Embraced in Darkness
by
Jenna Black
Chapter 1
Hunter pulled his leather coat tightly closed and
surreptitiously tucked his hands under his armpits. The breeze
held a sharp November bite, and he had enough mortal blood in
him to feel the cold keenly. He wished his mother had waited for
spring to engage in this latest round of Court intrigue.
He slanted a glance in her direction. She was sitting beside
him on the bench in Rittenhouse Square, looking serene and regal
and not the least bit cold. The heavy mink coat that draped her
body was for effect only. She must have felt his eyes on her, for
she turned her head his direction.
Hunter abruptly looked away. No one, not even her son,
wished to be the recipient of the full attention of the Queen of Air
and Darkness.
“Are you growing impatient, my son?” she asked.
Her voice had a brittle, unsettling edge to it, and it chilled
him more than the cold air. But showing fear in front of her was
like waving a bloody steak before a wolf, so he stretched out his
legs, crossing them at the ankles, and tried to look bored. “We’ve
been out here almost an hour,” he said, not looking at her. “When
is this little morsel going to make an appearance?”
“Sooner than you think.”
Hunter sat up abruptly and turned to see his mother smiling
at someone in the distance. It was the same smile she wore when
she ordered a particularly gruesome execution, and he felt an
instant of pity for the recipient of that smile. Then, he followed
her gaze.
His eyes were drawn instantly to the woman who held his
mother’s attention. “Is that her?” he asked. Out of the corner of
his eye, he saw the Queen nod. He pulled the brim of his hat
down so that he could regard the target more closely without
being seen.
His first impression was that she was rather unprepossessing.
She was wearing an ill-fitted padded coat that hid any shape she
might have had, and her cheeks were apple red from the cold.
Her jeans were threadbare, but not in a fashionable way, more in
an about-to-fall-apart way. Frizzy red curls peeked out from
under an ugly knit hat pulled down all the way to her ears, and a
mismatched knit scarf was wrapped around her throat. Warm she
might be, but he wondered if she’d ever seen herself in the mirror
in that get-up.
She must have inherited more than her fair share of her
mother’s genes, Hunter decided. He couldn’t discern even a
passing resemblance to Finvarra, the High King of the Daoine
Sidhe. He cocked his head at his mother. “Are you certain she’s
Finvarra’s get?” he asked.
The Queen smiled savagely. “Quite certain, my son. From
what I’ve heard, he was staggering drunk the night he sired her.
I suspect he never even noticed her mother’s face, being entirely
absorbed with her . . . other charms.”
Hunter made a face at the thought. On a number of occasions
after a successful hunt, he’d celebrated by visiting bars in the
mortal world. He’d gotten pretty drunk a number of times, but
never so drunk that he would accidentally bed someone ugly. The
target—Kiera Malone—sat down on a bench only a few yards
away, pulling a book from the pocket of her coat.
“The woman must be mad,” he muttered under his breath.
No one in her right mind would sit out in this cold just to read.
His own feet felt like lumps of ice in his heavy boots, and he
suspected his lips were an unappealing shade of blue.
“Well?” the Queen prompted.
Hunter shrugged. “Ordinarily I wouldn’t give her a second
glance,” he said with a faint curl of his lip. “But I doubt bedding
her will be overly unpleasant.”
The Queen snorted. “I was not enquiring about your
enthusiasm for your mission. I was asking if you thought you
could manage it.”
Hunter sat up straight and turned a glare on her, hating that
she knew so easily how to goad him. “Of course I can manage
it!” he snapped. “She’s homely enough that she’ll be panting like
a dog the moment I turn on the charm.” He had yet to meet a
mortal woman he couldn’t seduce. The slump of this one’s
shoulders, and a certain pinched look about her eyes, suggested
a loneliness he could easily exploit.
The Queen’s eyes glittered dangerously at his tone of voice,
and Hunter tensed. That glitter usually preceded a particularly
painful disciplinary action. But he was so used to her discipline
that he was almost inured to it. Almost.
“I will have difficulty performing my duties if I am in pain,”
he told her in a mild, bland voice that sounded much calmer than
he actually was. Only a fool would be calm when the Queen of
Air and Darkness was angry with him.
Her cold, beautiful face broke into a smile that did nothing
to warm her aspect. “Why, Hunter, dear, what makes you think
I would hurt you?”
His insides twisted at the malevolence of her gaze. Being her
son offered no protection, although other members of the
Unseelie Court grumbled about perceived privileges. Hunter had
known from the time he was a little boy that she would not
hesitate to execute him—slowly and painfully—if he ever
displeased her. Just as she had executed his father when the
foolish mortal had tried to take Hunter away from the Unseelie
Court.
It took all Hunter’s effort to keep his hatred from showing on
his face. No matter what he said or did, she would undoubtedly
keep him alive and relatively unharmed until he had done her
wishes and fathered a child on Finvarra’s bastard daughter. But
he rather hoped to be kept alive afterward as well. So he fought
the hatred that roiled within him, fought to keep his expression
bland and thereby soothe her ire.
The Queen reached out and touched his cheek with her bare
hand. He knew better than to pull away, no matter how much the
touch of her hand made his skin crawl.
“My beautiful son,” she murmured, with something that
could almost be taken for affection if he didn’t know better. “You
will have Finvarra’s bastard flat on her back in no time, I’m sure
of it.”
