by Chant, Zoe
“And since I am no longer unseelie,” he said, “I am not bound to keep their bargains. I return the human tithe Tamsin.”
It wasn’t dramatic. There was no whoosh of magic fire or sparkle of light. But Tamsin felt the tithe-curse break. It was like taking off her bra at the end of a long day; a niggling discomfort that she’d stopped noticing, until it went away. She took a deep breath, her soul soaring in that sudden sense of freedom.
And very distantly, she heard a voice, a male voice, howling in rage and bitter loss. Just for a moment…and then it was gone.
“Take her!” Maeve shrieked at Morcant. “Take her anyway! Make them both suffer for this insult!”
Morcant’s mismatched eyes flicked from Tamsin to Cuan and back again. For an instant, Tamsin’s heart clenched—but then Morcant’s blade and armor dissolved. The prince turned away, looking utterly disinterested once more.
“The tithe has been freed. No unseelie may lawfully lay claim to her. By tradition and right, she must be returned to her own realm.” Morcant’s gaze lingered on Maeve, pointedly. “The Winter King does not look kindly on law-breakers.”
Maeve spluttered, looking furious. “But-!”
Morcant’s owl-griffin leaned round Maeve’s chair. It splayed out one huge, heavy foot—idly, as though it was just stretching—and raked it thoughtfully across the floor. Its talons left deep grooves in the marble only inches away from the elf queen’s feet.
Maeve went very quiet.
“The warrior Cuan may also go where he will unhindered,” Morcant said, sounding bored with the whole affair. He clicked his fingers, and his griffin padded to his side. “By the authority granted to me by the Winter King, I grant you a day’s grace to leave his domain, warrior. I advise that you do not allow the moon to rise on you again in unseelie lands.”
Cuan gave the prince a respectful bow. “It will not.”
“You think you have won, beast?” Maeve laughed, though it sounded bitter and forced. “Where will you go? Do you truly think that the seelie will welcome you with open arms?”
“No.” Cuan smiled down at Tamsin, and joy shone in his eyes. “But I hope that there is one who will.”
Chapter 34
They crossed through the stone circle, straight into an ambush.
Cuan thrust Tamsin behind him, protecting her with his own body. He summoned both swords—oh, thank the Shining Ones, that still works in the human realm—and dropped into a combat crouch, ready to fight…
Nothing, apparently.
No enemy materialized. What he’d mistaken for the glitter of magic turned out to be nothing but small, brightly-colored fragments of paper. He found himself blinking, blades raised defensively, as tiny pink hearts fluttered around him.
“I told you confetti was a bad idea,” Betty said, from somewhere around ankle level.
“Okay,” Daisy said, sounding somewhat muffled. “Maybe I should have just made cupcakes.”
“Tamsin!” Cathy pushed past him without a second glance, brushing his upraised blades aside as though they were nothing more than tree branches. She seized Tamsin in a fierce embrace. “It worked! You’re back!”
Tamsin hugged her friend in return, just as enthusiastically. Before Cuan could step back to give the women some space, Jack’s sharp elbow caught him smack in the ribs. Shoving him aside, she flung her arms around Cathy and Tamsin both. A moment later, Hope too joined in the mass embrace, laughing, her blue eyes shining with tears.
Betty got to her feet, dusting off her knees, then bent to haul Daisy up as well. “Next time, don’t leap out at a highly-trained fae warrior yelling ‘Surprise!’, okay?”
Daisy beamed, not looking at all like someone who had come within a hair’s-breadth of being beheaded accidentally. “That was awesome. You moved so fast! You didn’t tell me that hellhounds had superpowers. Oooh, can you turn people by biting them, like werewolves in movies? Can you bite me?”
Betty put a hand over her eyes. “Don’t tempt me. Go join the others welcoming Tamsin back, Daisy.”
Daisy made a face at Betty, then bounced over. Cuan had expected her to fling herself enthusiastically into the mass hug, but to his surprise she flung her arms around him.
