Hunted: A fae fantasy romance (Fae Magic Book 1) Page 22

  Trina opened the bag and pulled out bright, silky dress after dress. Her mouth gaped open, and she struggled to think of something to say.

  Logan grinned. “You might try ‘thanks’. There are quite a few gowns in there. And some shoes. And those terrible denim things women wear now.” She pulled out bras, underwear, and shoes. Slippers, heels, and sneakers. She laughed hugging a pair of laced up midi-boots to her chest.

  He snorted a laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” His grin looked genuine, but she was sure something was up.

  “It’s nice to see you looking better...sparkling eyes, red cheeks.” He pinched her cheek and brushed her lips in a kiss. “You look like a little girl at a party.”

  “It feels like a birthday.” She discovered the coveted pair of jeans and whooped. “Who knew you would bring all this after doling things out like Scrooge.” She stopped, dropping the jeans into the pile of gifts. “Wait a minute. What happened last night?”

  “You don’t remember the old woman, the combs, or almost dying?”

  “No... Yes... I don’t know.” She struggled to think, her head aching as snippets of memory flashed through her brain. “I almost died?”

  “I was hoping you’d remember more this morning.” His smile faded, underneath his bright, shiny attitude, he looked tired. Logan pushed the clothes out of the way and sat beside her. “Is there anything you can tell me about yesterday?” He gently drew her hair back from her face.

  Trina searched his eyes for something to jar her memory. Some lovely gold jewelry, flashes of bright colors, and an evil laugh all blurred into a bad nightmare. “Maybe. It makes my head hurt.”

  “Someone gave you a gift.”

  She tried again. Stabbing pain ricocheted through her head. She rubbed her forehead. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “You said last night it was an old woman, but no one knows that you’re here, that you’re even alive, no one except myself and my uncles.” A dark foreboding look crossed his face. “And Mariella Boyd.”

  “I didn’t tell her where I was. How could she have found me? I don’t even know where we are.”

  “No, but she knows you’re alive, and that may be enough.”

  “It couldn’t have been Mariella. How could she have hidden her aura? She isn’t fae.”

  “She hid her aura?” He looked intently into her eyes. “You remember something.”

  An old woman. Suspicion. Something not right. And fear. “I remember she was old, and when I used my Gift to look closer... her aura wasn’t there.” Panic fisted in her chest. “She wasn’t there, Logan! What does that mean?”

  “It takes a lot of magic to hide an aura. How much fae blood does Mariella have in her clan? What are her talents? She must have some strong ones to be head of a clan. Or perhaps a powerful fae put a glamour on her, to hide her identity.”

  “Why would Mariella do this? She pledged her protection.”

  “I don’t know but you aren’t safe here anymore. If she tells the queen you’re alive....” He gripped her hard and she squeaked a protest. One by one he relaxed his fingers and let her go. He shook his head. “I can’t leave you here alone anymore, and if the queen’s involved it’s too dangerous to take you with me.”

  She didn’t remember much, but she knew she needed to go with him. This was her chance to finally do something. “You’re not thinking straight. I’d be safer with you.”

  “You’re too distracting. I missed that we were followed from the meet, I missed the wild boars, I missed that someone knows we’re here. This was supposed to be a safe haven and instead, here you were, penned up for the taking. How can I take you deeper into the lands of Faerie and keep you safe?”

  “How can you leave me here?”

  “If the person who tracked you here knows we’re together, then hunting with me isn’t safe.”

  She sighed. She wanted to go with him, but this was so much more than his desire to keep her away from the world. His need to keep her safe was a tangible thing, evident in every stroke of her hair and the squeeze of his arms.

  But was it right?

  He tucked a strand behind her ear. “Look at me, Trina. For both our safeties, we must find Aoife.”

  “I’m coming with you.” She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. “I’m feeling better.” She played her trump card. “And just look at what happened last time.”

  Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line but she held her ground staring into his eyes. Eyes that still captured her, but no longer hypnotized. Eyes of someone she thought she could dare to trust.

