Cursed

by Nancy Corrigan

  Hands settled over his hips, lips pressed to his neck, and breasts pillowed against his spine. “Are you ready to play, Ian?”

  He closed his eyes and conjured Tegan’s image. He held it close as the illusionary demon pulled his zipper down.

  Tegan strode into Arawn’s chambers three days later. She’d spent every single minute of her time searching for another fairy ring, without luck. She would’ve continued to do so, but Trevor had regained consciousness a day ago and promised her he’d find one. She believed him. He loved Ian like a brother and had ways to get information the Huntsmen struggled with in the modern world. Combined with the nightly search of the hounds, they’d find a portal. In the meantime, she needed to deal with one other issue—the doubt over her father’s actions.

  Arawn turned at her abrupt arrival. He raised a brow. “Are you ready to take my offer?”

  “Did you kill Bjorn because you didn’t want me to fall in love?”

  “No.” He delivered his answer in a flat tone.

  She stared at his blank expression and asked the other question that had plagued her since confronting the illusionary Bjorn, the one who’d given voice to the fears she’d harbored for over a millennium. She’d taken Arawn’s word on Bjorn’s infidelity. It had hurt too much to investigate his claims.

  “His infidelity? Was it real?”

  Arawn sighed and closed the distance between them. “It caused you pain. Why would I make up such a thing?”

  “So I wouldn’t become weakened by love.”

  He snorted. “And confining you to the Underworld because you’d succumbed to your rage wasn’t a sign of weakness? I should’ve replaced you as third in my army then. I didn’t.” He gave her a wan smile. “I am many things, but I love my children. If I can prevent your suffering, I will.”

  She stared into his silver eyes with its darker ring of gray around his pupil and let a lifetime of memories wash over her. He did love her. It was Bjorn who hadn’t loved her enough. She’d risked her heart and failed. There was no shame in it. She accepted the truth and felt her heart lighten.

  She nodded.

  “Good.” He pulled a vial of shimmering liquid from his pocket and held it out to her. “Drink this. It’ll sever your bond to Ian.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Not now, but that might change.” He placed the cool tube in her hand and curled her fingers around it. “Take it and decide later. Lucas has informed me Ian will not die if he feeds regularly. You are free to make your choice without guilt.”

  “Don’t you want it to break your tie to Minerva?”

  He turned away and grabbed the decanter of liquor on the desk next to him. He poured a shot and drank it in one swallow. “If I do, she’ll die.”

  Tegan closed her eyes. “She gave up everything for Ian, including her immortality.”

  “Yes, and it’s my fault. I took the one thing she’d always craved away from her when I made the deal with the Triad to father my army.”

  “You’ve forgiven her?”

  Arawn poured another shot and drank. “No, but I do not wish her death. I still love her with all my heart and soul.” He downed a third and slammed the glass down. It shattered. “Love is not easy, daughter. I have no answers for you in your dilemma with Ian, but I wish you to have the options I do not. What you do next is up to you. I will not influence you.”

  He didn’t wait for her response. He crossed the room and disappeared onto the lower balcony. The sliding glass doors closed.

  She’d been dismissed.

  She tilted the vial. The liquid mesmerized her. For a moment, she saw Ian sitting alone on a rock crevice, rain soaking him.

  Real or illusion? She sighed. It didn’t matter. He was alone. She only prayed she’d get him back before he thought she’d abandoned him or forsaken their love.

  Grief made people do things they normally wouldn’t.

  Then again, so did love.

  Chapter 33, plus next book preview

  Tegan sat on the deck of the Huntsmen’s estate and watched the sun set. She knew she should begin her nightly search for a fairy ring, but she had to make a decision first. Twenty-seven days had passed since Ian had fallen into the fairy realm. Yes, time moved slower there, but Ian would’ve needed to feed after a couple of days. From what she gathered speaking to the older immortals, about nine days had passed for him.

