Claiming Valeria

by Rebecca Rivard

  “Yes. Part night fae, part human.”

  “And she’s half earth shifter as well,” Cleia murmured. “Could be the night fae just don’t like having their blood mixed with a shifter’s.”

  Valeria growled. “Then why don’t they just leave her alone? The shifter genes are the dominant ones. Most people don’t even realize she has some fae in her—at least, not any more than all the fada have.”

  “I agree,” said Cleia, “but the night fae aren’t known for their tolerance.” She glanced at Rui. “Who hired you?”

  “Lord Tyrus. Prince Langdon’s son.”

  Cleia nodded. “We’ve met. He’s the heir. He had an older brother but he died a number of years ago, before your clan came to America.”

  “Assassinated?” asked Dion.

  “Not as far as I know. I believe it was some rare disease that no one could treat. It took him very quickly—he was dead within days. But who knows? For the right price, there are fae who can infect you with an undetectable virus.”

  Valeria swallowed sickly. The terror she’d felt on the island returned. “What are we going to do?”

  Rui set a reassuring arm around her shoulders. But when he spoke, it was to Dion. “I think it’s time I had a talk with Lord Tyrus.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Valeria fingered the carved dolphin and stifled a sigh.

  Rui had been gone for two days now, and she missed him: his low, sexy voice, his calm way with Merry, the little surprises he’d arranged for one or both of them nearly every day. She missed telling him about her day and listening as he talked about his, knowing that only with her did he truly relax. She missed his touches: his soft, teasing kisses and hard, wild lovemaking. That one night had only left her hungry for more; she had a long dry spell to make up for.

  It didn’t help that Merry missed him, too. “When’s Tio Rui coming home?” she’d asked that evening when a second day had passed and he still hadn’t returned.

  They were cuddled together in her bed, reading. Valeria set aside the book and wrapped an arm around her small shoulders. “Soon, sweetheart.”

  Merry crossed her arms over her chest. “Next time, I’m going with him.”

  “He’s a busy man, sweetheart. He can’t always be with us.”

  “But you could mate with him. Then he’d be my daddy and we could all live together.” She slanted Valeria a look from under thick black lashes. “You love him, don’t you, Mama?”

  Yes. Yes, I do.

  And when she saw Rui, she was going to tell him—but it wasn’t for Merry to hear first.

  “That’s between Tio and me.” Valeria tapped her on the nose. “Now, enough talk. It’s time you went to sleep.”

  She remained with Merry until she was asleep, taking comfort from holding her warm little body. But with her sleeping and Sabela out on a date, Valeria was at loose ends. She paced restlessly around the apartment.

  Where was Rui, anyway? She hadn’t heard from him since he’d left to look for Tyrus. That wasn’t unusual—water fada couldn’t carry cell phones and could use computers only sparingly—but there were other ways of sending messages. If Rui hadn’t contacted the base, it meant he was deep in night fae territory.

  She touched the dolphin again and said a little prayer that he was all right. The night fae were a dark, sadistic people. If they discovered Rui somewhere he shouldn’t be, he was doomed. A fada might be able to assassinate a fae, but only if he took the fae by surprise. In a straight fight, a fae would win nearly every time.

  But no, she knew he was all right. The mate bond might not be fully active, but the connection was there, alive, vibrant. She would’ve felt if he were hurt—or dead.

  Her mind went to that last night, and the look on his face when he’d told her he loved her. Determined, but vulnerable. Her fingers tightened on the dolphin. Meu coração.

  Why hadn’t she told him she loved him back, that he was her heart, as well?

  She’d had time to think about what Cleia had said, that she’d used magic to lure him to her. He shouldn’t have been in the bar in the first place—because she knew damn well he’d been on the prowl for a woman—but if Cleia hadn’t turned up, he’d probably have come to his senses before actually doing anything. It had been Rui’s bad luck that Cleia had turned up at exactly the wrong moment. Otherwise he’d probably have come home the next day, hung-over and sheepish, and the two of them would’ve had a chance to work it out.

