Hunted: A fae fantasy romance (Fae Magic Book 1) Page 24

  “She’s a beauty, man.” Stephan said. “Or she would be, if she wasn’t so beat up. You should take better care of your women.”

  Logan’s jealousy rose. “I thought you had my back.”

  Stephan laughed. “Relax, I’ve got you.” His grin faded at Logan’s expression. “Hey, I’ll keep her safe. And I promise I won’t touch her.” He shook his head at Logan. “Why would she even want me if she’s got you?”

  Logan looked down at the sleeping witch. His heart squeezed in his chest. He had no one left to trust except Stephan.

  “She’ll hate me when she wakes, but I have no choice.”

  Stephan rose. “I’ve got a spare room in the back.”

  Logan shifted Trina’s head. She woke up, her sleepy, green cat’s eyes peeking out from under her thick, black lashes.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m carrying you to bed.” He scooped her into his arms.

  “Oh, that’s nice.”

  She weighed next to nothing as he carried her into the guest room, laid her in the bed, and pulled the covers to her chin.

  He pressed a chaste kiss on her brow. “Sleep well, my witch. I’ll be back soon.”

  “You said you wouldn’t leave me again.” She sat all the way up.

  “Lass, I’ll do better on my own.” His stomach knotted and he backed away, avoiding the recrimination in her eyes, even though he knew he fully deserved it.

  “You arrogant, son-of-a-bitch fae jerk! You haven’t even given me a chance to help you.”

  Logan heard Stephan’s snort, could feel the man’s amusement burning into his back from the hallway. His ears heated. “Trina, I tried.”

  “I’m not letting you leave this time.” She tumbled to the floor in her haste to rise from the bed, her feet tangling in the covers. “You can’t make decisions for me.”

  “Of course I can. You’re mine, who else would make these decisions for you?”

  “Jerk!” He was lucky she was merely a witch because if she’d been something else, the glare she sent his way would have killed him.

  “I’m protecting you. I’ve found a safe place for you to stay. Stephan will protect you with his life.”

  “Protect me? I’m supposed to go with you. I refuse to have you leave me here while you go off and play knight errant. I’m not a princess in a castle. I’m a witch with powers of my own, and this is my fight.” She struggled to stand, her feet still tangled in the sheets.

  “Tell her why she can’t go against the queen.” He turned to Stephan.

  “Don’t pull him into this!”

  “I’m staying out of it.” Stephan held his hands out, palms up. “This is none of my business.”

  Logan realized he couldn’t win with words. He wished he could make her understand, make her realize that he only had her best interests at heart. He’d tried to include her, but she wasn’t fae. And he wasn’t going to lose her, not when she now held so much of his heart. “I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it. I can’t risk you.” He backed up to the door.

  “I’m not yours to risk.” Trina won free of the sheets and started across the room.

  He grabbed the bedroom doorknob. “Just stay in the house and you’ll be fine.”

  “Wait just a fucking minute!”

  Logan closed the door, holding tight to the knob as Trina yanked the door hard, shaking it in its frame.

  “I’m not staying here!” Her angry voice came loud and clear through the solid wood.

  “Do you have anything to lock this?”

  Stephan’s eyebrows rose. “What the hell, man? Do you think I lock women in my bedroom all the time?”

  “Let me out of here, you controlling, fae jerk!”

  He looked around for something—anything—to brace the door.

  “Here, try this.” Stephan handed him a rope fashioned into a slip knot. Logan laced it over the knob and ran it over to the handle of the next door, tying it tight, then adding a bit of a binding spell for good measure.

  The pounding and shrieking on the other side increased.

  “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. Can you watch her?”

  “Yeah, I’ll watch her.” They walked to the front door. “How long?”

  “I don’t know. We’re running out of places to hide. You need to know.... The queen—”

  “Hey,” Stephan cut him off. “That she-bitch won’t think to look here. I’m less than dirt under her shoe. Why would you seek shelter with a half-breed loser?”

