Fatal Assassin (Fatal Fae Book 2) Page 13

  Her traitorous gaze went to his face and she sucked in a breath at the intensity in his eyes. He was fucking her, yes, but there was something lurking in the brown depths that unsettled her. She tried to look away, but couldn’t. The confusion and fear she saw in his expression tore through her psyche.

  Why would he fear her?

  His head bent and a moment later, his lips were on her neck, sucking with such force she knew he’d leave a mark and for once, didn’t care. The delightful pain went straight to her core. A mumbled, “Oh God,” escaped her clenched lips and she felt herself tumbling into her orgasm.

  Cian’s lips returned to her mouth and she opened for him, hungrily sucking on his tongue, milking it with her mouth. His groan rose to the ceiling and, she imagined, out through the roof to cover all of London. Her own cries came as shuddering gasps as she pulsed around his cock.

  Instead of pushing away from her and gathering his discarded clothes, he gazed at her with a look of wonder in those gorgeous brown eyes. His fingertips swiped errant hairs from her face, only to return a moment later and trace over her skin. His lips made featherlight landings upon her chin, her cheeks, her eyelids.

  She let him. Gods help her, but she let him.

  Her legs wrapped around his waist and she leaned against the wall for stability. She moaned when his hands cupped her breasts, and whimpered when his hot tongue sucked on her earlobe.

  Gods help her, she wanted more.

  “I’m going to shower, and would love your company. Then I’ll make us dinner.” Cian’s words drifted to her through a dreamy fog.

  “Mmmm hmmm.” She lowered her legs and regretted losing contact with his skin.

  She watched him walk bare assed to his bedroom. At the door, he gave a cheeky grin with a nod toward the shower, then went inside.

  Nikala pressed her hands to her face, enjoying the scratch of bandage on her sensitive skin. Bollocks. The water turned on and Cian called out to her, but she wasn’t joining him any time soon. She grabbed at her panties and yanked them up while cramming her legs through her trousers. In less than a minute, she was dressed and out the door.

  Fucking Cian MacNair. She should’ve killed him. But why had he looked at her that way? And for fuck’s sake, why did he offer to make her dinner? This wasn’t a fucking date. Why had he been so sweet?

  15

  Therron stroked the cheek of his cursed love. Her whimpers had faded and she curled, relaxed, into the blankets. She no longer needed him. As much as he wished to remain, she hadn’t asked him to stay and he didn’t wish to overstep. With a muffled sigh of regret, he left her sleeping in the gigantic bed. All of the beds in Midna’s palace were made to sleep at least three, preferably more. She might pretend she didn’t encourage couplings, but Therron knew Rori had guessed the truth—the Unseelie queen delighted in love. It was she who was a romantic, not him like Rori had assumed. He smiled to himself as he left Rori’s chamber and hurried down the quiet hallway.

  At the balcony, he leaned over to see Midna reclined on her divan, several fae suckling various body parts. Dammit.

  He jogged down the stairs to the ground floor and approached with caution. When the queen was in one of her moods, it made negotiating with her more difficult. He hoped the fae snuggled against her gossamer-covered ebony skin had satisfied her enough he could make a single request.

  “Therron,” Midna slurred and he relaxed. That was the sound he’d hoped to hear—contentment.

  “Your Majesty.” He knelt to whisper in her ear and she turned to catch his cheek with her lips.

  “Why must you deny me?” Her nose angled toward his lips and she sniffed like a dog caught on a scent. “Ah.” Laughter bubbled in the single word. “I see.”

  A hand snaked its way up his arm and she gripped his sleeve with hands like iron. The fae sleeping to her right lifted his head, his long hair covering most of his face. A snarl made his handsome features ugly. Not just the sneer, but a look of venom in his eyes.

  “Easy, mate. I just need to ask her a question.” The calm in Therron’s voice belied the anger the young fae’s possessiveness brought out in him.

  Hangers-on, moochers—all of them. They took and took and took from the queen, but how often did any of them give something in return?

  “I envy her,” Midna was saying, close to his ear, but loud enough the fae also heard. “Does she know?”

