by Cate Corvin
I slid onto him. I felt so empty when he wasn’t in me. “Harder, Robin.”
He growled and sat up, pulling out and turning me over. I wrapped my legs around his hips when he settled on me again, slamming his cock home.
“I want to watch your face.” His fingers ran over my cheek to my jaw, and down over my neck and collar bone. The bursts of heat running through my veins blazed hotter when his thumb grazed my nipple.
I touched his face, finally indulging myself. I ran my fingers over the carved ridges of his cheekbones, his full lips that were more often in a frown than smile, over the dense, dark hair shading his jaw.
He kissed me hard, grinding his hips against mine. The thick ridge of his muscular stomach pressed against my clit with every thrust, until my legs started to tremble again.
When he felt me tighten, my back arching beneath him, he pounded in harder and faster.
My cries were loud as hell, probably keeping the neighbors up. I had no fucks to give as I came on Robin’s cock, grinding myself against him and digging my nails into his broad shoulders.
When I finally stopped trembling, he sat up, pushing my legs apart. He looked so predatory, his eyes running over my naked body with satisfaction while he fucked me.
He gasped and slammed into me, his cock jerking. I felt new wetness when he came, falling over to bury his face between my neck and shoulder and kissing everywhere his mouth touched.
Robin’s heart pounded against mine, and we finally shifted over until we were cuddling, my body spooned around his. He was so tall his feet hung over the edge of the bed, but he didn’t seem to care.
He just pulled the pink comforter over us and held me close, running his free hand over my side, from shoulder to hip.
I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat slow, feeling as warm and happy inside as if I held the sun inside me.
Reason told me to get up and shower, but I was afraid if I got out of bed now, when I came back, he’d be gone. After lusting after this moment for so long, I wasn’t willing to give up a single shred of it.
“Robin?”
He paused in stroking my side to toy with a dark brown curl of hair. “Briallen.”
I loved it when he said my first name. He only did it when the walls were down; every single time, it made me feel like he was actually seeing me.
I draped my arm over his broad chest and hugged him tight. “You can walk me home whenever you want.”
My eyelids were already heavy, my system glutted with wine and sex.
I thought I heard Robin chuckle, then I descended into happy dreams, feeling comfortable, safe, and finally held.
An insistent ringing drilled right through the dream I’d been having.
An amazing dream, where there were no lines between boss and agent, and Robin’s large hands ran all over me, his beard scratching my skin…
I cracked an eyelid. My pillow was much warmer than usual, and soft, and… breathing.
I raised my head, a thrill rushing through me all the way down to my toes.
It was no dream at all. He was really here, stark naked in my bed, with my pink comforter pulled over both of us.
Robin reached out and blindly groped for the ringing phone on my nightstand, but his other arm was curled around me. He pulled me back down as he found the phone and answered it, his voice rough with sleep.
“H’lo?”
Within seconds, all six and a half feet of warm muscle I was curled against went rigid. Robin sat bolt upright, bringing me with him.
“Where?” he asked, no longer sounding sleepy in the slightest. “Right. We’re on our way.”
I jumped out of bed and riffled through my closet for a pair of dark jeans and a black tank top. “What happened, boss?”
He hung up the phone and frowned. I wished I could turn back time five minutes before the phone rang, just so I could put my hands all over his muscular body again. “There’s been another murder.”
“Ghosthand?” I asked breathlessly, tugging my shirt over my head.
He nodded and swung his legs out of the bed, looking both hilariously and awkwardly gigantic in it. His sapphire eyes looked me over as I ran my fingers through my messy hair and pinned it up in a bun.
I saw the moment it descended again, the wall between boss and employee. It was a sudden shock that went over his face, then a grim sort of acceptance, and finally the stone façade he usually wore.
His shuttered gaze said it all: let’s not talk about this now.
I turned my back to give him privacy, swallowing a hint of bitterness and holding on to the glowing warmth of the little sun inside me for a little longer.
