He sneered, turning his face towards her, knee up, arm resting atop it. At least from this angle, she couldn’t see his manhood, which was great, because when she didn’t see it, she didn’t think about sex…for, like, five seconds. Then her mind went back to it, like she was some horny teenage boy.
What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she focus on the hatred she felt for him instead of the yearning in her freaking loins?
He studied her, the disgust written clear as day in his face. “As if I could ever stomach your voice enough to want to hear you beg.”
That hurt, and it shouldn’t have, but Faith found herself saying, “As if I could ever stomach your face enough to want to see it above me while we—while we—” She couldn’t say it, but she could think it: have sex.
Dracyrus said the one word she did not want to hear: “Mate?”
She let out a frustrated sound. “No! You guys and your mating, and your females and males and…” Faith threw her hands up. “There are better words to use than that! Better, and a lot less weird. I—” She was about to school him in the words that Humans used, but she froze when she felt something crawling up her leg.
Looking down, Faith spotted that the water that had previously remained beneath her and not touching her one bit to get her wet, now inched up her skin like it was a living, breathing entity.
“Uh,” she said, shaking her legs. She did not like the feeling; she was too sensitive after that whole thing with the Dread King on top of her.
Dracyrus scowled. “You are returning. How fortunate that I am to remain here and regain what sanity you forced me to lose.” The water now coated her stomach, every crack and curve, sending a shiver up her spine. “Until the day we meet again, Harbinger.” His eyes, black and metallic, watched as the water swallowed her up.
Until the day they met again. Right. Because they would, because they were fated to fight each other until one of them died. Probably her, if her weak knees and inappropriate thoughts had any say in it.
Definitely her.
Chapter Seven
Faith’s eyes opened with a vengeance. She felt a strange mixture of things: cold and clammy because of the water, yet hot and bothered because of Dracyrus. The lower part of her stomach still burned, and as she stared at the canopy above her, she slowly realized that maybe it wasn’t her stomach burning after all. It was a different part. A part of her that never, ever burned.
“Shit,” she whispered, her voice sounding weak. He was right, of course. How pathetic she was to feel like this; how weak she was. Faith was at war with herself. Half of her wanted to kill the Dread King—it was what she was there for, after all. The other half wanted to touch him, run her hands all along his body, grab those horns again, trace his jaw and…do some other stuff.
There was a presence beside her, covering her with a shadow as he said, “You’re awake.” And then, before she had time to even see who it was, he hugged her, running his hands—clawed hands—through the mess that was her hair, touching his cheek to hers, frantic like he thought she’d never wake. A very touchy-feely sort of guy, wasn’t he?
At first, Faith was confused as to why Jag was touching her so much but then, really, she didn’t care. It felt good to be touched by someone, especially when she felt so wanting. So, for lack of a better word, lustful.
She hugged him back, fingers curling into the flop of black hair on top of his head, closing her eyes as she imagined—what, exactly? That Jag was instead the Dread King? She had to cut this shit out sooner rather than later, otherwise she’d be hopeless.
Jag pulled his face from hers, holding it inches before her as he asked, “Are you all right?” Such concern, such worry. How could he care about her that much, if she was so new to his life? Surely the concern was fake, somehow.
But the way his blue eyes stared at her, waiting for her to respond, Faith didn’t believe his worry for her was fake in the least.
“I’m okay,” she slowly said, arms falling to his shoulders. He was, she realized, shirtless. Shirtless and so very near. Even though he had fur and the markings of a black panther, he was still a man. A very strong man who was far too close to her in her current state of desire.
Faith had to take a cold bath or something.
She stared at her hands on his shoulders, touching the soft layer of fur there. It wasn’t thick or coarse; it was soft and smooth, the perfect pillow. His chest would make a very comfortable pillow. “I’m okay,” she said again, softer this time, drawing her hands down his chest.
What was she doing?
