Hunted: A fae fantasy romance (Fae Magic Book 1) Page 8

  “She thinks you dead, so you should be safe. But...the queen’s not entirely predictable.” He moved around the room, fiddling with things, avoiding her eyes. “In fact, I believe she’s much worse than I remember.”

  “But she trusts you. She believes you.”

  “She doesn’t trust me, nor anyone, for that matter.” He stopped and faced her from across the room. “I think chasing you MacElvys is driving her insane.”

  Trina’s stomach knotted.

  She was completely at this man’s mercy. Would he keep her safe? Did he truly want to? What could possibly be in it for him to take such risks?

  “But she believed you.”

  Her question held him still. He stared out a grimy window, taking too long to answer.

  Anxiety swelled in her throat and poured out her mouth. “What are you hiding? What’s in this for you? Why haven’t you killed me?” She backed towards the open door and away from him, tripping over broken pieces of furniture in her haste.

  He was beside her in seconds, gripping her shoulders in a hard, bruising grip, forcing her to face him.

  “I’ve given you my word I will keep you safe. You may not trust me, but I want you to know—my word is good.”

  “That doesn’t answer my questions. You say your word is good, but it’s the word of an elf. You ask me to trust promises from the lips of my enemy.”

  “You may doubt me all you like, it’s in your eyes, witch. But it’s true, nevertheless. I keep my freely given word.”

  She struggled to not fall into the trap of his gaze. He could capture her mind with the wave of a hand, why should she trust him? How could she expect him to keep her alive when the queen only wanted her dead?

  Logan gazed into her eyes for far too long, seeming to want something that she had no idea how to give until she trembled with the urge to say whatever it was he wanted to hear.

  “Enough!” He released her shoulders and she stumbled back, nearly falling at the sudden freedom. He took something the size of a walnut from one of the pockets of his long leather coat and tossed it onto the wobbly kitchen table. “Here, I brought supplies. You’ll find food in there for dinner.”

  It was a tiny burlap sack, the size that would fit into a doll’s house. He tapped it three times and it swelled like a dried bean filling with water. Soon, it was the size of a small potato, and then a melon, and still it grew until it was a bulging potato sack that covered most of the small table.

  “What the...?”

  “It’s a giant’s bag. Stays small in your pocket, but carries and keeps a large amount of food.” His lips twisted in a wry grimace. “Call it a housewarming loan from my uncles.”

  Food at the touch of an elf. Her grandmother Estelle would be rolling in her grave.

  “I’m going to leave you here to start working on your end of our bargain, while I take the hounds and scout out the forest. Although this edge of the Forest technically belongs to my uncles, there are things that make it their home that we want no part of. I would know for sure we are safe before we go to sleep.” He strode for the open door.

  The pretzel in Trina’s stomach knotted tighter. “You’re leaving me? Here? Alone?” She kicked herself for the wobble in her voice. She needed to impress on him that she was tough, or he might feel he could take even more advantage.

  He smiled, and the condescension in it tightened her spine.

  “Aye lass, I have to leave you here. But don’t worry. The cottage is enchanted. As long as you stay in the clearing, you should be safe. Now, since you’re aware there’s so much to be done, you’d best get to work.” He took her shoulders, turned her around, and swatted her on the ass.

  She growled and bared her teeth.

  The grim set to his jaw relaxed and he laughed, the sparkling sound echoing off the wooden walls. “You’ll be fine. Seeing your fierce expression, I’m more afraid for the dirt’s safety than yours.” He left, still smiling.

  The door closed, leaving little but shadows in the gloomy interior. She glanced around, smoothing down her dress with suddenly nervous hands. She shouldn’t miss the elf, but now, for the first time, she was truly alone in this very strange place.

  She ran to a filthy window and watched him as he whistled, turned the beast and trotted through the hedge. The hounds coursed through after him and the green barrier sealed up, taking away his laughter, the hounds, and her last feelings of safety.

  Trina looked around the filthy room and the last of her optimism plunged down like an anchor. First day of her new job and it sucked already. Not that she had any options: a year of slavery to one of the queen’s men in the middle of a forest—or death.

