Shadow Hunt

by L. L. Raand

  Veronica smiled at the Were and was rewarded with a flicker of her wide, seductive mouth and a glint of canines. Oh yes, she could control her. She stepped close to Luce, pressed her breasts to her chest. “I’m so glad you’re here. I need—”

  “This is Dru,” Luce said as she kissed Veronica. “Your new bodyguard.”

  The taste of spice and some exotic flavor skimmed across Veronica’s tongue and soothed the burning in her throat. Her nipples hardened and the ache in her loins pulsed like another heart. “Why do I need anyone besides you?”

  Luce played her incisors over the bounding pulse in Veronica’s throat. “Because I can’t always be with you at the laboratory, and we have important work to do there.”

  “Yes, yes. I know.” Veronica pushed her fingers through Luce’s hair and devoured her mouth, wildly searching for her tongue and the taste she hungered for, the taste that flooded her blood and her brain and released the terrible pain. The lab and work and food—everything melted away. “Whatever you think is necessary. But first, please, I need you.”

  Luce stroked her back and the curve of her ass and cupped one breast, her thumb teasing the already taut nipple. “Not until morning. You need to eat and drink and regain your strength. You need to sleep.”

  “I can’t, not yet.” Veronica writhed, already so close to the perfect pleasure if only Luce would help her. Just a little. “Just a little taste. Please.”

  “Only for a moment.” Luce turned Veronica toward the bed and backed her up until they fell upon it.

  “Yes,” Veronica gasped. She closed her eyes, tilted her head to expose her throat, and opened her legs for Luce to settle between her thighs. “Yes, all right. Hurry.”

  A hot, firm, naked body pressed between her legs. Hot and hard, not cool and slim. Veronica’s eyes flew open and she nearly drowned in the green depths of the Were’s eyes. Canines gleamed inches from her face.

  Veronica jerked away and the Were smiled.

  “Luce has fed from me,” Dru said, slowly rocking the prominence of her sex between Veronica’s thighs. “She may not be hungry any longer.”

  Veronica whimpered, the pressure on her clitoris bringing her to the brink of orgasm. Luce lay beside her, stroking her breasts. “What do you want me to do?”

  Luce smiled. “Only what you’ve always done. Help us find a way to control our enemies.” She let her incisors pierce Veronica’s throat for an instant and pulled away. “But not all Weres are our enemies. Dru will show you.”

  Veronica wrapped her legs around Dru’s hips. “Yes, yes. Please. Now.”

  Luce struck as Dru thrust, twin shafts of pleasure piercing her to the core. Feeding hormones surged into Veronica’s blood and Dru’s essence coated her sex. Veronica exploded, lost in the wild green of Dru’s eyes.

  *

  Time was hard to measure when the very air seemed to be a living presence, but Drake judged several hours had passed since Torren had led them out of the glade and into a valley ringed with terraces of fruit trees and flowering bushes and running waterfalls. Sunlight drenched the landscape, although when she searched the turquoise sky she could not find the sun. Animals skittered in and out along the winding paths, seemingly unafraid and undisturbed by their presence. Some she recognized—hare, squirrel, and even a fawn or two. She caught glimpses of others she could not name—some small and furred with upturned ears and long, thin snouts, others resembling willowy deer but for the curving swirls of ivory-like horns in wreaths about their heads. Everywhere she looked, rainbows danced as if the air was filled with microscopic prisms.

  At the far end of the valley beside a slow-moving stream that murmured in her ear like a long-ago lover’s call, an archway appeared at the foot of a huge vine-covered earthen mound. She’d heard of Faerie Mounds, but thought them only myth.

  As they drew nearer, the light around the mound shimmered, and when they stepped through the archway, rather than being inside the earth, they were in the center of a great hall easily a hundred feet long. Marble columns, intricately carved with twining stems and leaves and fruits, lined each side of the hall and soared high into the recesses above. Tall, narrow windows with crystal panes stretched from floor to ceiling all along the hall, and at the far end, a throne carved from some ancient wood and adorned with thorns sat on a dais. More glinting crystals hung down from the ceiling and swayed in long, rhythmic arcs, emitting a haunting melody as their delicate bodies touched.

