by Eli Constant
“She’s a half-breed at best, Liam.”
“Hello,” I say sarcastically, “I’m sitting right here.”
Kiera quirks an eyebrow as if to say ‘and your point is?’
I stand, feeling fight mode coming back like a rabid coyote. Kiera is saved by the groan, though, as Kyle shifts positions and starts struggling to sit up.
“Kyle?” I question, rushing forward to support him as he moves. He still looks pale when he’s sat up on the sofa, but I love that I can sit beside him and he feels regular shifter warm, rather than dying shifter cold. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” his smile is hesitant as he eyes Kiera. “I’m guessing I have you to thank for that?”
“Yes. Though I’m not sure your girlfriend is as grateful.” She says ‘girlfriend’ with a snide undertone.
“Hey, I’m grateful. I just don’t appreciate being stalked, again, by a fairy.” Kyle tenses beside me, his protective Berserker...or maybe just his boyfriend instincts...flaring. I put a hand on his knee and give it a small squeeze. “So that brings me back to it. As far as my understanding goes, Dark Court members breezed into Bonneau and decided to dick around with a few supernaturals, Kyle being one victim. The Light Court markings on the bar, and on my apartment, were your scouts tracking down the foul play. Right?”
“Well, as we were already in the area,” Kiera remarks, perching herself on Kyle’s desk and looking effortless in her transparent clothing. “The side task of controlling our trouble-seeking dark brethren was a simple enough thing.”
“So Light Court Scouts were already in Bonneau?” I bite my lower lip as I waited for her answer.
“Yes,” she casually slings her long ginger hair over her shoulder. I really want to punch her, but I want answers more.
“And they were here already because...” I let the question trail off. I know what’s coming. I can feel it in my gut, just like I know I’m absolutely right that Braeden is behind Kyle’s illness.
“Because Oran, Prince of the Light, wished it so.” Kiera says the words I dread. “Your location was divulged to us months ago.”
“By my brother,” I say with absolute certainty.
“By someone who has trespassed many times against the Light Court, and who sought absolution for his sins.” Kiera tiptoes around a straight answer.
“It had to be my brother.” I focus on Liam. I want the absolute truth. I want to stop worrying about Braeden’s note and whether it was a lie to scare me or if he actually did it. I reach for Liam with my mind. An expression like pain crosses his face. Because, hell, if he did actually tell the Light Court like he said, then at least I know for sure. And you can stop trying to protect me so hard, Liam. You don’t have to run off all the time to lead them on a fake trail.
I speak out loud again so everyone can hear me. “He threatened to tell Oran in his letter, Liam. I mean... he said he did tell him. I keep wondering if it was a scare tactic, but if he did that would make sense. That would be why the fae scouts were here.” I stand, agitated, and Kyle reaches up and takes my hand. I can feel his need, and that he doesn’t want me to leave him. So I fight my need to pace and quell the anxiety trying to swallow me.
I am sorry for this, My Queen. Liam’s voice is a tenuous thread in my mind. It scares me.
“It was not your brother, Victoria. Though, I do not doubt the Dark Prince also spread the news in his own way,” Liam speaks slowly, his words heavy. And, suddenly, I don’t want the truth. “I did not simply escape from the Light Court prison. No one ever truly escapes. Through death perhaps...” He begins to pace; perhaps moving makes the truth fall easier from his lips. “I lied to you, in my desperation to return. I knew that your location would be found out sooner rather than later. Oran had his highest councilmen and scouts on the task. I bought my freedom by the bargain of you. Where you were, your life, your weaknesses, your strengths.”
Now, I am gripping Kyle’s hand hard. I’m making myself stay connected to him because I need him desperately and not the other way around. My chest hurts; my heart thumps. I’m breaking.
“All your talk about leading the scouts away? Of keeping me safe? I thought you gave up your entire damn fairy life to come back to me, Liam. And if you told Oran, if he knows where I am, why hasn’t he shown up with an army to whisk me away against my will?” I’m equal parts rage and pain.