  “Not from me,” Therron answered. He couldn’t tell Rori his fate, or that he’d loved her the moment he saw her. She’d never believe him. “I wish to use your doorway to the Seelie Court.”

  “You’re leaving us so soon? What will she think if you desert her now?”

  He’d asked himself the same thing a dozen times and didn’t like the answer. She came to the Unseelie Court for a reason and would be hard-pressed to pursue that education with him around. That was part of it, but he knew if he stayed, he’d lose himself to madness seeing Rori with even one of the handsome fae waiting on Midna. Jealousy, raw and primal, tore through his heart. He’d rather die than watch her lose her heart to another. After all, he was only a thief. At least he could leave knowing one thing for sure—Rori had stolen much more than his heart.

  Midna sat up, dislodging the young fae and several others. The sneer the man wore turned to a hiss and Midna waved him off. “Go see to the others. Go now, that’s a good boy.” When she returned to Therron, a darkness had entered her eyes. “The young are so tedious.”

  Another fae approached, this one tall and muscular and handsome. His short hair caught the scant sunlight that shone from the covered windows, giving him a haloed appearance.

  “My queen.” He knelt opposite Therron. In contrast to the young fae, this man’s eyes shone of devotion and, Therron admitted, love. He’d always thought the álainn obedience selfish in their wants, but this man sought to care for his queen, not take from her. “You should be in your chambers, resting. Let me accompany you.”

  “Yes, it was a taxing night.” Midna held her hand to the fae and rose. “What do you seek in Eirlys’s kingdom?”

  Therron rose as well, his hand at Midna’s elbow. “The guard, Dorchmeir. I’m hoping he can give us answers. And I’d like to know if there are others in her employ who wish Faerie harm.”

  “Smart man.” She stroked his unmarked cheek. “I shall have to investigate here, as well.” A sly grin lifted her lips. “Interrogations can be so much fun.” A devilish glint lit the depths of her charcoal-colored eyes. A moment later, they turned a shocking shade of green and her skin gleamed like porcelain. “Fabian, see Therron to the Room of Mirrors, then come to my quarters. We must discuss how to find those who wish not to be found.”

  “Yes, my queen.” Fabian released Midna’s hand, reluctance clear on his features. He turned and strolled in the opposite direction. The short skirt he wore swung with his strides.

  “Thank you.” Therron leaned in to kiss Midna’s cheek and whisper, “Let Rori discover her purpose on her own. She doesn’t need to be confused with any sense of loyalty to me.”

  Midna nodded, a look of resignation in her eyes.

  Despite the rumors, Therron knew Midna wouldn’t force Rori to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with. It was the question of how far Rori would push herself that haunted his thoughts. Of all the trapped fae, she was the only one to break out of Acelyne’s glass prison and in the short time they’d spent together, he saw her ferocious need to succeed. Not win, but to do a task to her best ability, no matter the cost. Her confrontation with Acelyne was one of many instances he’d witnessed.

  Therron jogged to catch up to the pretty fae named Fabian and they walked in silence to the Room of Mirrors. Once there, Fabian bowed low to Therron.

  “My queen is vexed of late. If there is anything I can do to help ease her burdens, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Convince her to stop letting others use her. Tell her she doesn’t need to be her kingdom’s life-giving source. Love her with as much care and
devotion as you’ve shown and earn her love in return.

  All of these thoughts and more coursed through Therron’s mind, but he simply said, “I will. And in return, I would appreciate Rori having a friend here in the palace. There are many who are not fond of the MacNairs, but would smile to Rori’s face for their own betterment.”

  “It shall be done.” Fabian gripped Therron’s forearm and he did the same.

  With nothing more to be said, Therron entered the room and took a deep breath. The last time he was here, it had been with Rori, and the strange little girl had shown up. He glanced from mirror to mirror, but saw only his own reflection.

  Satisfied no one else was in the room, or watching from one of the many mirrors, he chose the frame that would take him to the Seelie palace and said the words required to open the portal. A wavering of glass beckoned and he stepped inside. The expected soundless blackness enveloped him. Therron kept his eyes open, aware that the portals were never safe, and ready for an attack at the other end. He couldn’t be certain what he walked into. Eirlys had brought Dorchmeir with her to the vale. If others were involved, they might have overrun the palace in the queen’s absence.