  Lucas assured her if Ian didn’t feed, he’d simply grow weak but not die. The fairy realm wouldn’t allow it. Lucas also admitted he didn’t think Ian would be able to resist the lure of sex, whether it was with an illusionary woman or not. The Demon King claimed his hunger was the reason he hadn’t been able to walk away from Minerva. He’d starved himself for a millennium. He doubted a barely mature incubus would be able to withstand the temptation.

  Ever since Arawn had placed the vial of angel’s tears in her hand, she’d debated her choice and kept coming to the same conclusion. She loved Ian. She had to trust in their love. Ian’s choices were out of her control. They always had been, just as Bjorn’s had been. He’d known the risks of joining the Hunt. He’d taken them knowing full well he hadn’t been faithful to her. He hadn’t seen any problem with it or the murders he’d committed over his lifetime. His choice, his consequence.

  Ian had to make his too, and it was past time she made hers.

  She hopped the railing and walked toward the lake. The still waters offered her comfort. It was a beautiful sight, no matter what resided below it. She stepped to the edge and withdrew the capsule.

  An angel’s tears. Why would one cry for the Huntsmen? If someone had asked her that, she’d give the answer—because they’d sacrificed a millennium of their lives for the well-being of the humans—but she knew better. Their suffering would’ve been considered duty. Why have power and immortality if you weren’t willing to suffer for the benefit of those who didn’t?

  No, an angel had cried for them, and the species rarely showed any emotion.

  Why?

  She closed her eyes and recalled the moment when the Triad had spoken to them.

  Love. The deity had asked if they’d acted out of love when the Huntsmen had reached out to Harley. They’d answered unanimously, yes.

  Yet, until that moment, they’d all shunned it. They’d seen the pain Rowan had experienced. None had wanted to feel that too.

  Love was a risk. Rowan had gambled and lost. So too had Tegan, and it was time she risked her heart again.

  She popped the stopper and emptied the vial into the lake. Warmth snaked up her arm and settled in her heart. She breathed a sigh, then glanced at her hand, not needing the confirmation but unable to stop herself.

  The black line that had reached past her elbow was gone.

  She’d solved the Triad’s challenge.

  “Now I need to find my mate.”

  She spun on her heel. A fairy ring stood several feet away, the Triad’s doing, no doubt. She ran to it, uncaring of how it got there, and sliced her palm. Blood dripped, and the portal tossed her into the fairy realm. Rain soaked her clothes and chilled her. She shoved her hair from her eyes and scanned her surroundings. It matched the tiny peek she’d gotten from gazing into the angel’s tears. She glanced at the rock wall in front of her and caught a glimpse of Ian’s brown hair.

  “Ian!”

  He didn’t move. Fear gripped her, unreasonable yet undeniable. He couldn’t die. She reminded herself of the truth. It didn’t help. She needed to hold him and know he still lived. Beyond that, she didn’t have a clue what would happen. It all depended on Ian and his love for her.

  Ian pressed his palms to his ears and groaned. She was back to torture him again. He couldn’t take much more. The fairy magic had stopped tempting him with fake replicas of Cynthia and women in all shapes and sizes once it realized he wouldn’t be tempted, but it continued to bring him the one girl who owned him—heart, body, and soul.

  The one who’d also cursed him to his own living hell.

>   He kept reminding himself that it was possible she couldn’t find another fairy ring. The words had stopped bringing him comfort days ago, however. Numbness had gripped him in the time since she’d been ripped away from him. That and loneliness. He missed Tegan’s smile and the look of lust and love in her eyes when she gazed at him.

  No matter how many manifestations of her the magic in the realm created, none could capture the mixture of angel and siren Tegan was to him. All it had accomplished was to make his longings grow. Nobody else would do. He wanted the flesh-and-blood Tegan or nothing at all.

  Vanilla. Her scent filled his lungs. He groaned with the surge of lust tightening his body. No, goddammit, no. He used the last of his strength to roll to his side. Knees pulled into his chest, he closed his eyes and prayed the illusionary Tegan would just disappear and let him suffer in silence.

  “Ian.”