He nodded in tacit agreement, using the gesture to free
himself from her touch. He raised his eyes for a moment to
glance once more at the target.
She was looking right at him, and he froze like a rabbit.
There was something odd about her gaze, something strangely
knowing. His pulse quickened and he found himself unable to
look away. Had he doubted for a moment that Faerie blood
flowed in her veins, the otherworldly look in her eyes quelled
that doubt. Then she blinked and turned away, frowning, and she
looked once more like the mortal woman she was.
“Let us prepare you for the attack,” the Queen said, rising
gracefully from the bench.
Two goblins, clothed in Faerie glamour that made them look
like street-dwelling mortals, rose from nearby benches, darting
suspicious glances around the square as if assassins might be
lurking behind any tree. When the Queen strode purposefully
toward the apartment building where Kiera lived, Hunter hurried
to follow, the goblins falling into step behind them. They were
the Queen’s bodyguard, but Hunter couldn’t help feeling like
they were in equal part his own jailors, keeping him trapped in
his mother’s company when his soul screamed for release.
Kiera tried to focus her attention back on her book, but her
eyes kept straying. The man who had caught her eye stood on the
border of the square, waiting to cross the street. She could see
only his back now, but his image was still clear in her mind’s
eye: dark blue eyes that looked sad and haunted, pale skin that
should have reddened in the cold but didn’t, hair so dark it
blended with the black leather of his coat so she couldn’t tell
where one ended and the other began.
He was crossing the street now, walking just behind a tall,
elegant woman wearing a full-length mink coat. Kiera was
surprised no one had egged her yet. But she remembered the
woman’s face too, remembered the beauty of those patrician
features, and the aura of power that radiated from her. When
Kiera tried to imagine someone tossing an egg on that
monstrosity of a coat, her mind rebelled and she actually
shivered.
What an odd reaction, she thought. When she noticed the
pair of them entering the lobby of her apartment building, she felt
even more uneasy. Wondering at herself, Kiera dog-eared her
page and stuck the book back in her coat pocket.
Being self-employed and working from her home, it was too
easy to turn into a recluse, so she forced herself to venture out at
least once a day. Today, she had crossed to a coffee shop on the
other side of the square, sitting in a plush couch sipping espresso
and reading her book until she’d felt suddenly antsy. Not sure
whether that was just the effect of too much espresso, she’d
thought to sit out in the cold air for a while to refresh her mind.
Now, she didn’t know what to do. It was colder out than
she’d realized, and she very much wanted to go inside. Besides,
she had work to do today. But for reasons she didn’t want to
examine too closely, she didn’t want to go into her building while
the woman in the mink coat was in there. She licked her chapped
lips, wondering if her body could take another espresso. Maybe
a decaf. But then the woman in the mink coat emerged from
Kiera’s building, striding off toward Walnut Street. She seemed
to have attracted the attention of a couple of street bums, who
followed about five yards behind. Kiera didn’t imagine the
woman would take kindly to panhandling.
The cold now seeping into her bones despite the fluffy coat
and the heavy wool sweater she wore underneath, Kiera hurried
across the street, her face tucked into her scarf to protect her
cheeks and lips from the biting wind. She pulled the scarf down
when she stepped through the glass doorway, flashing her
habitual smile at the doorman.
“Thank you,” she said as he held the door for her, and was
rewarded with the warmth of an answering smile.
When she’d been dating Jon, he had needled her about
saying “thank you” to the doorman every single time she passed
through the doorway. He’d thought it excessive courtesy, but she
couldn’t bring herself to walk through without acknowledgment.
She even waved to Carl, the ancient man who sat at the front
desk. He didn’t respond to her greeting, and she realized he had
nodded off, his chin tucked against his chest. She smiled and
shook her head, but didn’t have the heart to wake him.
When Kiera stepped into the cranky old elevator, she
immediately noticed an unusual scent. There had been many a
day when she’d ridden the elevator holding her breath because
someone had apparently bathed in perfume, but this scent was
different. The doors slid closed, and the elevator groaned and
grumbled a bit before grudgingly beginning its ascent. Kiera
closed her eyes and inhaled. Bay leaves and sandalwood and
something else she couldn’t define. Not a food scent, but like no
perfume or cologne she’d ever smelled before.
Kiera reluctantly opened her eyes when the elevator dinged
to let her know she’d reached her floor. Sighing, she stepped out,
the tantalizing scent seeming to follow her to her door.
The uneasiness that had plagued her from the moment she’d
set eyes on that man in the square showed no sign of going away.
She tried to ignore it as she shed her heavy winter wear and sat
in front of her computer. She really needed to get some work
done. Designing a website for Jackson’s pet-sitting services
wasn’t exactly the contract of a lifetime, but he was paying her
for it, and she had said she’d get it done by tomorrow.
Feeling strangely grim for a woman who was playing around
with pictures of kittens and puppies, Kiera tried to concentrate on
her work.
The air smelled like freedom. Hunter leaned against the
closed door and felt almost faint from the rush of pleasure. His
very own apartment! He’d never had a place of his own, never
been alone like this. Always before, when he’d been sent to the
mortal world to hunt down some wayward—and
unfortunate—member of the Unseelie Court who had displeased
the Queen, he’d been accompanied by a retinue of goblins. His to
command, in theory at least. But he knew full well they were his
mother’s spies. The thought of spending several blissful weeks
without the constant fear of being summoned before the Queen’s
throne, or being spied upon by her goblins, was as intoxicating as
the strongest liquor he’d ever tasted.