  She dropped onto the couch and scowled down at the rug. It was time to admit her own part in all of this. She’d all but pushed Rui out the door. She’d seen him flinch, felt his pain through the mate bond.

  And a part of her had been pleased, had wanted to punish him. He should feel bad for what he’d done. He’d left an innocent little girl an orphan.

  She wasn’t sure what she would’ve said if he’d come straight back after reporting to Dion, but she knew she wouldn’t have been kind or forgiving. Not then.

  But later, as the days turned into weeks and then into long, lonely months, she’d wished she’d at least waited to hear Rui’s side of it. To recoil from your mate was to strike at his very core, felt as it was through the mystical, soul-to-soul bond. But she hadn’t even given him a chance to explain.

  And even if what Rui had done was wrong, who was she to judge? In the two years since then, she’d seen firsthand how bad things were at Rock Run. That didn’t make what Rui had done right, but it did help her understand why.

  And there was the fact that without Rui, Merry probably would’ve died that night along with Silver.

  Valeria scrubbed her hands over her face. She’d probably never sort out all the rights and wrongs of that night. All she knew was that she loved Rui, and it was time to move on—because everybody deserved a second chance.

  Meanwhile it was getting late and Merry was an early riser. Rising to her feet, she extinguished the lights and went to bed.

  * * *

  Where the hell was Tyrus?

  After ascertaining the fae lord wasn’t in Baltimore, Rui had traveled to the night fae compound, located in an isolated area of Virginia’s Tidewater region. There, he’d slipped into one of the streams that ran through the compound and changed into a rockfish. The night fae had set wards to keep out intruders, but Rui had hidden among a school of menhaden, tricking the wards into believing he was just another fish. Fae wards tended to overlook animals. It was one of the things—along with their innate arrogance—that made the fae vulnerable to fada assassins.

  Rui had spent hours lurking in a stream near the night fae’s main buildings, which, true to rumor, did resemble crypts, built of granite or marble and set partly underground, with just a few feet showing above. The compound reminded him of New Orleans: Gothic stone buildings, towering trees and dank, oppressive shadows.

  But Tyrus was nowhere to be seen. Rui was about to leave when Tyrus’s father strolled into view with a pale, black-haired woman in a short silver dress, both of them wearing dark sunglasses to protect their eyes from the sunlight.

  They stopped just a few yards from his hiding place in the stream and he froze.

  Prince Langdon, tall, dark and preternaturally handsome, was cursing out his absent son for missing an important business negotiation without permission. “Damn Tyrus anyway. Lord Sindre was smirking at his empty seat the entire time.”

  Lord Sindre was the ice fae high lord. Interesting, thought Rui. The ice fae usually stayed in the far north or south, leaving the middle latitudes to the other fae. He’d love to know what business Sindre and the night fae were transacting, but that would have to wait.

  “Tyrus ignored a direct order,” Langdon continued. “And not for the first time. I want him punished, Fleur.”

  “I’ll make sure he’s properly remorseful, my lord,” she assured him. She turned, and Rui saw she was wearing the black star medallion that marked her as a night fae priestess.

  “You do that.” They exchanged knowing smiles. “I’
m counting on you, my dear.”

  Rui twitched his fins in distaste. Damn, the night fae made his skin—or in this case, scales—crawl. He waited to see if the priestess volunteered Tyrus’s whereabouts, but if she knew, she wasn’t saying. Langdon dismissed her and she strode off, long legs flashing under the short dress.

  One of Langdon’s bodyguards approached the stream. Rui tensed. The sight of a such a large fish in a narrow stream would scream river fada to anyone with half a brain. He whipped around and shot back downstream.

  Back in Baltimore, he cast around for a trail one more time. Still no luck. Even Hunter wasn’t to be found at the Full Moon Saloon and nobody seemed to know where his den was.

  By then it was close to noon and Rui had been away for almost three days with nothing to show for it. With a muttered curse, he aimed his motorcycle back up I-95. He wasn’t looking forward to telling Valeria that he hadn’t been able to locate Tyrus.

  But as he pulled his bike into the clan garage, Tiago do Rio burst from the shadows, wild-eyed and shaggy and smelling half-feral.