“That was also part of the arrangement. I would keep tabs on you, teach you the ways of the Court, prepare you to take your place at the Light Prince’s side. It was the only way to keep you free.” Liam holds his hands out, hoping I’ll understand.
“Free... free for now, you mean. And all this time... all this time I was scared. I’ve been reading Braeden’s note over and over again for months.” I let go of Kyle’s hand and I march forward. I imagine each footfall is a gunshot at the great betrayal. The heartache weighs me down like so many sandbags before a hurricane. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I cock my arm back and I swing. My palm catches Liam’s hard cheek. I hit so hard that my hand stings and my elbow aches.
And he stands there stoically, hands now at his sides, ready to take more of my anger should I want to deal it out.
“Leave. Get out of this bar, get out of my town, and get out of my life.” I put my power behind the words. I let every iota of what I’ve learned pour through me. I am so angry that my skin begins to redden and blood begins to leak from my pores. It drips beneath Adam’s jacket and leaves me sticky. I shrug it off and let it fall to the floor with a thud. My floor-length dress now looks like leopard’s fur, dark spots blossoming on the olive green material.
“I did this to protect you, Victoria. They were coming for you; it was only a matter of time. I was able to delay it, to prepare you, to keep you safe.”
I shook my head and smiled. The power was reaching a tipping point, that crest where I would release my grip and let it overtake me. And I’d ride that wave, until I crashed on the beach and everything was broken in my wake.
In that moment, I realize how my powers have grown. But I also realize that I am hurting myself in my wrath. I am dragging my own life force forth through my skin, pouring it out into the world like the visual portrayal of a shattered heart.
“I did this all for you, Victoria. Please. Try and understand.”
“I do understand, Liam.” I speak softly, and that eye-of-the-storm sound is infinitely more frightening than yelling. “You lied to me. You have been lying to me. For so long. When you saw the Light Court marks, you knew exactly what that meant. You knew Kiera was following me, keeping track of me. How many scouts are here? How many eyes watch me and report to Oran? I can’t trust you. And you need to leave. And take your breeding partner with you.”
“This isn’t normal,” he looks at my body, at all the blood. “You need help. Something is happening to you. It is not part of the Blood powers.”
“I’ll figure it out. I. Don’t. Need. You.” I snap off each word like green bean tips.
He continues to try and reason with me. “If I leave, if my arrangement with Oran is void, he will come for you.” Liam’s eyes plead. His hands lift as if to touch me.
I move back from him, my body continuing to bleed like one great open wound. Rivulets of crimson are tracing down my face, falling from the red ocean hidden by my hair. “Let him come. Let him come and try his fucking luck.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“HE’S NOT GOING TO STAY away.” Kyle has made this statement at least three times since Liam and Kiera left. You’d think he would have stopped mentioning Liam after the first time, when my body had started bleeding again.
Now, I’m wearing a pair of gigantic sweats that won’t stay up even with the drawstring cinched down, and a Jim’s Bar shirt that’s seen better days. Thank god Jim had a full bathroom connected to his office—for nights he was too tired to go home. The soap and shampoos weren’t the best, and everything smelled like a woodsy pine, but at least I was clean. There’s a sm
all pile of blood-stained, damp bar cloths piled in the corner of Kyle’s office with my spotted dress. I’m trying to avoid looking at them. They’re a reminder that I nearly lost control.
And a reminder that I’ve lost Liam.
My lying fairy stalker. Who I shouldn’t be mourning at all.
I’m leaning against the wall, Moby Dick held loosely in my grip. Kyle’s stood stretching his body gingerly, the after-effects of the dark fae mark still a shadow in his body.
“Tori, realistically... he did the wrong thing for the right reasons.” My bear’s voice is full and deep, but not forceful. It’s reasonable. And for some reason I find reasonable harder to swallow than fly-off-the-handle emotion.
I turn on Kyle, fast and furious, feeling my power push and pull and beg for renewed release, but the look on my beau’s face stops me. It’s earnest, and a bit sorrowful.