  Not great choices. But there was one last option...

  Logan had kidnapped her and coerced her into this. She was sure she wasn’t actually bound to a contract made under duress.

  Picking up a corner of the limp curtain, she rubbed a clear spot in the old glass. It hadn't taken long to get here through the forest and the sun was still high in the sky. She could walk and get back to the cottage before sunset. The road there must lead somewhere—to a town, a village, a gas station. She’d made this bargain, she should stay and fulfill it, but she wasn’t going to. Her family needed her. If she couldn’t protect them by finding out how to fix the problem with the queen, she needed to be with them to fight off any assassins.

  The thought of walking all the way back through the forest on bare feet sent a deep shiver through her. This wasn’t her first choice, but it might be the only time she could get away. She had to try.

  She straightened up and headed outside.

  After making a full circle of the clearing, she admitted defeat. She’d looked high and low for the space they’d ridden into and Logan had ridden out of just moments before. Every foot of the wild hedge had been examined.

  No joy.

  The thick wall of leaves and twigs had seemed wide open when they’d ridden in, just a simple turning and they’d been in. Now there was no path visible anywhere. She walked until she’d circled all the way around a second time and still, she couldn’t locate it. In fact,the more she tried to push through, the hedge tighter and thicker the hedge became, developing sharp inch-long thorns that left her bleeding. She was trapped.

  And now, she was pissed.

  The arrogance of the man! He thought he’d outsmarted her, locked her in with no way out. But what he didn’t know was—this was her strength. She was a green witch. Hedges, even bespelled hedges, should respond to her call.

  Trina hesitated before planting her feet firmly in the dirt. The thought that she should do a protective circle crossed her mind. She hadn’t done one in the forest, with dire consequences. Did she have time now? Did she dare skip one?

  Logan could be back at any moment. She needed a head start.

  The butterflies in her stomach doing cartwheels, she decided to take the risk, but before trying anything, she’d better check the area first. Better to be safe. She opened her inner sight and the clearing and the hedge sprang into supernatural color. They both had the typical green glow of natural live growth, but with a fresh tint of turquoise blue covering the hedge. Trina pressed her lips together.

  Logan. It had to be his work.

  There was something else, something older, woven so tightly into the land’s natural magics it had become almost one with it. She didn’t have time to fool with it now and didn’t think she needed to. It was old magic, designed to keep the forest out, not to keep anyone restrained within. It shouldn’t be a problem.

  Her head still ached from earlier. And she was scared. What if that presence was here? She shook herself. She didn’t have a choice. This might be her only opportunity for escape.

  She stilled her mind and planted her feet, trying to quell the worry. Wiggling her toes in the dirt, she opened herself up.

  Soft green power flowed in and she sighed, relaxing. This was more like it. The clearing’s energy flowed only where she invited it, melding with her own
Gift and giving her ample power to construct a spell. She directed the combined magic at the hedge, sending a questing tendril to find the hidden entrance.

  The reluctant thorns and leaves quivered and withdrew, creating a passage into the forest.

  Now that was more like it. Fresh with confidence, Trina entered the gap. Pausing in the middle of the hedge’s protective thorns with the sun from the clearing warming her back, she breathed a silent thank you, and let the other power drain back into the ground. From the safety of the hedge she peered into the dark brooding trees.

  There was the path, waiting for her to take an unguarded step.

  Trina swallowed. It was now or never.

  She stepped out of the clearing, leaving the safety of the hedge. The warm sun on her back disappeared as her bare feet touched the soft mulch of the forest floor. Instantly, the aggressive power was there, pushing against her skin, demanding to get inside.

  The hairs on her arms rose.

  If this hungry power took her over a second time, without Logan’s help, she wasn’t sure she could get it to let her go.

  Her legs were weak and shaking. All she wanted was to run back to the dirty cottage and hide, safe within the thorny hedge.

  But, she couldn’t do that—her family depended on her.