“Thanks, mister elf,” she said into his armor. She didn’t quite come up to his sternum. “For bringing her back to us.”
“You are most welcome,” he managed to gasp out. Daisy had a very strong embrace. If she was any more grateful, she was going to crack a rib.
To his relief, she released him. Eyes twinkling, she reached up to tousle his hair, as though he was a half-grown youth rather than an armored warrior who outmassed her twice over.
“I’m glad you’re staying in our world,” she said warmly. “I have soooooo many questions for you. And you’ve never seen any movies! Oh, I can’t wait! We are going to be best friends.”
She bounced off to Tamsin, leaving Cuan staring after her.
“Why did that feel vaguely like a threat?” he murmured to no one in particular.
“Only vaguely?” Betty joined him. She folded her arms, watching the tearful ongoing reunion with indulgent satisfaction. “You’ll be lucky if Daisy doesn’t kidnap you and chain you up in her broom cupboard.”
“I think that Tamsin may have something to say about that. She has strong opinions on the subject of chains.” He hesitated, casting Betty a sideways glance. “Ah, I hope that I do not have to worry about you clapping me in irons?”
Betty waved a hand. “I’ve already contacted my alpha and explained that you’re an outcast fae seeking asylum in the human realm. As long as you follow our rules and don’t make any trouble, the Wild Hunt won’t bother you.”
He gave her a small, grateful bow. “I would very much like to avoid all forms of trouble for a while.”
“No doubt.” Betty gave him a long, considering look. “But if you do find yourself wanting to keep your blades sharp…we could do with someone like you in the Wild Hunt. The scum who tithed Tamsin is still out there, and he’s just lost whatever he got from the fae. I’m betting he’s going to try to strike a new bargain as soon as he can, to get it back. And the next woman he sacrifices might not be lucky enough to meet her fated mate in the fae realm.”
A slight chill punctured the warmth in his chest. The thought of another woman facing what Tamsin had faced, alone and without aid…
He pushed down the instinctive surge of protective anger. This was a night for joy, not plans of war.
“I will have to talk it over with Tamsin,” he said. “I can make no promises about the future without consulting her first. But I suspect we both already know what she will say.”
Betty grinned at him. “I look forward to welcoming you into the Wild Hunt as a brother. And maybe I can help you in a few other ways, too. I know some people down in Brighton who know a bit about having to find your place in a strange new world. I think you should meet them.”
He gave her another, deeper bow. “I am very grateful for your aid, Mistress Betty. All of it.”
“Just Betty.” She punched his shoulder, warrior to warrior. “Welcome to the human realm. Now go get your mate, and go home.”
Chapter 35
“Home,” Tamsin repeated, lingering over the word. “I’m home.”
She had to keep saying it out loud. Not because she didn’t believe it—she’d felt a click like a puzzle piece settling into place the moment she’d walked through the front door. No, she kept saying it just because she could say it. Because it was true.
“Home,” she sighed in utter contentment, savoring that warm, tingling feeling of rightness. “Home.”
“Home,” Cuan agreed, smiling.
He’d been watching her with that small, wondering smile ever since they’d arrived at her cottage. As she’d fussed Angus and watered her wilting herb garden and squawked in horror at the disgusting state of her fridge, he’d been mostly silent. Just a quiet, comfortable presence.
A right presence. As right
as the vintage stove, or her granny’s handmade quilt, or Angus.
She snuggled closer into Cuan’s side. They were curled up on the sofa together, in front of the embers of a log fire—well, she was curled up. Cuan had taken off his armor, but he was still rather straight-backed and stiff.
“Nothing’s going to leap out of the cushions and challenge you to a duel.” She poked his side. “You can relax, you know.”
He let out an amused breath, his smile quirking wryly. “I do not know, actually. It occurs to me that I have never actually been anywhere I could completely relax. Even in Maeve’s court, I was always on my guard.”
“Mmm.” She pushed at him, bodily hauling him about until he was arranged in a posture that was slightly less soldier-on-duty. “Guess I’ll just have to teach you.”