  Her voice caressed him in places none of the other fantasy lovers had been able to reach. Please, no. He refused to be swayed. He wanted to tell her to get away from him, but knew better than to talk to the conjured replicas. It gave them life and a hold over him.

  Soft hands touched his back, then moved to his sides. His muscles had long since shrunk. He was no more than saggy skin and bones.

  “My mate, I am sorry.” She pressed her lips to the back of his neck. Heat seeped into him along with power. His greedy cells soaked it up.

  She kept kissing him, across his shoulders, over his throat to his jaw. With trembling fingers, she tipped his chin and licked his lips, prodding at the seam to seek entry. He squeezed them tighter, all the while drinking in the energy her touch brought.

  “Look at me, my mate. It’s Tegan. I’m really here, not an illusion.”

  The tears in her voice forced him to crack his eyelids open. Beautiful brown eyes brimming with moisture stared down at him. His heart took up an erratic beat. Could it really be her?

  “Tegan?”

  She gave him a watery smile. “It’s me.” She held up her unmarred hand. “I figured it out.”

  “Oh, angel.”

  He opened his arms, and she settled against him on the cold, hard rock. On a sigh, he kissed her and poured his love into her. She returned it, and the strength he’d lost flared within him. His body filled out, and warmth returned to his cold limbs.

  “I love you, Tegan.”

  “And I love you, Ian Callahan.” She cupped his face in her palms. “Are you ready to go home?”

  “As long as I’m with you, I am home.”

  She gave him a smile that did crazy things to him, made his chest lighten and his cock ache. He wanted to get them into a bed and love her all night.

  “Then let’s go.” She stood and offered him a hand.

  He took it. “Aren’t you going to ask if I was faithful?”

  “No.”

  The look in her eyes told him she understood what his gaunt appearance meant. He gave her the words anyway. There’d be no misunderstanding between them. “I was, and I will be for an eternity. Together, remember? We face the future together.”

  She settled against his side, arms wrapped around his middle. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Neither would I, angel. Neither would I.”

  The Wild Hunt series continues with Rowan’s story, Reborn

  Read an Excerpt

  The darkened park looked dangerous. Sinister. Then again, so had the back alleys. Considering this was a city plagued with crime, however, Trevor O’Connor was having a hard time finding any criminals. Or, more specifically, a druggie who could tell him about the newest player in town, a guy in his late twenties who resembled the fucker who had tossed Trevor into the fairy realm.

  Seven weeks had passed since his little stint in the screwed-up magical realm. Tonight was his first chance to get revenge. Considering he couldn’t even find a homeless person, his plan of getting his hands on Craig, one of the three redcaps who were hidden from the power of the Wild Hunt, wasn’t looking promising. Once the sun rose, those humans who’d sold their souls to the Unseelie Fairies for immortality would slink away with their army of sluaghs, the walking dead, hiding until nightfall and their next opportunity to feed off the pain and fear of their victims.

  The familiar anger and frustration gripped him. The emotions always did when he thought about the nightmarish creatures. He wanted to wipe them from the earth. As a human, his ability to do so was limited. Not impossible, though. He had the advantage of knowing firsthand the dangers that lurked in the shadows. He also had the means to kill them—a small dagger infused with fairy blood.

  Hands loose at his sides, Trevor headed toward the rear entrance of the park. Overgrown and dense, the area offered a perfect spot for muggers to hide. At six-four and leanly muscled, he didn’t exactly fit the victim stereotype, but the outfit he’d chosen would lure the desperate. At least that was the reasoning behind donning the expensive suit, watch, and gold cuff links. The partially exposed wallet in his back pocket would add to the temptation.

  Somebody was sure to take him up on his unspoken offer. If not, he’d go shopping for a hooker tomorrow night or hit the scummiest bars he could find. One way or another, he was finding Craig. Once Trevor had his hands on the redcap, he’d make the bastard wish he’d never sold his soul to Dar, the leader of the Unseelie Fairy Court. An eternity of damnation awaited both. Trevor wanted to be the one to deliver Craig’s one-way ticket to Hell.