17
The twins were sitting at our chipped table when we emerged from my room, each nursing a cup of coffee along with their hangovers.
They were never up this early. Then I realized why they’d made the exception: the trail of clothes leading from the front door to my bedroom.
Identical evil grins spread across their faces.
“Don’t you say a word,” I hissed as Clove opened his mouth.
Tarragon pursed his lips, holding his mug to his mouth, but his eyes were still sparkling with amusement. “A word about what, Bri? We know the rules: when the apartment’s rockin’, don’t come knockin’.”
“The apartment wasn’t rocking,” I muttered, resisting the urge to rub my temples. Tarragon just raised an eyebrow.
Robin picked up his jacket and dusted it off. Clove watched him with avid fascination, his eyes tracing the lines of Robin’s broad shoulders.
“At least you’ve had a proper lay now,” Tarragon said. He got up from the table and walked around it, holding out a hand to Robin.
I really needed to start giving Robin more credit, despite being Gentry. He didn’t shy away from taking Tarragon’s hand, or look around our small, charmingly battered apartment with disgust.
“Bri is like a little sister to us,” Tarragon said pleasantly, but there was a hint of the selkie in his lengthened canines.
Robin shook his hand but didn’t release him. “She’s told me about you.”
The two Fae stood gripping hands while Clove and I watched, holding our collective breath.
“Only good things, I hope.” Tarragon’s arm flexed as he squeezed Robin’s hand. “But we haven’t heard about you.”
Oh, my trees. If Tarragon knew who he was flexing on…
Robin flashed him a brilliant smile. “I’m a close acquaintance of hers. And we really need to get going.”
Clove made a face at me behind Tarragon’s back.
I shrugged and shook my head. There was no way in hell I was owning up to Robin being my boss.
Tarragon finally released his grip on Robin’s hand. He seemed satisfied by something, though I didn’t know what.
Robin pulled his jacket on and opened the door for me.
Before I walked out, Tarragon gripped my arm gently and whispered in my ear. “Well, you really can’t go back to humans after that fine Gentry beefcake, now can you?”
I heard the twins howling with laughter as I closed the apartment door behind me.
Any hope I had that Robin hadn’t heard Tarragon’s parting words dissolved as soon as we hit the street.
“Humans, hmm?” he asked.
Behind him, Carabosse waved to me as she watered her plants. I smiled at her before turning back to Robin.
Then I shrugged one shoulder. I hadn’t thought of Ioin in over a week. “It was a failed experiment. The twins think it’s better if we stick to our own kind.”
Even if that meant sticking to other Lessers from now on. Robin seemed to be deliberately putting space between us now, a far cry from last night.
No Robin, no Gwyn… for some reason Jack’s pale, sensual face flashed in my mind, and I shoved it away in disgust.
I half-expected Robin to shut me out again as we strode up the street, especially after last night, but he was scrolling through something on his pho
ne.
“It looks like the Ghosthand struck again last night, over at the edge of Thornwood and Mothwing,” he said, checking the silver watch on his left arm. “A rusalki found the body and called in the Garda.”
Something rankled at me as we walked. I didn’t pay attention to where we were even going, caught up in my irritation. “Boss, I know our current mission is important, but why aren’t we spending more time on the Ghosthand? Especially now?”
His blue eyes flashed at me. “I know it seems unfair and wrong, Miss Appletree,” he said, pitching his voice low. “But we have other Garda looking into it. I can’t be everywhere at once, and the Queen’s orders are my first priority.”
I swallowed down the rest of my irritation. Catching Prince Brightkin and finding the missing human girls was just as important as finding the Ghosthand. Those girls would never see the light of day again if the prince was allowed to continue funneling them into the Fae underworld.
But still, this one time, I disagreed with Queen Titania’s choice to take someone as valuable as Robin away from the Ghosthand case.