His arm curled around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I would like that very much.”
With another happy sigh, she leaned her head against his chest, listening to his slow, calm heartbeat. She watched Angus’s paws twitch, chasing rabbits—or possibly evil fae—in his dreams.
Cuan’s fingers traced slow spirals over her shoulder. “I…never actually asked if you wanted me to stay.”
She lifted her head to shoot him a mock glare. “Cuan. Don’t make me chain you up.”
A low laugh rumbled through his chest, even as his eyes lit with a certain wicked heat. “You do not need to put me on a leash to keep me at your side. Though I very much hope that you will do so anyway, on occasion.”
“Good.” She stretched up to claim his lips. “That’s settled then.”
He rumbled agreement, mouth busy on her own. For a while, she lost herself in that wonderful, silent communication.
She felt his chest move under her palm in a slight sigh. He pulled back a little, looking rueful.
“Your friends Jack and Cathy cornered me while you were speaking with Betty and Hope,” he said. “They wished to impress certain things upon me. They were, ah, very forceful about it.”
Tamsin’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? What sort of things?”
Cuan gazed at the ceiling, his expression turning rather pained. “It was difficult for me to interpret some of their metaphors. But unless I am very much mistaken, they threatened to insert a very wide and very sharp length of cold iron in a rather private and uncomfortable place, should I seek to move too quickly with you.”
Tamsin smothered a giggle. “I bet. And what did you say in return?”
“The truth.” Cuan looked down at her again, his face still and solemn once more. “That I belonged to you, body and soul. But that you must choose what you did with me, and when.”
Tamsin traced the lines of the faemarks curling across his high, sharp cheekbones. “You promised me that you wouldn’t ask me to mate you, not ever again.”
“I did.”
“And unseelie fae can’t break promises.”
“No.” His eyes were dark as a solar eclipse, his irises just a thin ring of gold. “They cannot.”
His faemarks were gleaming now, shimmering with those iridescent shades of blue and green. Tamsin moved her hand lower, across his lips, and felt his breath catch.
“But you aren’t unseelie anymore,” she murmured.
His voice was the barest whisper, warm against her fingertips. “I am not.”
She leaned in. The kiss was sweet and soft, but she could feel the barely-restrained hunger behind it. There was a matching hunger building in her own body, hot and liquid. Under her palms, the muscles of his chest were rigid, shaking with tension.
“Cuan,” she breathed. “Ask me.”
His fingers twisted in her hair. He pulled her head back, just a bit, and heat surged between her thighs. His faemarks were alight with blue fire now. His wolf-gold eyes burned even brighter, shining with joy…and something else. Something fiercer, more primal, that made her shudder with delicious anticipation.
“Tamsin,” he said, in that deep, deep growl. “Be my mate.”
“Yes, yes!” She tried to press herself to him, but he still had a grip on her hair. “Oh yes, Cuan, yes.”
“Now?” He leaned closer, those burning eyes filling her world. “Now, and forever?”
“Yes!” Damn it, if he tried to turn this into some kind of lengthy, earnest discussion to establish mutual desire and consent… “Now, Cuan!”
Thankfully, he did not need further assurances. Which was just as well, since Tamsin felt about ready to explode.
A deep, wordless growl ripped from his throat. He scooped her up, effortlessly, so that she was straddling his lap. She pressed herself against him, kissing him, with the same frantic urgency that he kissed her.
Tamsin slid her hands downward, glorying in every taut line of his torso. The faemarks on his chest glowed through his shirt. She tugged impatiently at the fabric, wishing that she had the strength to just rip it off his body.
Cuan, bless him, didn’t need prompting. He broke the kiss just long enough to yank his shirt over his head. She greedily drank in the sight of him—all that gorgeous bronzed muscle, all that man.
All hers.
The sight only made her more desperate. She rocked against him, her breath coming in helpless gasps. He arced up, hands tight on her hips, grinding in just the right spot. Pleasure sparked through her, bright as his faemarks…but it still wasn’t enough.