  Fighting the hungry power down, she took a deep breath. And one single step. Sweat gathered under her arms as the pressure on her skin grew.

  She lifted her foot to take one more step, one more bid for freedom. The power surged, pushing against her skin, demanding she surrender and give it ultimate control.

  Chapter Ten

  She couldn’t do it.

  Trina stumbled back into the safety of the warm, sunny clearing. As soon as she passed the hedge, the insidious pressure cut off. She wrapped her arms around her body and tried to stop the shaking.

  The opening in the hedge sealed closed behind her as if it had never been, and she sank to the grass in exhausted frustration.

  Everything was okay. She was safe. That should be a good thing. But it wasn’t, because she was still trapped.

  Slowly the shaking eased off and her breathing grew regular.

  This hadn’t been a complete success, but it also hadn’t been a failure. She’d opened the hedge. That was a start. But she had to face facts. She was stuck here, so she’d better quit wasting time and figure out another plan. Or else she’d be stuck cleaning for the elf and dealing with his arrogance for the next year. It was almost enough to send her back out into the forest.

  Almost.

  She got to her feet, dusted the dirt off her knees, and began to explore. Behind the cottage, she discovered a spot where the grass looked as if someone had mowed it into a perfect circle. A flat rock sat in the center and four smaller ones were set at the cardinal points. Someone, years ago, had planted this. They’d planned and dreamed and created a ritual area, perfect for a single witch.

  Trina perched on the center rock, closed her eyes, and drew deep within to center. She needed to know if the clearing was as benign as it seemed, if there was anything she could use to escape. It might not be today, but there would be an opportunity to go. And when that time came, she would be ready.

  This time, she erected proper wards. She cast her senses out and explored her surroundings using small, tentative wisps of power.

  Nothing negative in the clearing. No indications that boggarts, pixies, or any magical creatures were hidden in it or the cottage. Not what she’d expected for a magical forest. But there was something here, something that teased the edges of her magic with a whisper of a presence. Traces of the old, underlying power she’d sensed when she first entered the clearing. It didn’t feel hungry, like the forest, more sad and lonely. Taking a deep breath, she settled deeper into her trance.

  Extending a root-like tendril of her Gift deep within the earth, she encountered a small surprise. One of the ley lines of energy that crisscrossed the earth like a network of rivers had been wrought into a small pool in order to feed spells set in place hundreds of years before. The spells had been running on auto-pilot, drawing energy from the node that kept them alive.

  Spells that kept the well water sweet, the magical hedge in place, the good in and bad out. Spells that should have kept the buildings up but must be weakening because the old wood showed signs of age and rot.

  Trina traced along the benign spells feeding off the pool. Allowed to run unhindered, the spells had developed a strong, unified personality that communicated, in broad pulses of vibrant color, their excitement at having someone here to help them maintain the cottage and, in return: they promised to take care of her.

  She settled back and pushed on one of the spells. It pushed back, with an exuberant puppyish energy. Trina jumped in surprise, lost her balance, and fell off the rock, landing hard on the grass and knocking her out of working mode. She caught her breath and stood up, wiggling her toes in the bright, green grass. The sun seemed brighter, the grass greener, and the air fresher. Her headache and muscle aches were gone and exhilaration sang in her blood.

  She smiled. Right here, under her feet, she had a willing source of power. At last, something was going right.

  Enough messing around. It was time to get to work and earn her keep before the elf changed his mind and turned her over to the queen. Or decided to kill her.

  LOGAN RODE OUT OF THE darkness of a forest night and into a pool of warm light spilling out of the cottage windows. He took it as a sign that all was well. Tension he hadn’t even been aware of left him in a rush, leaving his bones weak.

  “That was a waste of time.” Solanum lifted his head and sniffed the air, widening his nostrils much larger than Logan wanted to see. “I hope the witch has something good on the stove.”

  “Solanum, you are not invited for dinner.” Logan dismounted, releasing all but two of the hounds to melt off into the dark to hunt for their suppers. He’d secured a perimeter, but given the forest’s perilous nature, security was uncertain.