When his heart had calmed, Hunter looked around the
elegantly furnished apartment his mother had rented for him.
It was directly below Kiera’s, and the floors were old and
creaky enough that he would be able to keep track of her comings
and goings. Even now, he could hear her footsteps as she crossed
the floor above him. He had considered dawdling on his way up
in an effort to share an elevator with her, but after the way she’d
looked at him in the park, he’d thought it more prudent to wait.
She might be too much on her guard if she bumped into him so
shortly afterward.
Hunter found the coat closet and shrugged off his leather
coat and rakish hat. Then, he toured the apartment, which was
decorated in the best of taste, understated and elegant. The Queen
had taken particular care to make the bedroom inviting. Textured
burgundy wallpaper gave the room a warm, intimate glow, and
a rococo iron tree against one wall held twenty pristine candles.
A king sized bed, heaped with autumn-toned pillows, dominated
the room. Hunter lifted the corner of the brocade bedspread and
discerned cream-colored silk sheets below. Smiling, he ran his
fingers over the soft fabric and imagined how it would feel
against his bare skin when he tumbled into the bed with Kiera
beneath him.
When he had finished his tour, Hunter returned to the living
room, where his mother had considerately left a dossier on Kiera.
Reclining on the sofa and propping his feet on the walnut coffee
table, he opened the folder and began to read.
Her surname was Malone, which was her mother’s maiden
name. Thirty-one years old, never married. Her mother, Cathy,
married only once and divorced shortly before Kiera was born.
The timing suggested the divorce had something to do with
Kiera’s conception. Undoubtedly, the husband had known the
child wasn’t his. Did Kiera have any idea who her father was? It
seemed doubtful. More than likely, Cathy didn’t even know who
she had tumbled into bed with.
Paper-clipped to the dossier was a business card, advertising
Kiera’s freelance web design services. Hunter slipped the card
out and tossed the rest of the dossier aside. At the top right corner
of the card was a picture of Kiera’s smiling face. It was one of
those false, I’m-about-to-have-my-picture-taken smiles, but it
still made her look significantly prettier. Maybe with some
makeup and a decent haircut . . .
Hunter cut off that train of thought. It wouldn’t matter if she
were the ugliest woman on the face of the planet—his job was to
bed her and impregnate her. All that mattered was figuring out
how to gain himself an invitation to her bed. If she allowed him
the privilege just once, he knew she would never be able to resist
him again.
But first, he had to meet her. A chance meeting in the
elevator might not give him enough time to work his magic. He
had to make her a captive audience, so to speak. The most
obvious way to do that was to hire her to design a website.
What kind of business should he pretend to need a website
for? It needed to be something that would evoke her curiosity,
make her take notice of him from the start as something other
than just another customer. Not that she wouldn’t take notice of
him anyway, of course. He had no use for false modesty. His
mother, for all her reprehensible qualities, was the most beautiful
woman he’d ever seen, and his father had been the kind of man
women swooned over. Only the best for the Faerie Queen’s bed.
Hunter shook off the bitterness, though it hovered ever
around him. There was no point in bemoaning his fate. All he
could do was try to stay alive and in as little pain as possible. If
he succeeded in his mission, his mother would in less than a year
have a new child to torment, and he would likely fade from her
notice.
He forced his mind back to the task at hand before he could
start thinking too much about the fate of that child.
Whatever business he invented for himself, it had to be
something he could reasonably hope to fake. The optimal choice
would be something Kiera would instantly associate with sensual
pleasure. And yet his needed to be a respectable business, not
something tawdry that might turn her off.
A slow smile spread over Hunter’s face as a brilliant idea
came to mind.
He abandoned his comfortable seat on the sofa to spend
several long hours in front of the computer, searching the Internet
for the equipment and instruction he needed to pull this off.
Kiera took a deep, steadying breath before she pulled open
the diner door. Lunch with her mother was always an adventure
and usually left her unsettled, or irritated, or just plain confused.
However, with them both living in Philadelphia, it seemed there
was no way Kiera could shield herself entirely from her mom’s
goofiness.
Bells adorned the diner’s door—no doubt in early
preparation for Christmas—and they jingled loudly. Only the
patrons nearest the door seemed to notice the sound. Kiera
scanned the bustling crowd and soon picked out her mother’s
signature carrot-orange hair. Inwardly, she sighed. She would
have thought once her mother went gray, she would have chosen
a more . . . understated . . . color for her hair. Instead, she insisted
on replicating the hideous orange that Kiera had always
hated—both on her mother and on herself.
Her mother waved eagerly, and Kiera wove through the
tables until she reached the booth. Cathy Malone beamed as
though she hadn’t seen her daughter in years.
“Have a seat!” her mother cried, sounding far more excited
than the situation warranted. Her eyes shone with an almost
manic glee, and Kiera’s guard went up.
Kiera hung her coat on the metal hanger attached to the seat,
then slid into the booth, still wearing her hat and scarf. The seat
made an unattractive whooshing sound when she sat. “Have you
ordered?” she asked, reaching for a menu. Not that she hadn’t
memorized the menu ages ago, but she desperately wanted to put
some kind of distance between them before she could get sucked
into her mother’s madness.
Unfortunately, her mother ignored the question entirely.