Their clothes were a maddening barrier between them. She fumbled at his leather leggings, baffled by the complex system of straps and buckles that fastened them around his waist.
Damn it, I’m going to have to get this man some jeans.
“Take these off,” she mumbled into his mouth. “Take these off now.”
“Not here.” His hands slid under her backside. He stood up, taking her with him, supporting her whole weight without the slightest sign of strain. “Your bed.”
“Oh yes,” she sighed, recognizing the perfection of it. “Yes.”
Cuan carried her up to the bedroom—a slow process, that involved much kissing, and also quite a bit of muttered swearing and muffled laughter. Her crooked, oak-beamed, two-hundred-year-old cottage had not really been designed for towering faerie warriors, especially not ones carrying full-grown, giggling women.
He managed to get her to the bed at last. By silent agreement, they both stripped off their own clothes. There was a time and a place for slowly undressing one’s lover, and this was definitely not it.
In record time, Tamsin was naked on the bed. She stretched out, glorying in the sight of Cuan here, in her most private, personal sanctuary. He should have looked alien, outlandish, amidst her comfortable furnishings. But he stood there, huge and sculpted and dangerous, with glowing eyes and pointed ears and magic sparkling across his skin…and he wasn’t out of place at all.
This was exactly where he belonged. Where both of them belonged.
She beckoned to him, smiling, spreading her legs.
He came down to her. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight, welcoming him home.
He murmured her name, over and over, as he trailed kisses across her skin. He worshipped every inch of her, until her hands were fisted in the sheets, her back arcing up. Once, twice, she shattered under those strong hands, and each time he gathered her up and began all over again.
There was no need to rush. They had all the time in the world.
At last he positioned himself over her, braced on shaking arms. His long, dark hair hung down, wet with sweat, tangled by her hands. His faemarks burned around his intent, hungry eyes.
“All that I am, I give to you,” he said hoarsely. “I am yours, forever, always.”
“All that I am, I give to you,” she echoed. She reached up, tracing his glowing faemarks, joy singing through her. “I am yours. Forever, and always.”
She titled her hips, locking her ankles around his waist. “Now, Cuan.”
He slid into her, and they were one.
Forever.
* * *
Tamsin woke
up first. Even without opening her eyes, she knew that Cuan was still asleep. The knowledge was just there, deep in her soul.
He was there. A quiet, warm presence in the middle of her chest, as simple and natural as her own heartbeat. She could feel him, as clearly as she could feel his solid, hot weight against her back.
She started to reach for that sense of him, just because she could—and then checked herself.
I should let him sleep. He must be exhausted.
She grinned to herself, feeling the ache in her own muscles. She shifted away from Cuan, carefully wriggling out from under his heavy arm. He didn’t so much as twitch. He really was exhausted.
Yawning, she glanced at the time—and there was another simple thing she hadn’t been able to do in the fae realm, who’d have thought she’d have missed alarm clocks, of all things. Angus always demanded his breakfast promptly on the stroke of seven, and woe betide her if she was late. But she still had a little time to enjoy snuggling with her man.
Smiling, she stretched out her arms—and let out a squawk as she caught sight of her own right wrist.
Cuan’s presence abruptly blazed in her chest. He started up beside her, one hand already reaching for a sword before he’d even opened his eyes.
“Tamsin?” He scrambled to crouch protectively over her, every muscle in his torso tense. “Tamsin! What is it?”
“Nothing. Well, something, I guess, but not a thing that calls for a sword. I hope.” She showed him her arm. “Uh…is this supposed to happen?”
Intricate blue lines circled her wrist, standing out bright and bold against her dark skin. The braided knotwork pattern spiraled up her forearm, finishing just before the crook of her elbow.
Cuan’s mouth crooked in amazed wonder. Without a word, he laid his own arm next to hers, left against right. Before, his faemarks had ended on his biceps…but now he had a new one, just like hers, running down to his wrist.