  The music drenched Drake’s senses and her wolf paused, listening, head cocked and ears flickering with curiosity. Drake shook herself mentally and called her wolf to alert. They were being seduced into unwariness—a raw recruit’s mistake and not one the Prima of a wolf Were Pack should ever make.

  “This place is dangerous,” Drake said softly to Misha.

  Misha took an unsteady breath. “Torren will protect us.”

  “If she can.” Drake did not add if she wishes, but she could not be sure of anyone or anything in this place. “But be alert.”

  “Yes, Prima,” Misha said.

  Torren murmured, “Your Prima is wise, my strong young wolf. Trust only what you can touch, and even then, only what touches you where none other can.”

  Misha’s chin came up. “Then I trust you.”

  “Trust me now, then.”

  A row of helmeted guards in scarlet tunics, tight leather pants, and shining black boots stood at attention along the hall leading to the throne. Their gold faceplates extended from brow to midface, hiding their features except for their sensuous mouths and regal chins. They carried ceremonial spears carved from shining wood and tipped in triangular silver points two feet long. Their silk tunics were decorated in gold leaf down the loose flowing sleeves, and carvings of vines adorned with spines curled over their metal breastplates.

  As Torren led Drake and Misha along the hall, the first pair lowered their spearheads, crossed spears forming an archway.

  “Come,” Torren said.

  Misha and Drake kept pace by her side, and each guard in succession crossed spears above their heads so they walked beneath an arch of silver to meet the Queen of Thorns. When they’d passed beneath the last pair of spears, Torren stopped. Her voice rang out like the peal of a thousand bells.

  “May I present Drake McKennan, Prima of the Timberwolf Pack, and Misha”—Torren glanced at her and smiled—“soldier and escort to the Prima.”

  Drake caught only a glimmer of sparkling light where the throne had been empty and, in the next second, was not. She suspected Cecilia had been there all along, hidden by glamour. Drake had seen photos of Cecilia Thornton in newspaper accounts of Coalition events, but those images of a voluptuous blonde in figure-hugging dresses barely suitable for public were not of this being. The Queen of Thorns was beautiful in the way a perfectly pitched note or ray of sunshine was beautiful—impossible to describe or capture. Age was a concept that didn’t apply to her—or any of the Fae—their translucent skin flawless, their fathomless eyes the purity of rare gems. Cecilia’s emerald eyes were set in a delicate alabaster face above a thin nose and sinful mouth. Her wide ruby lips pursed into a smile that floated on the air like a kiss, and for an instant, Drake felt a stirring deep in her loins, and the enchanting music she’d heard upon awakening intensified. She lifted her chin.

  “I’m honored to meet you, Cecilia, Queen of Thorns. I believe we have common cause and seek your friendship in the name of the Timberwolves.”

  Cecilia smiled. “So you are Sylvan’s mate.”

  “I think you know that,” Drake said, “and you know too, I am not susceptible to persuasion, no matter how beautiful or desirable the persuader.”

  Cecilia laughed. “Yes, you are Sylvan’s mate.” She turned her gaze to Misha. “But this one. She is young and not yet so claimed.”

  Misha said, “I am—”

  “She is a guest, my Queen.” Torren placed a long, elegant hand on the small of Misha’s back. “They are both here as my guests, my Queen.”
<
br />   “Oh, my dearest Torren, you have been Earthside too long.” Cecilia laughed again, a sound like a fragile chime in the morning breeze. Delicate and delightful and mesmerizing. She flicked a hand. “But that’s a discussion for another day.” She rose, her satin gown flowing from her breasts to the floor in a cascade of purest white. “Come. We shall share wine and food.”

  “Your hospitality is appreciated,” Drake said, taking care not to express overt thanks and unwittingly indebt herself in some way. “But I’m afraid our time is very short and we are expected to return soon. If we could speak—”

  “You’ll find, Prima of the Timberwolf Pack,” Cecilia said, “that time here in Faerie is different than what you’re used to. We’ll talk. Soon.”

  “Then I must contact the Alpha—”

  Cecilia was gone. Drake turned to Torren.

  “Sylvan will search for us.”