“Guess what?” she cried, loudly enough that Kiera glanced
around to see if anyone was staring at them.
“It sure is cold today,” Kiera tried, aware that her voice had
an almost desperate edge to it.
Her mother laughed and plucked the menu out of Kiera’s
hands, tucking it back in its holder. Kiera looked up, frowning.
Her mother had never been beautiful, but she was striking, even
now. The orange hair was cut ultra short, except for a coquettish
curl that dangled over her forehead. Freckles dotted her nose and
cheeks, and though she tended to wear too much makeup on her
eyes and lips, she never covered those freckles with foundation.
Her eyes were russet, but recently she’d taken to wearing green
contact lenses. No one would mistake that kelly green for her
natural color, and yet somehow it looked right on her.
Today, those eyes shone with glee. “No hiding, and no
changing the subject,” she scolded, the smile never leaving her
face. “I’m blissfully happy, and I want to share that happiness
with my daughter. There’s no crime in that.”
Kiera leaned back in the booth and regarded her mother
skeptically. “The last time you were this happy was when you
thought you’d found the best get-rich-quick idea you’d ever
heard of and you got ripped off by a stupid pyramid scheme. The
time before that, if I remember correctly, was when you did that
past life regression therapy and ‘discovered’ you were a
reincarnation of Boudicca, the Celtic warrior queen.” Kiera felt
her cheeks heating with indignation as she continued to catalog
her mother’s nutty missteps. “Then there was the time you went
on your crusade to save the homeless and started inviting various
drunks and junkies to spend the night in the warmth of your
apartment and ended up homeless yourself when your landlord
kicked you out.”
Her mother crossed her arms over her chest, no longer
looking quite so gleeful. “Don’t forget the time I claimed to have
slept with the King of Faerie and borne his child.”
Kiera rolled her eyes. God, please don’t let her go on about
that nonsense again! The only thing Kiera felt certain of about
her birth was that her mom had been staggering drunk when
she’d bedded down with her father—whoever he was. The man
had probably been equally drunk. Kiera had no idea which of the
two drunken nut-cases had come up with the King of Faerie idea,
but if she had to guess, she’d say her mom. Any way she could
find to make her life seem more dramatic and important than it
was, Cathy Malone would seize with a single-minded gusto.
“I don’t know how I managed to raise such a closed-minded
cynic,” her mother said with a shake of her head.
Kiera ground her teeth. “I don’t know, Mom. Maybe it’s
because I’ve seen you screw up so many times and unlike you
I’m actually capable of learning from your mistakes.” This was
turning out to be even worse than she’d thought it would be! She
usually managed to convey long-suffering tolerance with her
mom. Today, she seemed unable to contain her disdain.
A harried waitress finally arrived to take their order,
delaying the resumption of hostilities. Kiera, her appetite stolen
by the argument, ordered soup and salad. Her mother ordered a
hot turkey sandwich and mashed potatoes. She would eat the
whole thing, gravy and all, without gaining a single ounce. Her
wild-eyed energy seemed to burn up the calories as fast as she
could suck them in. The thought made Kiera even more grumpy.
“Well,” her mother said brightly, “it doesn’t really matter
what you think of me or my way of life. Notice that one of us is
sitting here with a big smile on her face and the other has a
thundercloud hovering over her head. That isn’t a coincidence.”
Kiera folded her arms and felt like a sulky teenager. “I never
said it was. You get quite a kick out of getting on my nerves, so
of course you’re having fun.”
“Yes, dear, I live to make you miserable. Now, can I tell you
my news, or would you like to sneer a little more first?”
Kiera was always amazed at how easily her mother shrugged
off these little tiffs of theirs. Kiera would probably spend the rest
of the day brooding about it, and here her mom was making
jokes. She unfolded her arms and sat up straight. Her choices
were to listen to what her mom had to say, or walk out. Even
Kiera had to admit she had no cause to walk out. After all, she
had started the fight.
“I’ll wait until you tell me your news, then I’ll sneer some
more, okay?”
Her mom flashed her an ironic grin. “Yes, I believe you
will.” She paused dramatically before continuing. “I’ve found
him,” she announced with great ceremony.
Kiera bowed her head and tried to suppress a groan. There
was only one “him” her mother could mean. For as long as Kiera
could remember, her mother had been on a quest to find “him.”
In her mind, “he” was the Holy Grail, though Kiera thought it
was more like one of those silly snipe hunts they sent you on in
summer camp.
“So,” she said, not attempting to hide her sarcasm, “does Mr.
Right have a name?”
“No, he’s an anonymous sperm donor. Did I mention I was
pregnant?”
Kiera’s head jerked up, her common sense momentarily on
vacation while she thought for one fleeting instant her mother
was serious. The waitress chose that moment to sling their food
onto the table, breezing away before Kiera could remind her
she’d ordered the chicken soup, not the clam chowder.
“I thought I was the one who’s supposed to be gullible,” her
mother said as she cut into her sandwich. “Of course he has a
name.” She giggled like a school girl. “And, wouldn’t you know
it, his name is Alonso Wright.”
That surprised a laugh out of Kiera. “Mom, that’s one of the
oldest—and silliest—jokes in the world.”
“Well, it’s the honest-to-God truth. Wright is a very common
last name, you know. And I’m sure Alonso has heard a million
Mr. Right jokes in his lifetime. But just like I told you, sweetie,
the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew he was destined to be my
soul mate.”