“Look, I’m the last one to defend the guy. Lord knows he pisses me off left and right. But if he hadn’t told this Oran guy, then Braeden would have. And, on top of that, Liam would be in prison, possibly even more punished for withholding your location. And, honestly? Would you rather Liam have lied to you, or be dead?” Kyle moves to the corner of the room, to the pile of cloths and my ruined dress. “I’m going to soak these in the utility sink. Maybe we can save the dress.”
“Don’t worry about it, Kyle. We can just trash it.”
“Not with how sexy you look in it,” he says, giving a wry smile. Then he looks at me seriously, the smile still in place but not as warm. “Think about what I said. Don’t shut Liam out completely. He can do things for you that I can’t. And, honestly? I need him too. This thing inside me—this animal—I’m only now figuring out how to balance the beast.”
“I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry. I was just so... so fucking mad at him.” I walk away from the wall and place the book on the desk, then I grip the edge of the furniture, holding myself up as I think and go over what’s happened.
“Well, be mad. Stew for a while. Bleed it out.” Kyle holds up the cloth and dress in his hands. “But then find a way to move past it.”
“He’s your competition you know. Or at least he’d like to be.” I fold myself down onto the sofa, legs crossed and arms wrapped around my waist protectively. I try to sound teasing, but my words fall flat and sad.
Kyle stares at me for a moment and then he drops the dirty linens to the floor. He strides forward, his body tall and full of barely-contained energy, the power of which still carries the taint of being basically poisoned. He doesn’t sit down beside me, but instead grips me by the waist and lifts me back up to stand. My legs stretch out automatically. My arms find their way around his muscled chest. My body is against his, conformed together like one seamless line of human being.
His voice is a growl against my hair. “If another man...or fairy...can take you away from me, then I’m not doing my job right.”
Kyle’s fingers find the waistband of the too-large pants and it takes very little work to send them sliding down my hips and legs to bunch in a graceless pile at my ankles. It had been embarrassing earlier, when I’d stripped out of the bloody clothes to reveal the stained ‘wash day’ underwear. The holey bra. The granny panties. Now though, beneath the pants and the bar shirt, it’s all birthday suit.
His fingers cup the apples of my ass, and I love that he’s got such long arms and big hands. He can get to the thick of me, with little effort. He squeezes and lets loose a small moan of desperation. And then he kisses me, and any grief for Liam’s absence or regret washes away on a tide of desire.
“You’re feeling better,” I breathe out throatily, knowing I sound like Porn Star City versus average, ordinary, plus-size necromancer with a massive lady boner.
“Better enough,” he replies, brushing the hair away from my neck and kissing gently, slowly towards my jawline.
“Then I don’t want gentle.” I run my hand between our knitted-together bodies. I find that place of him that has grown hard with need. I have to trace an impossibly-long path down his jeans to find the tip. He’s always been big, but I swear the beast in him is translating outward, even when he’s not shifted.
Kyle lifts me into the air quickly and I wrap my legs around his waist in response. I’m still wearing the shirt; he’s still fully-dressed from the waist down. But our want for each other is overwhelming. I can feel the nakedness of myself pressed against his toned stomach, and the unfortunate sharpness of his belt below that.
“Take off your pants,” I mumble as I kiss his mouth deeply, our tongues dancing around like crazed ballerinas.
I’m already wet and ready; it’s been too long. I can tell he doesn’t want to put me down, not even to take off his pants. But he also realizes pants might be problematic when it comes to sex. He drops me and I gasp as I hit the sofa. But then I smile as I watch him jerk his belt undone and slam down the zipper of his jeans. I love that he wants me like this, with the same fire that warms my belly.
When he’s naked, stood in front of me, then I do want to pause and take him in—every glorious inch of him. Tall, muscled, a giant between the legs. I stand and move to press against him again. He frowns when it’s skin against shirt and he gently pushes me away, his hands taking the hem of the bar tee and lifting it upwards. I raise my arms obligingly, feeling the cool air of the office harden my nipples.