  A quick glance at his watch told him he had a little less than three hours before the Huntsmen—the bastard children of Arawn, the Lord of the Underworld—realized he was gone. It didn’t give him a lot of time, especially considering he had a two-hour drive ahead of him, but it was enough to take a detour through the park on the way to pick up his car. If he was lucky, he’d get mugged, coerce the information he needed out of his attacker, then make it back to the estate before the Huntsmen returned.

  While he’d healed from the knife wounds he’d sustained in the fairy realm, he’d kept track of the Hunters’ routines. They unleashed the Wild Hunt an hour or so after sundown, riding unseen on their ghostly horses, feet above the treetops or buildings, and searched for any sign of the Chaos that clung to the members of the Unseelie Court.

  Depending on their success and how far away they traveled, they returned to their mountain retreat, nestled in the Catskills of New York, during the hour or so before sunrise. Yeah, he was cutting it close, but he hated giving up, even if it were only for the day.

  His cell phone vibrated with the arrival of a new text. Great. Someone had come home early. He shouldn’t be surprised. His luck had sucked for months.

  For a moment, he considered ignoring the message, but that would just guarantee the Huntsmen would sic their hounds on him with an order to bring him home. Doing so would take the vicious dogs away from hunting the Unseelie creatures. Nope, not an outcome he wanted. The hounds had a duty to protect the innocent and helpless. He was neither.

  He paused near a burned-out lamppost and pulled out his phone. Ian’s profile pic showed on the screen. Trevor’s best friend had known he’d been itching to get out of the house and had probably come home early to check on him.

  Trevor sighed and tapped the screen to read the text.

  I knew we should’ve ordered some of the dogs to stay with you. Where did you go?

  Trevor typed his reply. Out for a walk. I’ll be back soon.

  Less than thirty seconds passed before Ian dropped the ultimatum. You’d better make it quick or Calan won’t let you out of his sight without protection.

  Trevor gripped his cell tighter and fought the urge to toss the brand-new phone on the pavement. He cracked his knuckles, then typed: He can make me a rider if he’s so damn worried about me dying.

  A minute passed, then another. Finally, Ian’s response popped up. Give it a couple of months.

  Trevor turned off his cell and shoved it in his back pocket. He had given it a couple of months, and he was still waiting. />
  Long strides took him deeper into the park. He kept his gaze down, but nobody jumped in his path or attacked him from behind. What the hell did he have to do in order to get mugged?

  He kicked a beer bottle out of his path, then smashed a soda can with his foot. Neither act eased his frustration. No, guilt added to the emotion tensing his shoulders. He stopped walking and fought with his conscience, which urged him to go back and pick up the garbage.

  It was his friend Allie’s fault that he was like this. All her talk about saving the environment and how little actions had the biggest impact when everyone did their part. She’d even convinced a couple of businesses near his mom’s bookstore to go green.

  If he had to guess, though, their agreement stemmed more from their reluctance to say no to Allie than from their concern over global warming. It was that look she got in her eyes, a mix of hope and excitement. Just the thought of squelching it made people feel like assholes.

  Exactly how he felt right now.

  He gnashed his teeth but spun on his heel and retrieved the trash some lazy-ass person had dropped on the ground. The garbage can a couple of feet away made the act worse. Whoever had left the mess hadn’t even bothered to look for a trash receptacle.

  Trevor walked past the can and headed toward the playground. There’d be recycling stations there. He might as well accomplish something positive tonight. It wasn’t as if his attempts to take out the threat to his fellow neighbors were meeting with any success.

  The jarring squeak of a swing stopped him in his tracks. Who in their right mind would take their kid to a city park at night to play?

  He dropped the bottle and can in the recycling bin along the path and turned the corner. A third time, he froze. The sight of the woman swinging, her raven hair streaming behind her and her skirt riding high on her lean thighs, stopped his heart. His groin tightened a moment later.