  A dot of light came into focus and Therron stiffened with apprehension. The closer he came, the harder he listened, but only silence answered him.

  He stepped from the mirror into the Seelie queen’s Room of Mirrors and shook out the tension in his arms. In the few times he’d used a fae portal, he hadn’t grown accustomed to the paralyzing emptiness within. Theirs had a different feel to them than elven doorways. It had been several millennia since the same fae who cursed his family had brought portal knowledge to Faerie. In the centuries since, the fae believed they were the only ones who understood the magic of doorways between one place and another. The elves were happy to let them believe the fallacy and encouraged the lie. If the fae didn’t remember where the knowledge had come from, they wouldn’t try to steal from the elves ever again. At least, that’s what the elders believed, but Therron was of another mind—share information. Remove the mystique and stop the childish contention of who can best the other.

  All of the problems happening around them stemmed from pride. From mistakes made in haste and grudges borne from lack of understanding. It did no good to fear the unknown. His hand went to his cheek and he flinched at the heat coming off his scar. Such a hypocrite. He, more than anyone, feared the past. Feared the darkness that spread over the land. He’d lied when he told Rori he didn’t bother with fae politics. They were all connected—the faeries, goblins, trolls, brownies, imps, ogres: all the living creatures of this world created a precious balance. Even the mortal realm, or human realm as Rori called it, affected what happened in Faerie.

  The relationship between these two worlds were intertwined in a way that made him uncomfortable. Humans were unpredictable and savage. They thrived on disruption and war, something he couldn’t understand. Nor did he wish to. Yet, if he were to help Elvenwood and Faerie, understanding was just the beginning. How could they ever hope to survive a war with the mortal realm? They had war machines that could exterminate Elvenwood within moments. The elves had magic, but would it be enough? He shook himself to rid the awful images from his mind. It would be best to focus on the here and now, not worry about what-ifs that might never happen.

  Therron scanned the mirrors, trying to recall which one was the exit.

  A flurry of air to his left set his senses on high alert and he reached for his sword. A moment later, Eirlys stepped through the mirror and into the room. With one quick glance, she took in the entirety of the room. Her steely gaze settled on Therron.

  “Why are you here?” Her accusing tone set him on edge. She brushed invisible lint from her velvet gown. “I could have you killed for trespassing, thief.”

  Therron placed a hand over his heart and bowed low. “I come with Midna’s blessing to seek answers from your guard, Dorchmeir. Acelyne didn’t provide us with much insight and it occurred to me that he might fill in some gaps.”

  Eirlys nodded, her lips pursed. “Is Rori with you?”

  “I left her with Midna.” His stomach pinched and his palms slicked. Thinking about what she would soon be doing at the Unseelie Court would do him no good. He had to concentrate on the task at hand.

  “I see. Follow me.” Eirlys swept past him and he moved in step with the queen. “I, too, seek answers. We shall question Dorchmeir together and hopefully be more successful than you were with the enchantress. Time is of the essence. Step quickly.”

  “Pardon me, ma’am, but I thought you were averse to being near the necromancer?”

  “Not the necromancers. Acelyne.” Eirlys turned a door handle cleverly hidden in the design of a mirror’s frame. “I couldn’t risk her using one last trick to capture Arianna again.”

  They rushed down the hallway, with courtiers and servants scurrying out of their way. Once outside the palace proper, Eirlys turned in the direction of the gardens and strode across a vast lawn to outbuildings on the edge of a forest. At the door to the second stone structure, she paused.

  “What you hear in here must be kept between us. No sharing with Rori or her brother. Am I understood?” Therron nodded, a lump caught in his throat. “Good,” Eirlys continued, “because what I’m about to do is against every doctrine and protocol upholding my reign as the Seelie queen.”