  “Stubborn, that’s what you are.” His lips softened into a smile. “All right, lass. You can come with me, but there will be rules.” He waggled a finger in her face. “And you must go in disguise, this time a better one. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  She snuggled into his side and closed her eyes as he held her close. She wished she could stay here and pretend everything was fine, but that wasn’t her life. It never had been. She was a fighter. And she would fight to keep her family safe, even if it meant taking on the queen herself.

  Or Logan.

  He stood up. “Hop in the bath and I’ll get breakfast while you try to remember the rest of what happened yesterday.”

  She crossed the room. “I remember being pissed at you.” She eased into the bath and leaned her head back, her aching muscles relaxing in the steamy lavender-scented water. “You left me here.”

  “Well, that’s not happening today.” He pulled out a frying pan. “Scrambled or fried?” She sensed tension under his attempt at breezy, casual conversation.

  She sat up. “Logan, what are you keeping from me? What the hell happened?”

  “Enjoy your bath, have some breakfast, and see if you remember,” he called from the stove. “If you don’t, I’ll fill you in on the way.”

  “Why are we packing?” She poured lemon verbena shampoo into her palm, the strong scent waking her up as she soaped her hair.

  “I can’t leave you here.” Logan broke eggs into the skillet. “And we won’t be coming back. I’ll be finding another place to tuck you away. Somewhere safer.”

  “But you are taking me with you to hunt for Aoife today. Right?” She waited for him to answer, lather dripping down the side of her face. “No tricks, no sneaking off and abandoning me somewhere else?”

  “No lass. Not today. Not unless you don’t get cracking and finish up.”

  “Why? Logan, I need to know.”

  Was it simply that she was in danger and he saw her as his property? Or did he see that she needed to go, needed to hunt Aoife for herself and find out why her family was in such danger.

  “Your eggs are almost ready.”

  “Is it because you see how important it is to me?”

  His shoulders sagged and his voice dropped so low she strained to hear him. “Danu spare me, but I’ve come to need you alive.” He placed the skillet on the table, crossed the room, and ran a light finger down the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know what to do with you, but I’ll be damned if I’ll leave you here and come back to find you gone, dead—or worse.”

  Trina’s heart thumped painfully in her chest. The energy of their auras swirled, brushing against each other, and merging their foggy edges. Deep under the water, she softened between her thighs.

  Logan’s eyes darkened into a deeper turquoise and he backed away. “Best put some clothes on or you’ll need to be thanking me a different way this morning, and we have little time for that.” He went to the door, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be outside. Eat your eggs.”

  Trina sank back into the water, untouched arousal simmering under her skin.

  She didn’t understand him. One moment he treated her like a pet, bringing her gifts and expecting her to jump at his word. He’d take her with him, but expect her to hide in disguise. And she knew, while he might be telling the truth that he had no immediate plan to leave her, the second he’d found a place he’d
abandon her again.

  She needed a partner. Someone who would let her fight for her family and her life. Someone who understood she was done with hiding. Done with running. Done with being a victim.

  How had she made this catastrophic mistake? How could she have fallen for a domineering, possessive fae who only wanted to tuck her away from the world? Someone who would never be able to see her as a person and couldn’t ever return her love.

  Somewhere, the Fates laughed up a storm.

  She rinsed her hair, got out of the tub, and dressed in the perfectly fitting jeans and a t-shirt. She ate fast. If he was going to take her with him, for whatever reason, she’d be ready.

  Fed, packed, and with the kitchen clean, she was ready to leave. At the door, she turned, a sudden lump in her throat.

  She hadn’t been here long, but the little cottage had started to feel like it could have been her place.

  “Thank you,” she said to the empty room. There was a warm rush of affection back and she left, her heart a tiny bit lighter.

  For the first time in a long time, leaving a house didn’t seem like she was leaving part of herself behind. This time, it seemed like maybe, she’d be back. And while leaving was sad, it was also full of promise.