Kiera’s stomach turned over at the sappy smile and the even
sappier words. Her mom had dated quite a few men over the
years, some of them for significant periods of time. Kiera knew
at least two of them had proposed marriage. But though her mom
had been fond of these men, maybe even loved one or two of
them, she’d insisted that none of them was her mythical soul
mate, her Mr. Right. Annoyingly, she had also declared that none
of the men Kiera had ever dated was her soul mate either. Kiera
wished she had married one of them and lived happily ever after,
if only to prove her mother wrong.
“And does Mr. Wright share your certainty that you are
destined for one another?”
“Well, we haven’t exactly met each other yet, so no.”
Kiera stared. “You haven’t met him, but you’re sure he’s
your soul mate. Mom, you’ve always been a goof, but this is just
a bit over the top even for you.”
Her mother wrinkled her nose. “I told you there was fey
blood in our family tree—even before my little fling with your
father. I’ve always had a little touch of magic, and I can tell you
that Alonso Wright and I are meant to be together.”
“Uh-huh.” Kiera speared a cherry tomato and popped it in
her mouth. At least if she was chewing, her mom wouldn’t expect
her to offer any encouraging commentary.
“Alonso owns the Old World Charm Café—you know, that
new little Italian restaurant that opened up right around the corner
from me. His mother is an Italian who married an American, and
he learned to cook from her. When I tried out the restaurant, he
was making the rounds and stopped by my table. The moment he
spoke to me, I knew.” Her mother’s smile turned sly. “You know,
being more than half fey yourself, you probably don’t even have
to speak to a man to know whether he’s your Mr. Right or not.”
Kiera considered stuffing another bite of salad in her mouth
to avoid this conversation, but her appetite was nonexistent. “You
forget, Mom: I don’t believe in this Mr. Right crap. If there were
only one Mr. Right for every woman, the human population
would be decimated because no one would ever find him. Hell,
even if Alonso is your soul mate, you didn’t manage to find him
until after menopause.”
“There are a lot of Mr. Almost-Rights and Mr. Hell-No’s out
there, and women marry them and have kids with them all the
time. Believe me, I know! I married a Mr. Hell-No, and I had a
kid by . . . Well, I don’t know how to categorize your father.
This isn’t about procreation. It’s about finding the one most
suitable partner that exists for you. And believe me, it’s worth the
wait.”
Kiera bit her tongue. She wanted to ask her mom how the
hell she could know it was worth the wait when she hadn’t even
met the guy. But that question would spur others, and Kiera’s
temper was rising ever closer to the surface. Her mother reached
across the table and grasped her hand, startling her.
“Kiera, honey, I know you think I’m just this side of
certifiable, but even us crazy people occasionally get something
right. You are my pride and joy, and I don’t regret for a minute
the night I spent with your father. I so desperately want you to be
happy.”
Some of the temper drained away at the earnestness of her
mother’s expression. No matter how often she complained about
her mother’s eccentricities, Kiera loved her dearly, and there had
never been a moment’s doubt that her mother loved her. “I am
happy, Mom,” she insisted, though perhaps without the
vehemence she should have.
Her mother gave her a knowing look. “If you say so, dear.”
Kiera gently extricated her hand from her mother’s grip and
made another attempt to eat her salad.

Chapter 2
Hunter glanced impatiently at his watch as he sipped his
cooling cup of coffee and watched the ebb and flow of customers
through the doorway. His appointment was supposed to be at two
o’clock, and Kiera was now fifteen minutes late. Unprofessional,
to say the least! She lived only a block away from the coffee
shop, and his covert observation had shown she rarely left her
apartment for more than the occasional shopping trip or meal. No
excuse whatsoever for being late when meeting a potential client!
The bell on the coffee shop door tinkled, and Kiera stepped
in from the cold, her cheeks bright red from the wind’s bite. She
was wearing the same ugly coat, the same hat, and the same scarf
that she’d worn every time he’d laid eyes on her. He had thought
perhaps she would dress more appropriately when meeting a
client. He himself had chosen an expensive Armani jacket, paired
with a silk shirt and Italian loafers. His black leather coat was
draped across one of the four chairs at his table, though today he
had skipped the hat.
Kiera scanned the tables. He had not described himself to
her, and he’d told her he’d recognize her when she entered the
shop from her picture on her business card. He let her examine
each of the tables, hoping she was sweating and thinking her
client had failed to wait for her. But when her eyes found his
table, she stopped her search. Her brows drew together in just a
hint of a frown, and he wondered if she remembered seeing him
in the square the other day. Then she banished the frown and
strode to his table.
“Hunter Teague?” she inquired, so sure she was right she
was already pulling out a chair to sit down.
Hunter’s reply was half a beat late because he was so startled
by her certainty. “How did you know?” he asked, hoping he
sounded only mildly curious instead of annoyed.
She piled her motley array of winter wear onto the other
empty chair, then shrugged. “Instinct, I guess. You look like your
voice sounded.”
Hunter was struck momentarily speechless, not knowing
what to make of that comment. He tried to hide his discomfiture
by taking another sip of coffee. It had gone cold and bitter, and
he couldn’t help the grimace of distaste. She had now spoken two
sentences, and already she had managed to put him off balance!
Pushing the coffee cup away, he cocked his head at her. “Is that
a compliment or an insult, I wonder?”