“Not that I don’t appreciate where this is going,” Jag said, gripping her hands and taking them off his chest, “but until we hammer out the details, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She blinked. He didn’t think what was a good idea? Surely he didn’t think…yep, that’s what he thought. Faith couldn’t blame him, for she was acting a little weird, maybe a bit too obvious that she was feeling frisky—but what did he mean by hammer out the details? What details?
So she asked, “What details?”
“The details,” Jag said, slowly letting go of her hands.
As they fell to her lap, she asked again, “What are you talking about?”
He gave her a smile that sent her insides aflutter. “I think you know.” Did she? Did she know? All Faith knew was that she wanted to touch someone and be touched in return, but she couldn’t go out and say that, could she? Surely he’d think she was mad.
In a way, Faith was. Totally and completely mad. Out of her mind.
She scooted to the edge of the bed, noticing that she was in the same room that she had slept in last time, with the floor-to-ceiling windows on one wall and sparse but elegant furniture everywhere else. The same room she and Light had gotten to know each other’s mouths very well in.
God. When did she turn into such a sex freak?
No lips, no touching, definitely no sex, Faith told herself as she stood. She glanced around. “Where’s Light?”
“Ah, yes, the other man,” Jag mused. The other man? “He’s with Camden, I think. Let’s go get him, and we can all sit down and hammer out those pesky details.” She didn’t even have time to wonder what details he meant before he grabbed her hand and tugged her out of the room.
After she’d gotten some food and cleaned herself up a bit, they eventually headed to the garden when they passed the same room Faith had eaten—or acted like a pig—with Ophelia. Jag was intent on walking right past it, but she yanked him to a stop. There were people in the room. People as in Humans.
Two I.D. soldiers stood outside of the room, along with half a dozen Elven guards. It was the discerning green eyes of a red-headed, mask-wearing hunter that stopped her dead. And not hunter in the frolic-and-shoot kind; hunter as in stalk-and-take-town-illegal-goons kind.
“Finn?” Faith exclaimed, shaking off Jag’s hand the moment Finn’s gaze fell to it. There were certain things she didn’t want to explain. Finn was here, in the Second, all beefed-up with his strength implant, and he was the one staring weirdly at her?
The nerve.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, astounded, confused, and doing her best to ignore the prickling Jag beside her. Jag was busy sizing Finn up like he was an opponent, like he was ready to fight him.
Finn wasn’t shocked by her sudden appearance. “I should ask you the same thing.”
That son of a bitch. Faith wanted to sock him in his square jaw. So what if she used to have a huge crush on him? So what if she once, years ago, tried asking him to a dance, using a robotic cat she built in home-ec when she was two lessons ahead of the class as a messenger, only to have it blow up in his face? That didn’t mean she liked him now, even if he was stunningly attractive, with his unnaturally red hair that was the perfect length to run her hands through…
Dear God. She had to stop this right now.
“Wait a moment,” Finn said, “I already know what you’re doing here, besides breaking rule
s.”
“As if you’re the poster boy for the I.D.,” Faith growled out.
“A better poster boy than you,” he said with half a smile. Cocky, arrogant, haughty. “Unlike you, I don’t go on illegal hunts, get kidnapped or waste my superior’s time.” He would reference the time when she thought she had a crook in the bag, the time when he told on her, narking on her like he was some kind of professional…nark.
Faith thought about arguing with him, but with his attitude she’d get nowhere, so she simply peered around into the room. “My mom in there?”
Finn shook his head. “Nope.” On his neck, his rope Victus was visible, and before she caught herself, she wondered what it would feel like to be tied up. “The President is, though.”
All she could do was nod and say “Great,” too busy staring at his neck and wondering why she was going insane.
Two figures emerged from the room, one light-skinned and one dark, both ridiculously tall. Light and Camden. Light was beside her in an instant, his bright blue eyes wrought with worry. “Are you all right?” he asked, gently touching her arm while Camden stood back with his arms crossed.