We passed a street cart selling trash newspapers and I caught sight of a headline: Prince Brightkin Secretly Engaged to Princess Enya? Autumn Court Informant Speaks Out!
I huffed out a sigh. Of course we needed to catch Brightkin.
I was so lost in thought I didn’t notice we were walking my usual morning route towards Web and Peaseblossom.
Then I blinked, catching sight of a pair of long legs in shredded denim, and caramel hair hanging down his back. Gwyn was waiting for me, of course.
Bright, white-hot guilt stabbed through my chest. I’d kissed Gwyn only the morning before, and now I was fresh out of bed with Robin.
I took a deep breath. There’s no future between you, Briallen.
It was the truth. Nothing like this could last, not with either of them.
Gwyn smiled at me, but it was tight, not full of his usual lazy amusement. He looked over Robin with an unreadable expression as I pushed past my boss. “Hi, Gwyn.”
I was about to make an introduction when Robin cocked his head. “Interesting company you keep, Miss Appletree. The second of the Wild Hunt… bringing you pastries.”
The guilt in my chest turned to ice. He was that high-ranking?
Gwyn stood up slowly, leaving the box of tarts on the low stone wall. He and Robin were of a height, and giving each other that purely male size-up that only came with territorial protectiveness.
“Sure is, Miss Bananatree,” Gwyn agreed. “You didn’t tell me you were close with Goodfellow.”
He said Robin’s name like it was a black curse, both of their eyes narrowed at each other.
I had a feeling someone’s throat was going to be ripped out here shortly. I drew myself up to my full height and planted my hands on my hips. “Excuse both of you.”
That got their attention. They tore their eyes away from their staring contest and looked at me.
I cleared my throat, already blushing a little. Damn it, Gwyn.
“You clearly already know each other, so I’ll keep this short and sweet. Gwyn, Robin is my boss. Boss, Gwyn is a good friend of mine. I expect both of you to behave as though you are respectful of my feelings in the matter, which is that I have no part of your territorial wars, or your history, and like both of you equally.”
Their narrow-eyed looks had slowly morphed into expressions of incredulity and, in Gwyn’s case, amusement.
The Wild Hunter was the first to take my words to heart. “Any friend of Miss Bananatree is a friend of mine… when she’s around,” he said, showing sharp teeth in a smile.
Robin’s was no less feral.
I breathed a sigh of relief, though. So they might kill each other later instead of right here and now, but I’d take what I could get. “Shake like friends?”
For the second time in fifteen minutes, Robin shook the hand of one of my friends, but this time he gritted his teeth.
“Remember when you locked me in the Garda cells for three days?” Gwyn asked, his garnet eyes glinting. “I remember that.”
“That’s because you were violating Section 42 of the Marina Code of Conduct, after getting in a bar fight that cost nearly twenty thousand in property damages.” Robin gave him a grim smile.
“Like friends,” I snapped. How had I ever thought I could both work for the Seelie fixer and be friends with a Wild Hunter? They were intrinsically different.
They shook again and released each other like they’d touched something filthy.
“Bossy little thing,” Gwyn murmured, his eyes softening when he looked at me. “If you’ve quit working for the satyr, what brings you out so early, Briallen?”
I opened my mouth and paused. What if Robin didn’t want me spilling every detail—
“The Ghosthand found another victim last night.” Robin’s voice was cool, emotionless. “We’re on our way to look at the body.”
Gwyn nodded slowly, cutting me a sidelong look that Robin didn’t miss. “You okay with this, Bananas?”
It was sweet of him to think about how this might affect me.
I already knew that this scene was going to be just as bad as the one I’d come across in the alley. We needed to go look at it, and I would learn what I could from Robin, but… even that didn’t make the prospect of looking at a corpse appealing. “It’s necessary on the job training.”
The Wild Hunter took a step closer and reached out to touch my arm. “Need some moral support?”
I smiled up at him, sure that Robin would say no, but my boss gave him a thoughtful look.