She looked surprised. “Neither. Just an observation.” The
surprise vanished under a sweet smile as she stuck her hand out
over the table. “Kiera Malone, at your service.”
Hunter suppressed a growl of frustration, for somehow Kiera
seemed to have taken charge when he had assumed he would
hold the reins. His intention had been to stand when she entered
the room. Then, when she shook his hand, he would give her a
gallant kiss on the knuckles. It would unsettle and confuse her,
but with a potential client she would accept the anachronistic
gesture with grace. And he would have gained instant control of
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/11
the interview.
Now, however, it was too late to stand up, and he would feel
silly kissing her knuckles when sitting down. Annoyed that his
choreography had been ruined so easily, he managed a winning
smile as he clasped her hand warmly.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Malone. As you so rightly
guessed, I am indeed Hunter Teague. Would you like a cup of
coffee before we begin?”
Kiera brushed red curls out of her face and shook her head.
“No, thanks. I’ve had so much coffee already I might float away.
But if you want a warm-up, go ahead.” She reached into her
pocket and withdrew a couple of dollar bills, holding them out to
him. “I’m buying, since I kept you waiting.”
Hunter stared at the bills as though they were something
filthy. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, his lip curling in
disdain even as he tried to school his expression.
Kiera laughed and dropped the bills onto the table. “Don’t
tell me you’re one of those old-fashioned guys who think women
should never pay for anything! I’ll write this off as a business
expense, so it’s really no hardship.”
“I did not suggest it was a hardship. I would merely find it
. . . impolite.” He pushed back his chair, still refusing the money.
“I shall return momentarily,” he said, grabbing his cup and
retreating.
There were several people in line at the counter, so Hunter
had a couple of minutes to pull himself together. He couldn’t
remember ever meeting anyone who had him so thoroughly
flummoxed so quickly. He was ashamed of himself! Surely he
could ad-lib better than this, even if she had spoiled his well laid
out plans. He frowned as he reached the head of the line and
ordered another coffee. Maybe he was merely reacting to the
pressure of having to seduce someone on command. His past
conquests had all been women of his own choosing.
Returning to the table, Hunter found Kiera had pulled out a
yellow, spiral-bound note pad and a mechanical pencil. She was
idly doodling in the margins when he set his cup of coffee onto
the table and sat down.
Kiera stopped doodling and flashed him one of those brilliant
smiles. He noted she looked almost pretty when she smiled. He
also noted that he was smiling back without having meant to.
“So, Mr. Teague,” she said, “tell me a little about your
business and about what you imagine your website will look
like.”
“Please, call me Hunter.”
“All right,” she agreed easily.
“As I believe I mentioned on the phone, I am a massage
therapist.” He watched her face closely for her reaction, and was
rewarded with a spark of interest.
“You did mention it.” Her smile changed into something
more like a grin. “You don’t look like any massage therapist I’ve
ever seen!”
Aha, now he was getting somewhere. He took a sip of his
coffee and raised his eyebrows. “Oh? What should a massage
therapist look like?”
She was still grinning. “In my experience, they’re always
these tiny little new-age women who look like they couldn’t even
lift a bag of dog food, and yet their hands are so strong they
could crush bricks in them.”
He put down the coffee cup and pushed it aside, leaning
forward ever so slightly, letting his Faerie glamour surround him
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/12
and reach for her. “Well,” he murmured, “I may not be a petite
new age woman, but I do have strong hands.”
He expected her eyes to get that smoky, glazed look women
usually got when they felt the touch of his glamour, but Kiera
remained distressingly clear-eyed. Of course, being half-fey
herself, she was undoubtedly more resistant to glamour than the
average mortal.
“What led you to such an unusual profession?” she asked.
Hunter tried not to be disgruntled by her failure to fall
instantly under his spell. Luckily, he had invented an entire past
for himself and had his lie ready to hand. “An old girlfriend of
mine was in training to be a massage therapist. She practiced on
me. I wanted to be able to return the favor.”
The way she was looking at him was worrisome. He could
tell at once that she doubted his story, though he didn’t know
why that should be. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable
explanation. He wondered if he had made a tactical error in
choosing massage as his profession. Perhaps it was too femaledominated
an industry, and he was raising her suspicions by his
unusual choice. But the possibilities were too tempting. If she
resisted all his other charms, surely she would not be able to
resist him when he talked her into sampling his services.
Imagining her lying naked on the massage table stirred something
deep in his belly. When he took the fantasy a step further,
imagining his hands on the bare, smooth skin of her back, heat
flooded him.
Hunter reached for his cup of coffee once more, startled by
his reaction. Kiera wasn’t pretty enough to justify the lust she had
somehow inspired in him. He wondered if she had a touch of
Faerie glamour around her, despite being mortal.
Whatever doubts she might have had about his explanation,
she banished them with a shrug. “So, you’ve recently moved here
from New York, and you need to establish a new clientele.”
“That’s right.”
“Do you have a business card?”
“Of course.” He pulled a gold business card holder from his
pocket, flipping it open and passing a card across the table. He’d
decided that the card should be plain and understated—let Kiera
put her mind to the task of designing an image for him. The
harder she had to think about the allure of massage, the more
susceptible she would be when he moved in for the kill.
Kiera took the card and glanced at it briefly. She started to
tuck it into her coat pocket, then pulled it out again and looked at
it more closely. Her eyebrows shot up. “Why, this is the same
building I live in!” she said.