  She yanked on the door handle and ushered him inside the musty-smelling space. Eirlys indicated a door to his left and he held it open for her. A whiff of roses struck his senses as she passed to descend the staircase. Neither spoke as they circled lower and lower beneath the ground. After several minutes, and protestations from his thighs, the stairwell opened to a large room. Like in Midna’s crypt, several torches hung from iron clamps attached to the walls.

  Three marble slabs occupied the room, but only one was in use. Dorchmeir’s corpse lay as if sleeping, with his hands crossed at his chest, his legs splayed slightly. Eirlys grunted and approached. A man emerged from a side chamber, his bald head shining in the firelight.

  “My queen.” His bow was low, full of reverence.

  “Is he ready?” Eirlys didn’t look at the newcomer, but kept her focus firmly on Dorchmeir.

  “He is. Shall I begin?”

  Eirlys nodded and the man chanted similar words to what Midna’s necromancer had spoken not more than a few hours past. A chill swept down Therron’s back, same as it had in the Unseelie dungeons. This kind of magic was forbidden in the elven kingdom. The dead should stay dead, his father always said.

  In theory, Therron agreed, but they needed precious answers that only the dead could provide.

  A plume of black smoke rose from Dorchmeir’s lips and Eirlys hissed.

  “Ask your questions, but be quick. This one does not wish to depart. He has unfinished business and will attach himself to one of you if you linger overlong.” The necromancer bowed again and slipped into the antechamber.

  When the door clicked shut, Eirlys put her fingertips to the gash at Dorchmeir’s throat. An audible whine came from the dead man’s lips.

  “How do you wake the kidnapped fae?”

  “Don’t. Know.” Dorchmeir wheezed an answer.

  Even then, Therron could feel the man insinuating himself into Therron’s thoughts. An oily slickness crept up his arms with Dorchmeir’s attempt to grab hold of the elf’s living body.

  “Who is Max?” Therron stood on the opposite side of Eirlys. Her sharp intake of breath and quick glare told him she knew who the courier was.

  Gurgled chuckling was followed by a sneer. “She’s not worthy—”

  Eirlys pressed her finger into the wound Rori’s dagger made and Dorchmeir screamed. “Who is kidnapping fae and why?”

  The dead guard’s head twisted from side to side. “Don’t know and don’t care. As long as she is destroyed.”

  Therron didn’t need to ask who he meant. “Why did you hate Rori so much? Was this about revenge for you?”

&
nbsp; “Yesssssss. She’s not worthy.”

  “Why did you help Acelyne?” Eirlys pushed her whole hand against his throat and Therron felt her magic fill the room.

  Eirlys was pumping her magic into Dorchmeir to steal his thoughts. Not only was what the queen doing forbidden, it was punishable by death. Therron met her questioning glance and dipped his chin in a nod that acknowledged he would keep her secrets.

  But Eirlys didn’t just steal Dorchmeir’s thoughts—she somehow displayed them in the air for Therron to see, too.

  There, dancing like images in the picture books his mother used to read him and his brothers, were people and places Therron recognized as the Seelie Court. Faces whizzed in and out of focus until they came to Rori. Dorchmeir’s thoughts settled on her face and a strangled cry came from the dead man.

  A sequence of events followed. Their time at the Academy, where Rori bested him at everything. Even her popularity was seen as a competition. Then his time at the palace, where Eirlys gave him a job as a guard despite his less than stellar record at the Academy. Several images of Esme came and went, mostly with Dorchmeir manipulating the woman to learn Rori’s secrets, but Esme wasn’t much help. Either the girl truly didn’t know, or she was as skilled as Rori at keeping information hidden. A newfound respect blossomed for the girl.

  Finally, Dorchmeir’s thoughts roamed to Acelyne and their meetings. Eirlys and Therron watched as Acelyne convinced Dorchmeir he would be rewarded for his bravery. He truly didn’t know who wanted the amulets, or even what was in them. At first, he thought they were trinkets, but in time he began to suspect they were much more.

  Dorchmeir’s usefulness to Acelyne had been in his knowledge of the Seelie palace. It was through his information that the enchantress had been able to enter unseen and kidnap the princess. When Eirlys saw the memory, tears tracked down her cheeks. Therron reached out a comforting hand and placed it on her forearm.