  “I have no doubt,” Torren said, “but she will not find you until the Queen wills it so.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Alpha,” Niki said, “this could be a trap. We should return with a squad. Then we can spread out to search—”

  Sylvan rounded on her, her snarl a lash that cracked the air and nearly brought Niki to her knees. “She’s here. I can feel her.”

  The sun rose behind Sylvan’s back, casting the shadow of her warrior form across the barren patch of ground where she had paced all night long. Her massive torso and heavy claw-tipped limbs created shifting forms on the ground that seemed to have a lethal life of their own. Dasha and Daniel crouched in pelt at the edge of the desolate clearing, guarding against anyone’s approach. Niki grew more uneasy with each passing hour. They were too far from any reinforcements and vulnerable to attack.

  “The Faerie Gate must be near here,” Niki said again, careful not to hint at challenge. Sylvan radiated battle frenzy and the slightest confrontation would trigger an attack. Still, Niki knew her duty. “We don’t even know the location of the Gate, and if the Fae come through in force we will have no warning. We cannot fight shadows. If we have a squad at our back we can be ready—”

  “She is on the other side, and I will find a way in.” Sylvan gestured to the overgrown path they’d followed into the small clearing. “Take the centuri back to the Rover. Call Callan—”

  “No. Even if you find the Gate, you cannot go alo—”

  Sylvan was upon her before she saw her move. Sylvan’s face was inches from hers, her eyes the color of a molten sun. The grip on her throat cut off her breath but she did not struggle.

  “She is my mate and your Prima. I will find her.”

  Niki cast her gaze down. The pressure on her throat loosened. “Yes, Alpha.”

  Sylvan dropped Niki and stalked back to the point where she had lost Drake’s scent. She had followed her easily at first, her scent strong and clear. And then it was as if she had simply vanished. Frustration boiled through her belly, driving her wolf to madness. Her mate was here, somewhere, but she could not sense her. The connection that was part of every breath she took was obliterated between one step and the next. The shape of her world twisted before her eyes, and a void that threatened to swallow her opened before her. The dark was so absolute her wolf stumbled, uncertain and lost. She roared and howled and sent all her power in search of her mate and could not find her. Drake was somewhere other than this world, and she would not rest until she found her. Fear lashed through her and her wolf fought back, panic consumed by fury. She stalked back to her imperator. “We must find someone to take us through the Gate.”

  “Only Fae can—”

  “I know that,” Sylvan snapped, “and I know where to find one. Stay here and keep this area safe in case Drake returns.”

  Niki sidled into her path. “I should go with you.”

  “You should obey my orders, or have you forgotten who rules this Pack?”

  Niki kept her eyes below Sylvan’s but did not give way. “I have not forgotten, Alpha. Nor have I forgotten my duty. You cannot go alone.”

  “I need you here to protect the Prima when she returns.”

  “Once she is through the Gate, she will be safe with the centuri,” Niki said. “We can send reinforcements to assist Dasha and Daniel in protecting the Prima, but if you are lost to us, the Pack will not survive.”

  Sylvan rumbled, unable to argue with her trusted second. “Fine. Come. Arrange for a patrol to secure this area while we pay a visit to the head of Cecilia’s embassy.”

  When they reached the Rover, Niki ordered Jace and Jonathan to join Dasha and Daniel and got behind the wheel of the Rover. As they drove into the city, she called the Compound and instructed Callan to organize a patrol to join the others in the clearing. Aggression poured from Sylvan and filled the vehicle with the taste of copper and smoke.

  “The Fae Queen will not be happy if you kill her ambassador,” Niki said mildly.

  “I’m not concerned with Cecilia’s opinion.”

  “If you have another option, it might be wise to negotiate.”

  “My mate is missing, Niki.”

  “I know. And we will find her. I swear to you.”

  Sylvan regarded her at the wheel. She was as she had always been—hard-bodied, compact, honed to a killing edge—but different than she had once been when fighting was all she lived for. “What would you do if it was Sophia?”

  Niki’s canines glinted as her lips pulled back in a snarl. “I would tear the world apart.” Niki glanced over. “And you would probably lock me in a cage until I found my reason and hunted like a wolf should—with heart and head. And Pack.”