“Is it?” he exclaimed in feigned surprise.
“What a coincidence.”
He smiled. “Yes. And a convenient one at that.”
She smiled in what was probably supposed to be agreement,
but he could see at once that the thought of him living in the
same building made her uncomfortable. He stored that
observation away for future reference.
“All right,” Kiera said brightly, sticking the card in her coat
pocket, “that gives me the essential address and phone
information. Now tell me a little bit more about how you
envision your website looking.”
He tried to look appropriately helpless. “To tell you the truth,
I haven’t the faintest idea. When I was in New York, I built my
clientele by word of mouth, and I haven’t a clue how to attract
new clients through a website.” He smiled hopefully. “I was
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rather thinking that was where you came in.”
“Yes, of course. I just wanted to know if you had something
in mind to begin with. What kind of image would you like to
build?”
“Peaceful,” he answered promptly. “Relaxing. Sensual
without being sexual.” He almost smiled to see the faint hint of
color in her cheeks at his mere suggestion of sex.
Kiera scribbled a few notes, then stuck the end of the pencil
in her mouth without seeming to notice she was doing it. “And
what vital information do you need displayed?”
He launched into a detailed description of his “business” and
his offerings. He’d read up on several forms of massage on the
Internet, and had settled on Swedish and deep tissue massage as
his specialties, as they seemed to have the broadest appeal. He’d
called a number of spas in the area to inquire about the prices,
making sure his own were reasonable. He’d even bought a couple
of instructional books and videos, so he knew the basics of what
he’d be expected to do. He’d had no one to practice on, of course,
but he was sure the touch of his hands would be sufficient to hide
any deficiency in his training.
By the time he was through, Kiera had covered a whole page
with scrawled, illegible notes, and had left many a tooth mark in
her pencil. She was chewing on it again as she glanced over the
page of notes, and Hunter found his attention riveted to her lips
as she toyed with the pencil. Images came to mind of those lips
wrapped around something other than a pencil, and his manhood
stirred restlessly.
An interesting development, he thought, frowning. He’d
assumed he would have to use plenty of imagination to arouse
himself sufficiently to do his job, but Kiera seemed to be
inspiring him all on her own. He couldn’t imagine why. Not that
she was ugly. In fact, he was probably being uncharitable when
he thought of her as homely—she just wasn’t beautiful, and he’d
never yet felt such an attraction to any but the most lovely mortal
specimens.
Kiera extracted the pencil from her mouth and nodded
briskly. “I think I’ve got enough here to work with,” she told
him, closing the notebook. “When do you need the project
done?”
He gave her his most charming smile. “I am more concerned
that the project be done right than that it be done fast.”
“All right. I can have some mockups for you in about a
week. I’ll come up with three design schemes, then a couple
sample pages for each scheme. You tell me which one you want
me to pursue, or if you want me to give you more options. Sound
fair?”
“Sounds perfect.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his
wallet and counting out four crisp hundred-dollar bills.
Kiera blinked in surprise when he handed the money to her.
“We did agree on four hundred as a down-payment, didn’t
we?” he asked.
The surprise vanished under another of her lovely smiles.
“Yes, of course. I just wasn’t expecting cash is all.” She took the
money and tucked it into a pocket in her jeans. “You being a city
boy, I wouldn’t have expected you to carry that kind of cash
around in your wallet.”
“I pity any pickpocket or mugger who dares to mess with
me.” He allowed a little of the savagery that was his birthright to
show in his fierce smile. Kiera saw it and recognized it; he could
tell by the almost imperceptible shiver that ran through her. If she
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/14
was like most women, that savagery would both frighten and
excite her.
Hunter rose smoothly from his chair, slipping into his leather
coat and pretending he didn’t notice the effect he had had on her.
She remained seated, looking uncertain of herself for the first
time. He reached out to shake her hand, and she instinctively
complied.
“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Kiera,” he said, putting a
hint of a seductive purr in his voice. Her palm was damp as he
squeezed her hand, and he couldn’t help wondering if she was
damp anywhere else.
She smiled, just a bit too brightly, the apples reappearing on
her cheeks. “You too.”
Thinking that perhaps the reality was even better than the
scene he had choreographed in his mind, he bent to press his lips
against her knuckles. His mouth felt the tremor that shook her
and he had to suppress a gloating smile. She was falling already.
Releasing her hand slowly, he pulled his coat closed and
swept out of the coffee shop.
Kiera sat unmoving at the table for a long time after Hunter
was gone. The shop smelled heavily of coffee beans, but
underneath that she scented bay leaves and sandalwood. Her
knuckles still felt hot from the touch of his lips, and her throat
was dry as parchment.
She’d never felt anything like this before! She had met
Hunter less than an hour ago, and already her hormones were
screaming that she had to have him. All right, so he was quite a
treat for the eyes, and his deep, cultured voice had a naturally
seductive throb in it that would make any woman’s knees weak.
But really! She was thirty-one years old! Much too old to go all
soft and gooey because a handsome man looked at her. She
smiled to herself. All right, a drop-dead gorgeous man who oozed
with blatant male sexuality. But she still had no right to feel this
horny just from a meeting with a client.