“Yes.” Robin’s tone was crisp. “If you stay with her, and keep the press off her back, then feel free.”
I hadn’t even thought of the press. No doubt the scene was swarming with them, but this time, instead of biking away, I’d be closed in behind all the reporters with the Garda.
Gwyn picked up his box of pastries. “Well, then. Bodyguard duties for the dryad it is.”
He pulled out a rose raspberry tart and passed it to me, which I nibbled as we continued towards the edge of Mothwing Falls, and didn’t offer one to Robin.
I walked between the two of them, determined to keep them from breaking into any more territorial arguments, a situation I never thought I’d be in with two Gentry.
“How long have you been working for the Garda?” Gwyn asked, an odd note in his voice.
I realized how little we knew of each other despite the kiss. I knew he was a Wild Hunter. And that entailed dragging the souls of the lost to the Otherworld.
And… that was about it, really.
“Only a few weeks,” I said quietly, shredding a rose petal and popping it in my mouth. “I would’ve told you before, but… it’s not the sort of thing I want to advertise.”
“Mm.” His gaze landed on Robin’s back. “Yeah, if I worked with him, I wouldn’t want to advertise it, either.”
I snorted. “He’s not bad at all.”
Not even in the slightest, once he let down his cold walls. And in bed he was hands-down amazing.
Gwyn just gave me a faint smile. “I’ll take your word for it, Bananas.”
We crossed a street, turned a corner towards the Mainway, then I saw it. The massive crush of reporters circled around one of the city’s many small parks, gathered beneath the branches of a glimmering oak tree.
A wall of Garda were keeping them back, but one head of silver hair stood out like a beacon.
Different is not defective, Briallen.
I tried to let Jack Frost’s words slide over me like water off a duck, but they were lodged in my heart like a shard of ice… and surprisingly warm, a sentiment that made me feel like the tiniest bit less alone in the world.
“I must really like you to want to spend time around this many Garda,” Gwyn muttered to himself.
I laughed, the last laugh I’d have that morning, and looped my arm through his. Robin looked away, his eyes tightening at the corners, and the guil
t stabbed me again.
But what else could I expect?
His gaze this morning had told me everything I needed to know: we would never discuss it. It would be as if last night had never existed.
If I was really being smart, I’d go find myself a nice, wholesome Lesser, and build the professional walls between us out of iron and stone, an unbreachable fortress.
Messing around with the Gentry was only going to break my heart in the end.
Gwyn dropped my arm and pushed ahead of me as we approached the throng of reporters. A horned faun turned around and looked up at him with big eyes, her nose twitching. She held up a microphone.
“Move,” Gwyn growled.
I’d severely underestimated the reaction of other Fae to a Wild Hunter. They parted frantically, letting Robin go first, then me, and Gwyn brought up the rear, snarling at a reporter who shoved a microphone near my face. The microphone receded immediately.
The Garda let us into the clearing, and we stepped over the yellow cordons. I swallowed hard at the sight beyond it, regretting that tart.
Jack Frost rose from a crouch over the body, dusted off his gloved hands, and smiled at me and Robin. “You’re late.”
18
Behind Jack, the body was splattered all over the clearing, just like last time.
The taste of roses and raspberries was suddenly sour in my mouth, coating my tongue. I made myself look at it, asking: what would Robin look for?
The dead Fae had been large, at least six feet tall in life. They were shriveled to a husk, dark hair dry and frazzled, a handprint burned into their chest. Wet red flesh showed between the blackened cracks.
But the murderer had savaged them after death. Bits and pieces of them were strewn about, smeared on the oak tree’s tough bark, their clothes burned and ripped.
Jack took a step closer to Robin, the two hitmen bowing their heads together to talk, light and dark. I looked away from the body for a moment, focusing on the dichotomy they made just to give myself a second to come to terms with seeing this mutilation in broad daylight.