  “What do you mean, I’m not invited for dinner? I’ll put on the form of a handsome young laddie.” Solanum waggled his pointed ears. “She won’t even know it’s me.”

  “No.”

  “Afraid I’ll steal her from you?”

  Logan stilled the quiver of jealousy. If the puca saw it, there was no doubt he would find it a challenge. “You can’t bait me into inviting you in. I want to be alone with the witch.” He rolled his shoulders and stretched. “She’s trying to hide it, but I know the look of a lass who’s hungry for me.” And he was hungry for her. Her secretive eyes, soft skin, and the sensual swing of her hips set him afire.

  “Hungry for a man—not you in particular. I’d do.” The puca posed, curving his muscles into tight bunches, the light gleaming off of his black satin hide. “They all want me when they see me. She’d be no different.”

  “She’s mine.” Logan savored the strange taste of the word mine on his tongue, the surprising satisfaction, and the fast following rush of fear.

  “So fuck her and dump her. We have other things to do.”

  “I need her. The queen is hiding something and the witch is the key. If I raped her, what the hell kind of cooperation do you think I’d get from her?” He shook his head at the puca and his idea of morality and slapped Solanum on the rump. “Off with you, I have a witch to seduce.”

  “Spoiler.” The puca pulled his horse face into a caricature of a pout. “I’ll have to hunt for my dinner like the hounds. You should provide better for me, you know.”

  He swished his tail and shifted into the form of a huge wolfhound, double the size of Logan’s large red hounds. The remaining two hounds pressed against Logan’s leg, their whines sounding in his head.

  “Some home you’ve brought her to. You’d better watch your back or I’ll be taking her off your hands.” The wolfhound’s red eyes gleamed. “She’d provide a nice bit of amusement before she wore out.” He raced off, his howl of laughter echoing in the dark.

&
nbsp; Logan frowned. If Solanum became intrigued by the idea of seducing the witch, Logan would have more to deal with than just losing a good lay. He knew when he saw her, the witch held the key to his freedom from the queen. Nothing would stand in the way of his putting her to good use.

  He put the problem of the puca aside and approached the worn out cottage, his cock growing hard with anticipation of seeing the woman inside. The hiebernieth had held his needs at bay, but he’d been in the dungeons a while before the oubliette. He tried to remember back to the last woman he’d fucked. Some party with the prince, before the fiasco at court had taken them all down.

  The first step sagged under his weight. He should have known from his uncle’s snickering that the cottage would have problems. But beggar that he was, he’d no other place to take her. At least, not one where he was assured he wouldn’t be killed by the queen’s men while taking his pleasures.

  And there was no way he would stay with his womanizing uncles. Seven good-looking, lonely, isolated men who hadn’t kidnapped her, threatened to kill her, and turn her over to the queen. She’d flee to one of them in a heartbeat, and he’d be out his prize. No hold over the queen, nothing to offer his liege, and no woman to warm his bed.

  The odd fierce possessiveness uncoiled, manifesting in a driving need to be inside of Trina. To taste her lips. To have her naked and willing and thrusting under him, begging for more.

  His fists balled. He wasn’t sharing his prize. Out here, falling down cottage or not, she would be his and his alone. Screw Solanum and his uncles. He deserved a few moments of pleasure.

  Logan exhaled, struggling to calm his lust. Hand on the corroded brass latch, he stared at the sliver of new moon in the sky. Someday, he’d be able to relax, maybe keep a woman for longer than a few days. Someday, when Prince Kian was safe and the queen somehow had forgotten Logan’s existence.

  That wasn’t tonight.

  Tonight he had a witch to seduce. What he’d told the puca was true. She wanted him. He knew it. She simply hated him, too.

  He sighed, lifted the latch, and stepped into the cottage. The smell of dinner struck a sudden sharpness in his belly and he stared in amazement. The formerly abandoned room was warm with lantern light. Dust and dirt were gone. Dirty covers had been removed from the couch. The brass bed stood tall in the corner, made up with new sheets, and he swore he could smell the fresh scent of lavender from the door.