  “You have grown wise since you’ve mated,” Sylvan said.

  “No,” Niki said, pulling into the park that bordered State Street with its brownstone mansions and civilized veneer. Many of the high-ranking Praeterns kept residences there, disappearing among the privileged humans as they carried out business and entertained political allies. “I have earned my place as your second in more than just battle.”

  “You have always belonged there.” Sylvan glanced at the four-story town house, wondering how many inside she would have to kill. She bounded from the Rover and loped across the grassy expanse to the narrow street lined with luxury cars and an occasional limo.

  Niki joined her at the foot of the stone staircase leading to the discreet white door. “Where are the guards?”

  “There are none when Cecilia is not in residence.” Sylvan climbed to the landing. “Although the ambassador will likely have security.”

  “Who are not going to allow—”

  Sylvan rang the bell.

  The maid who answered the door stared at Sylvan and Niki, both in black T-shirts and cargo BDUs and boots. “I’m sorry, you must have the wrong—”

  “Is Ambassador Lutin at home?” Sylvan said.

  The maid made a startled sound and her eyes widened. “Yes, but he’s not up—”

  A broad-shouldered male with close-cropped black hair and startling bright green eyes stepped up beside the maid. “The ambassador does not receive visitors here.”

  Sylvan leapt through the door and grasped the guard by the throat while Niki moved the maid aside and scanned the hall. Sylvan lifted the male off the floor as the maid squeaked. “He’ll see me. Where?”

  The guard grunted and Sylvan felt the flesh beneath her fingers undulate and twist. Not human, Fae. She squeezed harder, slammed him against the wall, and let his limp body slide down to the floor.

  “Never mind.” Sylvan stalked the length of the first-floor foyer past gleaming antique armoires and elegantly upholstered divans to a staircase that rose in a gentle curve to the second floor. Following the scent of vanilla and oranges, she bounded up three steps at a time with Niki close behind. A second male appeared at the top of the ornate staircase, and she buried her claws in his throat. He went down to his knees, clutching his neck. Not fatal for a Fae, but he wouldn’t be a problem for a few minutes. The hallway was carpeted with a plush oriental runner, and he
r steps made no sound as she moved quickly past rooms that smelled empty. Tall hand-painted vases holding fresh flowers were arranged on a marble-topped sideboard, but their sweet fragrance could not overpower the seductive scent of magic.

  At the end of the hall, she pushed open a walnut-paneled door and stepped into a bedroom. Morning light filtered through gauzy curtains and fell upon a broad raised bed with carved head- and footboards of the same rich dark wood as the door. A male rose from a mountain of creamy satin pillows as she entered.

  “Alpha Mir,” he said graciously, as if an early-morning visitor in his bedroom was a common occurrence. The human female beside him gasped and pulled the heavy ivory coverlet up over her naked breasts. The ambassador slid naked from beneath the sheets, his lithe, ageless body glowing in the dim light. He pulled a deep purple robe from a divan beside the bed, slipped it on, and casually tied it at the waist. “How may I be of service?”

  “I need you to come with me.”

  His gaze flickered over Niki to the empty hallway beyond the open door, and back to Sylvan. “I am of course available for your needs, but if you could wait until—”

  Sylvan gripped the silk gown in her fist and drew him up until his topaz eyes were on a level with hers. “My mate is in Faerie. I want you to take me through the Gate.”

  His eyes widened. “I would be happy to assist you in any way possible, but I cannot take you—”

  She flipped the gown open and slid her claws slowly into his lower abdomen. Something old and dark swam in his eyes. “I could tear your guts out with a flick of my wrist. I doubt even Fae magic would heal you in time for you to get to Faerie.”

  “It is forbidden for me to bring an Earthlander to Faerie.”

  “I am not an Earthlander,” Sylvan said softly. “I am the Were Alpha. And Cecilia does not want to make an enemy of me.” She pushed her claws deeper and he smiled. Sylvan caught a glimpse of something beneath the perfect surface of his face that might have crawled from the sea a long time ago. “I will kill you and move on to every member of Cecilia’s staff until someone does what I ask. Would you die for nothing?”