  Logan shook his head. “You’re no more of a loser than I am, Stephan. Both of us half-breeds in the eyes of the Tuathan. She might remember the connection, or someone else might.” He opened the door and stepped outside, wincing at the things Trina was yelling at him. “I owe you.”

  “No, you don’t.” Stephan made a fist and tapped him on the shoulder. “I haven’t forgotten my debt. I owe you way more than this. You’d better get out of here before your woman realizes there’s a window, or it’ll be worse than the queen.”

  Logan turned back. “Sorry, man. She’s not going to be happy when you release her, and she’s got quite the temper.”

  “Get out.” Stephan pushed him the rest of the way out the door. “I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry.”

  Logan waited for the bolt to be shot home before he called Solanum and the hounds and rode off into the night.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Trina sank onto Stephan’s couch and stared out at the cloudy morning. Depression weighed her limbs down so heavy she didn’t think she would be getting back up. “He’s been gone a long time. Did he say when he’s coming back?”

  “I don’t know. Would you like some breakfast? Bachelor fare, eggs on toast.”

  “I can’t blame him. I failed yesterday. I couldn’t keep up, couldn’t defend myself, couldn’t fight...”

  “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. He’s not just any fae.” Did you expect to be able to keep up with an elvatian lord on a puca?” Stephan sat next to her. She wondered if he’d ever smiled in his life, his face was so serious.

  “I’m a witch. I should be able to do something.” Once again, she had to depend on Logan to find her answers. Trust a man whom she knew she couldn’t trust.

  “Take it from me. You don’t have enough magic to go through portals like he does. I’m half elvatian and they still bite like a motherfucker.”

  “But you can go through them without curling up and dying?”

  “Yeah. Fifty percent fae, remember? But you’re only what, five percent? Maybe less? How do you expect to defend yourself with magic when it takes you time to build up a spell? How do you expect to compete with a full elvatian lord, go through portals time after time, and not have it drain you?”

  “I don’t.” Trina sank back into the sofa. “I can’t.”

  It was over. She’d lost. She could be nothing more than Logan’s pet, his slave. No true relationship could ever be built on that.

  She curled up into a ball of self-loathing. “You’re right. I can’t compete with him. I have no chance of earning his respect.” Or his love.

  “I didn’t say that.” Stephan took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, pity gets you nowhere.” He led her into the kitchen and pushed her into a chair at the table. “I’m fixing you eggs. You’ll feel better after you eat.” He moved efficiently around the small kitchen, scrambling eggs and burning toast.

  Stephan set their plates on the table and began shoveling in the food. “Look, Trina,” he said between bites. “You can’t hope to equal Logan with magic, especially the type of magic that’s used in battle. Why do you want to try?”

  She pushed her eggs around on her plate. How could this stranger understand her need to have Logan love her, see her as a person and not a possession?

  “Witch magic is slow,” he said. “It builds with the help of words and tools. It’s like building a house. You need a foundation before you can build a wall. So, you can’t just throw up a
building at the drop of a hat. That doesn’t mean your house isn’t a good one.”

  He put his fork on his empty plate and watched her play with her food. He sighed. “Trina, your magic is strong. Logan knows that. He didn’t leave you here because you’re weak. He left you here because you can’t travel through the portals.”

  “And I can’t get my spells together fast enough when attacked.”

  “So?”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Build a house.” When she blinked at him, he shook his head, his hands flying up in exasperation. “Build a fucking arsenal. Create spells when you have time and use them when you need to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Christ.” He began clearing plates. “No one ever told you this, did they?” He waited for her response. “Okay, you’re a green witch, right?” She nodded. “Use vines to create snares, or brew toxic grenades out of plants. You’re the witch.” He wiggled his fingers in her face. “Use your green fingers to defend yourself.”

  “But all that takes time. I couldn’t even break a spell on a hedge.”