  “They have Valeria. You have to come. Now.”

  * * *

  Valera sat up in bed. Was that a knock?

  It came again and her heart leapt. It was just a little after six a.m. It had to be Rui.

  Merry was already pounding down the hall. “I’ll get it,” she called and dashed into the sala.

  As Valeria pulled on a T-shirt and shorts, she heard the door open and then Merry said in a flat voice, “Oh, it’s you, Senhor Petros.”

  Valeria hurried to join them. She scowled at Petros. “What do you want?”

  “I’m your guard today. I understand you’ve been having trouble with the earth shifters.”

  Valeria gripped the edge of the door. His scent reeked of deception—not quite a lie, but close.

  “I don’t need a guard. The alpha has ordered me not to leave the base.” Dion and Rui had decided it wasn’t safe for her to go crabbing even with a guard, so she and Merry had spent the last couple of days confined to the base and the small area of the creek protected by the concealing spell. “Now, goodbye and don’t bother me again.”

  She started to close the door, but Petros stopped it with his foot. The next moment, he was inside and had Merry’s face cupped in his hands. “Merry wants to come with me, right?” He stared into her eyes and muttered something in ancient Greek.

  To Valeria’s horror, Merry’s small body went taut. She shot Valeria a panicked look, but when she opened her mouth, all she said was, “Yes, Senhor Petros,” in a stiff little voice.

  “Good girl,” he said, releasing her.

  Valeria grabbed Merry’s shoulders, but something that stank of dark magic had wrapped itself around her like an invisible net. She instinctively jerked her hands away as it tried to latch on to her as well.

  She bared her teeth at Petros. “What did you do?”

  He smiled. “I bound her to obey me.”

  “What do you mean, you bound her?”

  “I mean I control her. Her mind is her own, but her body will do anything I order. For example, if I tell her to smash her head against the wall, she’ll do it. Would you like a demonstration?”

  Valeria’s hands fisted at her sides. “No,” she gritted. “Of course not.”

  “Good. Now we’re going to walk to the marina. Take her hand, Valeria. But lightly, or it will take hold of you, too.”

  Valeria saw no alternative but to obey. She took Merry’s hand. Cold tendrils brushed over her hand and wrist. She shuddered and tensed, but they seemed to sense that she wasn’t the one they’d been brought into being to control, so didn’t latch onto her.

  Merry’s fingers closed around hers. She gave them a light squeeze.

  “Don’t worry,” she murmured. “I’ll think of something.”

  “Get going.” Petros ushered them into the hall. “And Valeria? If we see anyone, don’t try anything. Just nod and keep going. Understand?”

  “Yes,” she said between tight lips.

  They set out, Merry moving like an automaton, her small body stiff, arms against her sides save for the hand clutching Valeria’s.

  Valeria glanced around, hoping that someone would notice something suspicious and force them to stop. But at this hour, the halls were nearly empty. The fishers were already out on the water and the rest of the clan was just waking up. The few people they passed were only distant acquaintances, and found nothing odd in Valeria merely greeting them and continuing on.

  At the exit, the sentry waved them through with a smile, making Valeria want to scream with frustration. They headed down the path to the marina, where Petros directed them to the Esperança, the small skiff Valeria used for crabbing.

  “Get in the boat.”

  Again, Valeria looked around her. Please, please, someone notice something’s wrong.

  But the few people still in the marina were on other piers, going about their business. Releasing Merry’s hand, she edged toward the side of the pier. Maybe she could fall in, pretend to be in trouble—odd behavior for a water fada. That should attract attraction.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, I wouldn’t if I were you.” Petros’s voice was silky. “Remember, I can order Merry’s body to do anything. I wonder how long she could hold her breath if I ordered her to dive to the bottom of the river?”

  Valeria gulped, fear and anger a hot mass in her chest. “Look,” she said, “it’s me you want. I swear I’ll go with you willingly. But please, leave her here. You don’t need her.”

  “But I do,” he replied with an odd little smile. “Now get in the boat. Unless—” He flicked his fingers suggestively toward the river.