Before she had the time to respond, Finn chuckled. “Looks like you’re picking up a lot of boyfriends over here, Faith. Never knew you had it in you.” He mocked her, which made her even more upset. He noticed Camden’s cloudy gaze, saying, “Do you even know what a boyfriend is?”
The silence was all he needed.
Finn shrugged. “Whatever. Here’s the thing, Faith, I don’t care, but you know what? You should. You should care, because whatever the President decides, you’ll have to go along with it. I hope you get suspended from the Academy. I hope—”
“Watch your tongue, Human,” Light said, taking an aggressive stance.
“I’m not impressed by your entourage,” Finn said, talking directly to Faith and ignoring her so-called boyfriends. “And I’m not intimidated.”
Faith started, “You should be, because…” What was she trying to say?
“Because what?”
“Because,” Faith paused, not knowing where exactly she was going with this, “because you suck.” Yeah, great comeback. That’ll teach him not to be so jackass-y.
He laughed. “How old are you?”
She fumed, for she knew Finn knew how old she was. They went to school together for the last few years, even if he was a few grades above her. Plus, no one forgot an incident where eyebrows were singed off. Just didn’t happen.
Having nothing else to say to him, Faith stormed into the room, meeting the curious eyes of the Court members and the knowing eyes of President Tullie. Around them were more I.D. men and women, looking quite bored as they all stared up at the sky. Some of them leaned comfortably on the walls where vines grew and flowers sprouted.
“Tullie,” Faith spoke without thinking. “President Tullie. I didn’t expect you here.”
Tullie simply smiled a strained smile as she sipped her goblet. She always looked stern and no-nonsense, and beyond that, the gears were working behind her eyes. A giant table of food sat between them, though most of the food looked untouched. “Ms. Blackwell, you certainly should have expected me.”
Right.
“Is my mom—”
“In trouble?” Tullie offered all too quickly. “No, for I doubt she knew of your plan to return here. She’s a good agent. If she had, I’ve no doubt she would’ve stopped you.” Her legs were crossed beneath her knee-length skirt. Despite her relaxed position, Faith knew Tullie was ready to leap into action at any given moment.
Jag moved in the room beside her, his chest brushing her arm from his nearness. “To be fair, the plan was Light’s idea.” Light shot him a glare, probably wondering why he felt the need to throw them all under the bus. “I only helped.”
“Who was your contact on Earth?” Tullie asked, meeting his stare.
Taking a step back, Jag shrugged. “I don’t know.”
That made Tullie laugh. “You don’t know your contact? I find that impossible to believe.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Light said, standing on Faith’s other side. “She’s needed here. She can’t go back. She can’t pretend to be normal. Not anymore.”
“He’s right,” Faith said, speaking to Tullie, sounding as willful and confident as she could. “I’m the Harbinger. I have to stay here.”
Tullie set down the goblet, tapping her fingers on the table. On the other side of it, the three Elven Court members watched in silence. “To do what? To defeat some dragon king who is reborn every so often? What happens in this realm is of no concern to you, Faith.”
“And what about unity?” Ophelia broke the Court’s silence.
“You gave up unity when you let half our class get stolen from under your noses,” Tullie said, straightening her collar. “Why should we care about what happens here?”
“If Faith fails to defeat the Dread King,” Ophelia said, “his power will be unmatched. If you think he will stop at conquering us, you are wrong. He will go into your world and attack your people. He hates Humanity.”
“And it’s Dracon, not dragon,” Jag interjected. “Not sure what a dragon is, anyway.”
“Say that’s true,” Tullie said, glancing to Faith. “And I’m not saying it is—but what hope does one untrained girl have in defeating a king?” Untrained? Untrained her ass. She knew stuff. She knew a lot of things. Stuff and things were all she needed to know, right? “If I agree to let her stay here to do this for you, for us all, odds are I am leaving her here to die.”