  “Let me guess. You were trying to break Logan’s spell, not cast your own, right?”

  Understanding dawned. “You think if I’d used my talent to try something on my own, I could have circumvented Logan’s spell instead of breaking it?”

  “Now you’re thinking like a witch.” The window rattled. A harsh wind had come up and a cloud of dust swirled out in the ranch yard. Stephan frowned at the window, then looked back at Trina. “Would you try to be as physically strong as a human male?”

  “Of course not.”

  “But, would you partner with a human male, who was physically stronger than you?”

  “Yes, but...”

  “Then why don’t you think you can partner with a man who is magically stronger than you? Give him some slack.”

  A hard gust shook the house. Outside, the old ranch house the sky had turned dark.

  Stephan stood up. “Stay inside. This wind looks like it’s going to be rough. I need to make sure everything is secured.” He put on a denim jacket. “I have some sheep about to lamb in the near pasture. I won’t be long.” He grappled with the door. The wind howled and pushed it back into the wall with a hard slam. “Stay put. Logan will have my hide if anything happens to you.” He wrestled the door shut and left her alone while the sky turned a sickly shade of yellow and the wind began to shriek.

  THE RING OF MONOLITHIC stones Logan and Solanum were about to enter was close to the border of the Hinterlands, an area of Underhill where one could easily get lost. An area where one unwary thought would create monsters out of mist. An unpredictable and dangerous place, but this was where his day’s search for Aoife had finally come.

  The hounds checked out the land around the exterior of the ring and down the side of the open hill.

  He was resolved. There would be no repeat of the episode of the morning, no surprise attacks. He moved with caution, checking on Solanum, in horse form, guarding the stones at the top of the rise. Logan struggled to keep the concerns and worries flooding his mind at bay, and instead, focus on the treacherous landscape of faery.

  What possessed him to venture into somewhere trouble lurked? The answer came to him in the form of Trina, her soft thighs and breasts. The throaty sounds she made when they had sex. The worry in her green eyes.

  Fears for Trina crept into his thoughts like goblins creeping into a baby’s room. Fear of the queen attacking her while she stayed with Stephan. Fear that she would never forgive him for sneaking off and leaving her. Fear that he would never make it back to kiss away her anger.

  And then there was the fear of leaving her with another man.

  He trusted Stephan. Maybe. The man had his back, but jealousy still niggled at the back of Logan’s mind. The jealousy that said Trina was with him because he was her only choice. Give her a different one, and she’d be gone.

  His latest informant had indicated this particular ring of stones would take him where Aoife lived. It would save him the energy of opening up a portal and he’d been in and out of portals all day, trying to find some trace of her. Now, he had solid information, but the day’s travel had taken its toll. He was tired and all he wanted to do was go home to Trina. Even an angry Trina. He forced himself to empty his mind of everything but the stones ahead so he wouldn’t inadvertently create anything out of the mists creeping up the hill.

  Once within the circle, he would have no need to worry about such tight mind control. Inside the ring, the elder magic provided safety. A glowing smear of power clinging to the stones told him that this ring had been recently used. Perhaps the elusive Aoife herself.

  Adrenaline and danger pulsed through his bloodstream. He was close. He knew it. He could feel it in his bones.

  Logan finished checking the base of the hill and began the climb back up to the stones, his mind wandering, wondering what Trina was doing now. Probably be taking advantage of the running water at Stephan’s and bathing in the hot water, the wet, hot steam making her face shine, beading into rivulets of water running down her chest. Her hair piled up, tendrils coming loose, getting water on her shoulders. A hard push in his side knocked him off balance.

  “What the ...”

  “Get your head on straight!” Solanum’s red eyes lit with anger.

  Just down the hill from Logan, three cloudy female figures had formed from the mist. Beguiling hands reached out from the soft sensual shapes, water running down their naked, foggy breasts.