  “No, please,” she blurted. “I—I’ll do whatever you ask.” Bending down, she told Merry, “We’d better do what he says, sweetheart. But I promise, it will be all right.”

  Merry blinked up at Valeria, her face pale under its tan. “Okay,” she whispered, her lips barely moving.

  Valeria swallowed sickly, because she had no idea how she was going to keep that promise. But all she said was, “That’s my girl.”

  She helped Merry into the skiff and then sat on a bench near the bow and pulled her onto her lap. The dark net of the spell writhed like a living thing. Tendrils brushed over her arms and face, cold and moist and hungry. She sucked in a breath and went almost as stiff as Merry, but Petros muttered something and they withdrew.

  As he took a seat in the stern facing them, Valeria gave an atavistic shudder. “That’s your Gift,” she said as it sank home what he was. “To bind others to do your will.”

  Very few fada had such a dark Gift. In fact, she’d only heard of one other, and he’d been killed by his alpha when he’d tried to use the Gift against him. Petros had been careful to hide his ability from the Rock Run clan.

  He smiled. “You know what I am, then.”

  “Yes,” she said between cold lips.

  He started the small motor and cast off, one hand on the tiller. The rest of Rock Run’s small flotilla were heading downriver toward the fertile fishing grounds at the mouth of the Susquehanna River, but Petros pointed their boat in the opposite direction.

  Valeria looked from him to the boats receding in the distance. “Where are you taking us?”

  “To a party. Remember?”

  And suddenly Valeria knew. Not all the old fada had renounced the bacchanals—and Petros was a very old fada. “A baccha?”

  He smiled without saying anything, but Valeria knew she was correct. She was too young to have participated in a baccha, but she’d heard the stories. They’d started as rites to celebrate the god Dionysus. Everyone gathered for the ecstatic orgies of wine and sex—fae, humans, animals and Dionysus himself. It was in the baccha that the fada had been born, a magical combination of all four.

  But as time passed, the rites grew sadistic: women and the weaker men forced to perform sexual acts with any man who desired it. Wine and drugs forced down a captive’s throat. H
arsh beatings at the slightest resistance until you begged for the release of death.

  And the most depraved had lured children into their games…

  Valeria’s throat constricted and for a few seconds she couldn’t breathe. Not Merry. Please, not Merry.

  Merry whimpered, and she realized she was squeezing her too tightly. The dark tendrils touched Valeria’s arms, seeking, seeking… Valeria loosened her grip on Merry and took a deep breath, knowing she needed to stay calm for her daughter.

  When she could speak again, she said, “All right,” as coolly as she could. “But we don’t need Merry, do we? If you let her off, I swear I’ll come with you. We don’t have to go back to the marina—just let her off anywhere along here.”

  Petros simply raised a dark brow and let out the throttle. The boat zoomed upriver.

  Merry rubbed her head against Valeria. “Please, Mama,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t want to go with him.”

  Valeria’s heart constricted. “I know.” She risked the black tendrils to give her a quick hug and tried again. “Petros, please. I’m begging you—let her go. She’s just a little girl.”

  “Swear it,” he said, to her shock. “Swear that if I let her go, you’ll come with me to my den.”

  “Your den?”

  “Me and a few other men have formed a den for those who want to follow the old ways—not like your alpha, with that sun fae bitch leading him around by the balls.” Petros spat into the river. “Now swear.”

  Valeria nodded and repeated his words back to him, all the while conscious of Merry trembling in her arms. They were silent after that, Valeria watching as they headed upriver away from Rock Run. An odd calm settled over her. She tried not to think about what would happen once she was alone with Petros. At least Merry would be safe.

  The old ways didn’t just include bacchas. The men had owned the women and children back then, had had the right to keep them in seclusion from other men if they chose. As in much of the human world at that time, a woman’s sole purpose was to mate and reproduce.

  But all that had changed in the last hundred years, just as it had in the rest of the world. Only a few pockets of resistors wanted to return to the way it had been, and they were dying out for the simple reason that few females would agree to such complete domination.