  Outside, Logan waited with Solanum and the hounds. “Time for your disguise.” The tingle of glamour spread along her cheeks, down the skin of her neck, and all the way to her toes. “I don’t want anyone even thinking it might be you.”

  Solanum stomped a hoof. “Couldn’t you at least have kept her sexy? I don’t want people thinking that’s riding on me.” He curled his lip. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking she’s going into faery with us and no one needs to know she’s human, or attractive.Although,” he cocked his head, “there are things that would find you attractive in this guise.”

  “What did you do?” She stretched out gnarled grey hands, her fingers ending in narrow twigs.

  “You’re small enough that you can look like a dryath. Their skin resembles tree bark.”

  “I thought dryaths couldn’t leave their trees?”

  “That’s a dryad, and they can’t. This is a dryath, not as fun and sexy, but more threatening. Dryaths are small. They don’t come much over five feet, and they have extremely nasty tempers.” He stepped back, eyeing her critically.

  She touched her face, the scaly skin rough under her fingers.

  “Time to go.” He mounted and leaned down to give her a hand up behind him. As they rode out, Trina looked back at the cottage. She’d arrived here scared and angry, now she left in love with someone so flawed her heart was torn.

  “Are you ready for the portal?”

  The purple haze formed ahead. She swallowed and wished she’d skipped breakfast.

  “This will be an easier trip.”

  “How so?”

  “We’ll go slower, for one. Your body will have a chance to adjust. And we won’t go through more than one at a time. Last time, I took you through many more gates than you were aware of.”

  “And I’m dressed.”

  “That’s my witch.” He grinned at her over his shoulder. “Ready?”

  The dark purple maw loomed, and Trina’s stomach flipped. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  She swallowed, closed her eyes, and wrapped her arms around Logan, pressing her chest against his back as they rode into the mist. Focusing on his now familiar scent of wood smoke, she hummed to herself in an attempt to block out the wails and screams. Her stomach rose up, her head swam, and they cantered out of the portal.

  Solanum halted.

  Trina opened her eyes and attempted to focus her blurred vision on a broad sea of grass so tall she couldn’t see the dogs, just the swoosh of the stalks where they passed.

  “How are we going to look for her?” She scanned the miles of pale, green grass. “I don’t see anything here.”

  “What you can’t see is all the fae that make up this area. This is deep Underhill. Its physical makeup is unstable unless a conscious being holds it in place. For this area to be this solid there are many beings who believe it exists. More importantly, I can focus my Gift here more easily than in the forest. Here, the winds of magic blow and my Gift will find her scent.”

  Logan’s chest expanded as he inhaled, his muscles firming up under her hands. She held herself very still. A strange, haunting whistle of birdsong rose over the wind. This place almost scraped against her magic, not uncomfortably, but definitely a reminder that here, she was a stranger.

  He opened his Gift and she could sense the magic stirring within him. Moments passed, then minutes.

  “Aahh.” His magic retracted. “I have something. We need to go through a gate.” He turned Solanum, and there, where there had been nothing at all but grass, was a small circle of standing stones.

  “Where did that come from?”

  “It was there, didn’t you see it?”

  She shook her head.

  He shrugged. “Gates are like that sometimes.” They rode between two weathered, grey rock pillars and entered the circle. The grass here was shorter, thicker, as if it were from a different place altogether.

  Trina gasped.

  Each opening between the seven granite sentinels contained a different view, like pictures on a wall. The section they’d come through was filled the waving grass. One had a vibrant, blue sky and three low moons. Another, a dry, desolate plain.

  Logan chose a misty green world whose foggy tendrils crept through the gap, teasing the tops of the short grass. Trina held tight to his waist, afraid to let go, as they aimed rode through the gate and into the new world.

  Between the pillars, reality flexed. Trina reeled from the sudden shift, her recently settled stomach lurching and rising in her throat.