  “Sorry.” He let a bitter laugh escape. “I’ll get focused on the hunt.” He shook himself free of his fantasies and Trina, and the female shapes dissolved back into the mist they’d formed from.

  “You’d better, or who knows what you’ll conjure up.” Solanum snorted. “Women! Now you know why they’re best used, then forgotten. You’re going into enemy territory and you have your noggin full of her tits and ass. Not very bright, are you? The Golden King won’t hesitate to kill you. Maybe I should just let him.”

  “Hardly a threat since you face worse than the king if you fail in your pledge to me.”

  “Worse than thousands of years stuck with the imbeciles in your family?” Solanum laughed. “I may take the alternative. Now, let’s get this over with. I’ve skipped more meals since you returned from the dungeons than I missed in the fifteen years you were gone. I might not want you dead, but the dungeons are beginning to seem like a good alternative.”

  Logan mounted and they rode up the hill into the stone ring, triggering the gate. They exited into an old, established area of Underhill. Down the curving lanes, hidden in the lush green hills, were the country estates of the fae who attended Oberon at his lavish court.

  Logan’s nostrils flared and his heartbeat increased as his Gift pulled him through the early morning fog to a low stone wall surrounding a charming French chalet. The wrought-iron gate was wide open. His neck itched, all his instincts warning of a trap.

  Gates like that one should be closed and locked, the iron keeping trouble out and peace in. He was expected.

  “Well, isn’t this a pretty picture,” Solanum said, the skin on his flanks tightening and flinching as they passed through the iron gates. The extensive gardens beyond the wall were the image of a French country estate, complete with statues and bizarre topiaries lining the long drive to the courtyard in front of the house. Flower faeries, from unimaginably tiny to the size of small children, zipped to and fro, playing and feasting on their favorite flowers, bathing in the large central fountain, and playing tag on the lawn.

  A short Rubinesque fae laughed. “Hey, big boy. Come play.” She winked and rolled her eyes at Logan as he dismounted.

  Solanum bit into of the nearest of the fawn-shaped topiaries, ripping off half of its leafy green head. “Yeah, why don’t you go play, big boy?” He snorted at Logan, leaves dangling from his lips. “Just because their brains are the size of a walnut doesn’t mean they aren’t fun.” He swatted hi
s tail at the buzzing fae fluttering around his flanks, and they fled back to the safety of the fountain.

  “Behave, or I’ll make sure you can’t destroy the foliage.” Logan shooed the amorous fae away and headed for the imposing double-door entrance. At his knock, the doors swung open.

  Blood pounded in his ears and everything in him tensed. This was it. The end of the hunt.

  He fought the giddy surge that came with success, he wasn’t there yet. There was no way he’d waltz in here without any challenges. He extended his senses to feel for traps and snares, surprised when he found none.

  It put his back up. Just because he didn’t sense a trap, didn’t mean he wasn’t walking into one. Aoife was old and powerful. No one survived both the Gold and Black Courts without canny skills. He had to have the same.

  A melodious voice called out, “Come in, Logan Ni Brennen.”

  He peered into the wide entry hall. Once again, someone called his name. His adrenaline surged as the near success of his hunt turned into the overwhelming instinct to run.

  Logan gritted his teeth.

  Solanum was right. Women were better left alone. But now, Trina’s hunt had become his own. No matter what happened, he wasn’t turning back. Cursing women, he pulled Singer out and stepped all the way into the house, not even turning when the doors swung quietly shut behind him.

  Following the invitation to the back of the house, he entered a modern, spacious living room. There, he found Aoife seated on a low, white couch and dressed in a casual track suit. Her stylish bob of white hair and tiny lines around her deep blue eyes were a surprise. He’d had the impression from his informants she was a slender, tall fae with long blonde hair. She’d cast a glamour to look older. Why?

  “Welcome Huntsman, I’ve been expecting you.” She gestured to the low couch opposite. “Put that silly sword away and sit down.” An elegant silver teapot with service for two was on the table between the couches.