Faith bit her lip. She felt awkward standing when the big players of the conversation were all sitting, arguing about her. “I’m not going to die,” she said. “Not yet.” Her arms were firmly glued to her sides, and she hoped that Tullie hadn’t seen either of her Victi. “I have to do this, President Tullie. I have to.”
It was a long moment before Tullie whispered, “Even if I say you’ll be expelled from the Academy, that you’ll never work for the I.D.?”
Was it a threat or a promise? Either way, Faith couldn’t back down, even though it hurt her to know that she’d never be able to have the one job she always wanted. She was sluggish in nodding once.
“And what about your friend? Your mother? What about that grandmother? You would forsake them all for the Second?” Tullie baited her.
“I’m not forsaking anyone. I’m saving them.” In a way. “No amount of guilt-tripping is going to make me change my mind.” It did make her sad to think of Cara, of her grandma—her mom? Not so much.
Tullie stared at her, stared at her hard, harder than she’d ever looked at her, even when talking with her about her unsanctioned hunt. Her eyes, knowing everything, seemed to soften finally as she said, “Fine. I will not force you to come back with us, as long as you are aware of the consequences, should you succeed and want to return to Earth.”
Faith nodded once.
“Very well.” She got to her feet. “Is there anything you’d like me to pass along to Miss Dung?”
Wincing at her friend’s unfortunate last name, Faith said, “Tell her I’m going on an adventure, and then show her that meme with the Hobbit running away from his home happy.”
Tullie let out a long sigh. “Fine. I will also inform your mother of the decision, and the consequences.” Her sharp gaze turned to the I.D. men and women in the room. She must not have seen who she looked for, for she said “Excuse me for a moment” and stepped out of the room.
A startled “What?” came from the hallway, and then resignation, “Yes, ma'am.” Was that Finn’s voice?
Returning in the room, Tullie said, “I’m going to have Mr. Cunningham remain here as well.”
Now it was Faith’s turn. “What? Why?”
“To make sure you stay in line, Ms. Blackwell. I also told your mother I would do my best to ensure nothing happens to you.” Tullie quieted as she added, “I’ve known you your whole life, Faith. I want you to come home when this is done. I trust you will no
t let me down.” With a quick movement of her head, Tullie led the I.D. soldiers from the room.
It was only the Court members and Faith now, along with her numerous boyfriends—oh, and Finn, who scowled deeply as he entered the room. He had no weapon in his hands, nor on his sides. He had a Victus. He was a hunter for the I.D., and a good one, even if he had just graduated. Beneath his mask, he glared at Faith.
“I know, I know,” Faith said. “You’re going to miss The Bachelorette. I’m upset about that, too.”
Finn crossed his arms. “Still making bad jokes, I see.”
Her gaze narrowed at him. “Only sometimes.”
God. Her luck sucked. Not only was she horny for the Dread King, but now she had Finn as an unwelcome tagalong? This day could not get any worse.
Chapter Eight
Light’s relief at seeing Faith awake was short-lived, for a lot of reasons. The biggest being the newest addition to their group—the Human boy, Finn. It seemed to him that Finn and Faith had a lot of shared history. That was wholly unwelcome.
Beside him, Jag was frowning. “I don’t like him,” he said, gazing steadily at Finn. “I don’t like him at all.” His voice lowered, “What’s The Bachelorette?” He whispered it like an urgent secret.
“I have no idea,” Light replied, though it looked like Finn knew. Was it a person, a thing? Why would they both miss it? He thought about asking her to explain, but a larger part of him did not want Finn to see him as a clueless Elf.
A boyfriend, Finn had called him earlier. Light could infer what that meant. He’d also called Jag one, in which case, if they were her boyfriends, they were doing an awful job at keeping other males away from her.
“Come,” Ophelia said, standing. “Let us convene in the courtroom, where there is more space.” She gave everyone a dazzling smile and was the first out of the dining room, trailed by Frey and Bul’ara, who remained quiet and pensive. Odd, for Frey especially.
The Fellowship: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (The Harbinger Book 2) Page 4