  “Easy.” Logan’s voice came out sounding strange, warped by the gate’s energies.

  Then they were through and the stench and humidity of a swamp hit her. It had been early morning in the field of grass, but here, it was much later in the day and the moist heat was stifling. Solanum’s muscles bunched under her thighs as he struggled to walk with the double weight through sucking mud.

  The smell was awful, a sulfuric mix of decay and heat that threatened to overwhelm her. She swallowed and breathed through her mouth to keep her stomach from rebelling.

  “Ugh!” she said, burying her face in Logan’s shoulder and taking small breaths.

  “You’ll get used to it. There are much worse worlds. Parts of Underhill are very bad.”

  Trina held on tight and watched the hounds pick and choose their footing carefully. She ducked as one slipped, splashing into the odorous water. They climbed up a low hillock, all the hounds pouring onto the small, dry space, happy tails waving as they pushed and shoved at each other and Solanum for space.

  “Watch it! I’m here, aren’t I?” Solanum cocked a threatening hoof and the hounds shifted out into a wider arc, a few splashing off the side into the sludge.

  Logan dismounted, stopping Trina when she started to slide down. “Solanum can shield you, but it’s best you stay on his back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “There’s something here. I’ll be better off tracking it without you.”

  “I don’t think...”

  Logan squeezed her thigh. “Don’t worry, I’ll come back.” Then he sloshed off into the mist.

  The great head in front of her angled back. “He’s left you to me, love,” Solanum said, rolling his eyes. “How long do you think he’ll be? Do you think we have time for a quick one?”

  Cold traced down her spine.

  “Piss off.” She got a good grip of his long mane in case he took offense but he only gave a low, wicked laugh and flicked his tail, killing a fly with deadly accuracy.

  Trina shivered, despite the heat. If Logan didn’t return soon, she’d get down and go after him. She’d brave swamp monsters, lizards, and stink just to be far from Solanum’s malevolence.

 
; Solanum switched his tail at another fly, stinging her leg through her jeans. “Sorry, love,” he sneered.

  She ignored him and his petty behavior, and rubbed at her calf. In the distance, something sloshed through the swamp, coming closer. Straightening up, she tightened her grip on the beast’s mane.

  “Tighten those thighs a little more, would you, love?”

  Trina opened her mouth to let the puca know what an ass he was, but he cut her off as Logan appeared at the base of the hillock, holding a small, kicking garden gnome by the ankle.

  “Stay quiet, love, and he won’t even notice you,” Solanum whispered.

  She pressed her lips together, but did as he said.

  “Aaarghh!” screamed the gnome. “Yer hurtin me, you big galumph! Why would ye be doin’ this?” The gnome was complete with a white beard and blue hat, but the foul language coming from his mouth didn’t fit the picture of a family ornament.

  “I’m not hurting you. Relax, and you’ll be fine. I simply require a bit of information from you.” Logan’s face seemed serious, but Trina recognized the glint of humor in his eyes. She doubted the gnome was paying attention as he thrashed and kicked like a prize bass. Logan dropped him on the side of the hillock and the gnome lurched up to his full, two-foot height. He clutched his little, blue hat and turned to run, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of the fence of silent, red hounds lined up with their teeth bared.

  “Information, hmm? You could have just asked.” The gnome huffed and settled his hat back on his head.

  “And would you have stayed to answer me?” Logan slapped his gloves on his thigh, looking more than a little frightening and exotic with his long hair pulled back off his face, clad in his black leathers, and surrounded by the red hounds, his face a hard, intent mask.

  “Well, I might have! Now we won’t ever know.”

  “Start with your name.”

  “I’m not givin’ ye that! What can ye be thinking?”

  “It’s a simple question. I caught you fair and square. By the laws of faery, you must answer me.”

  “Ye snuck up on me, and ye know it. I’ll not answer!” Hands on his hips, the gnome stood tall and attempted to look the towering elf in the eye. Logan pulled a golden bird cage from his pocket.