His hands brush against my stomach, like they always do before we’re intimate, and move upwards to knead my breasts. Even with Adam, I’d had moments of feeling not good enough. But with Kyle? That feeling had been fading over time, slowly, until it no longer defined me. At least when we’re like this—in the heat of the moment—and I’m lost in the passion. We could be together, without me getting inside my head and nitpicking the lines on my stomach, or the extra pounds on my ass. We’re just lovers. And we loved every damn inch of each other.
He picks me up again, so fast and fierce that I gasp and forget everything in the world except for him. This time, the only hardness beneath my ass is him. All him. The length and width and promise of him.
Carrying me around the couch, he presses me to the wall. Every motion shoves the firm line of him against me and when he lifts me a little higher, his dick lifts also and the tip of it brushes the sensitive skin around my opening. I give a soft cry and dig my face into his shoulder, my fingers clawing at his back and begging for more than just that whispered suggestion of sex.
But he holds me there like a vice, the wall against my back, him against my front. He kisses me like his life depends on it, like he’s drinking oxygen from my body and if he doesn’t he’ll die. I’m lost in him, a ship on a vast sea floating beneath beautiful skies that have the first touch of pink from a sinking, blissful sun.
“I love you, Kyle,” I gasp out before his mouth presses into me once more.
He stops kissing me and he just looks at me, a man lost in some ways, and found in others. “I’m going to love you until I die, Tori. Until there’s not a damn fragment of life left in me.”
And with that, we leave the wall. He carries me the short distance to the sofa and places me down, more gently than I want. The wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am is softening into lovemaking. I want to fight it, to give him a shove and tell him to take me like he means it, but then I realize he is—in his own way—taking me like he means it.
With soft fingers down my face, tracing across my lips. With one hand pushing my hips deeper into the couch cushions. He brings himself to hover over me, one knee on the couch, the other leg bent beside the sofa. It’s not quite wide enough for both of us, but that doesn’t matter. His head leans forward, and his lips caress my neck, then move lower.
Lower. Lower still.
His tongue traces around my nipples in slow, seasoned strokes. He knows what he’s doing. The way he plays a journey across my breasts. He continues to kiss down my stomach. And then his mouth finds warmer, wetter things.
I arch my back in pleasure, my head burying into the arm o
f the sofa and pressing painfully against the wood underneath. Which is ironic, considering I’m looking forward to having another type of wood pressing into another part of me very soon...
The building pressure between my legs makes my body quiver. Kyle’s mouth is magic, his tongue circling like a vulture above a meal.
Just as I’m about to crest that peak between absolute euphoria and the after-burn of orgasm, he pulls away and returns to my mouth hungrily. “You taste so good,” he runs his fingers through my hair and grips the strands firmly. He angles my head back so that we’re looking into each other’s eyes.
And then he shoves his hips forward in one deep, hard, thrust. I moan, feeling the fullness of him inside. He’s so long, so wide and large, that I think there’s not a single part of me he’s not touching.
God, I can taste him in my mouth.
He moves then, in and out in steadied, paced rhythm. He doesn’t want to rush this, doesn’t want it to end. And I understand why.
Our lives are so uncertain. Tomorrow could change everything.
But right now, we’re together. And it’s fucking magical.
He begins to move faster as he comes closer to the end.
And the fever pitch is building once more inside me, a warmness in my groin that threatens to burn me inside out. I feel my power responding to it, the life he’s about to pour inside me calling to the death that is a part of me, down to my marrow. A chill brushes our bodies. And my eyes fight to focus on the room around us.
Spirits are gathering.
So many in one place, more than I’ve ever seen before. Something is pushing through the center of them. A face... something familiar.
They watch us. And it’s disturbing and awful and macabre. And that face...
But my body is only aware of one thing. The way Kyle is moving, the way he’s growling against my body, the beads of sweat pooling between my breasts as we work up a hell-rivaling heat.
My eyes won’t stay open. I’m blinking, slowly against the fog of sex. My brain knows we are surrounded. That my power is still yelling out into the cosmos to anyone, or anything, that can hear it.
