed deeper into her maternal memory.
The timeline picked up almost immediately where they’d left off the previous evening. Aithne and her fae descendants, all female, had lived in peace among the fae for over a century. Until one day everything changed.
The Phaendir attacked.
Up until then the relations between the Phaendir and the fae had been frigid, their races locked in a type of cold war that Charlotte didn’t understand. Now relations were far from cold—they were boiling.