Unbidden to her mind came her mother’s voice, talking
about the quest for Mr. Right, telling Kiera she would know her
soul mate the instant she laid eyes on him. And Kiera
remembered seeing Hunter sitting on that park bench almost a
week before he’d called to make an appointment. Why, out of all
of the thousands of men she’d seen in the crowded streets of
Philadelphia, did that one stand out so in her mind?
Kiera laughed and shook her head at herself. Looniness must
run in her family, and she was apparently suffering from a
delayed onset. There was nothing the least bit mysterious about
Hunter or her attraction to him! He was just a gorgeous guy, and
she was an unattached woman who’d gone too long between
boyfriends.
Not willing to go back to her apartment building—Hunter
lived there, after all, and she didn’t think she wanted to see him
again just yet—she ordered a decaf and curled up on an arm chair
in the corner of the intimate little seating area. Her mind seemed
not her own right now, for if she didn’t concentrate every
moment on not thinking about it, she found herself imagining
Hunter stripping off his expensive clothes for her pleasure.
Kiera frowned at the image. She hadn’t thought about it
before, but his clothes really had been expensive. Why, the
leather coat alone must have cost a small fortune! And that
business card holder had had a gleam to it that suggested it might
be real gold. Was massage therapy so lucrative an occupation?
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/15
And now that the fog of sexual desire was finally beginning
to fade, how could that man possibly be a massage therapist?
Sure, looks could be deceiving, as could stereotypes, but it was
almost impossible to imagine Hunter . . . She closed her eyes and
tried to picture him putting his hands on the sagging flesh of one
of the matronly women who resided in their apartment building,
and her mind balked. Her mind balked even more at the image of
him putting his hands on a man’s flesh. Something about it just
wasn’t right.
But that was silly, right? Why would he lie about it? Why
would he hire her to design a website for his business if he didn’t
really have a business? Paranoia, she decided. First she’d caught
herself thinking he might be the mythical Mr. Right, now she was
thinking he was some kind of imposter.
Sure this temporary insanity was somehow her mother’s
fault, Kiera pulled out the pad of notes and began idly sketching
out some design ideas.
Hunter’s nostrils flared the instant he stepped into his
apartment. He recognized that stink, like poorly tanned leather.
With a flick of his wrist, he unsheathed the knife he kept hidden
up his sleeve. Cautiously, he moved farther into the apartment,
his nose twitching as he followed the stench of goblin until he
found the uninvited guest in the room that would one day be his
massage studio. Already, the room sported a massage table, CD
player, and a stack of CD’s with soothing, tuneless music on
them.
Bane didn’t hear Hunter’s silent footsteps—he was too busy
uncapping and sniffing the collection of massage oils and lotions
Hunter had purchased. In fact, the goblin had no hint he was not
alone until the silver blade of Hunter’s knife was pressed into the
flesh of his throat.
Hunter hated to be this close to Bane. On top of the goblin’s
natural tainted odor, the street bum disguise also stank and was
crusted with filth. “I don’t remember inviting you in,” Hunter
growled in the goblin’s ear, increasing the pressure on the knife
so that the blade just broke the first layer of skin.
Bane didn’t move, but Hunter sensed no hint of fear from
him, no tensing of his muscles, no quickening of his heartbeat.
“Her Majesty would be displeased with you if you killed me,” he
said calmly.
Hunter’s hand itched to draw the knife across the evil
creature’s throat, but he didn’t want to imagine how the Queen
would punish him for killing the most vicious of her courtiers. “It
might almost be worth it.”
“You don’t have the balls for it, half-breed.”
Hunter reined in his temper with an effort. Bane had goaded
him into more foolish acts in his lifetime than he could bear to
admit. Just this once, he would refrain from taking the bait.
With a grunt of disgust, Hunter released the goblin and slid
the knife back into its sheath. Bane put a little distance between
them, then reached up to finger his throat. A thin line of blood
beaded where Hunter’s knife had bitten. Bane examined the
blood on his fingers, lips twisted into a snarl that showed his
fangs.
“If you were going to stick me, Prince, you should’ve done
a better job than this!” He licked the blood from his fingers.
“Barely enough to annoy me.”
“What do you want?”
Bane chuckled. “What do you think I want, Boyo? I want to
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/16
snap your bones one by one and hear you scream.”
Hunter met the goblin’s eyes. “Yes, well I wanted to slit your
throat, but I refrained.”
Bane’s chuckle turned into an all-out laugh. “The Queen will
be highly pleased with both of us for our self-control.” He looked
genuinely amused by their mutual desire to kill each other, and
Hunter could do nothing but shake his head.
Neither a lifetime in the Unseelie Court, nor the Unseelie
blood that ran through him, was enough to make him understand
how these creatures could so greatly enjoy killing. It wasn’t that
Hunter had never killed before. Most of the unfortunates he’d
hunted for the Queen’s pleasure had been highly reluctant to be
taken alive. Usually, he’d been able to subdue them, but there
were times he’d “accidentally” killed his mother’s intended
victim. There’d been a certain sense of satisfaction with those
deaths—despite the inevitable consequences. But he’d never
actually enjoyed the killing, not like these goblins did, not like his
mother did.
“Why are you here?” he asked with exaggerated patience.
“A little reminder from Mama,” Bane sneered. “Just because
you’re on your own doesn’t mean she isn’t watching you. And
she can always get to you if you displease her.”
Hunter had never doubted that for a moment, but he wasn’t
particularly surprised she’d felt compelled to send him the
message. Nor was he surprised she’d chosen Bane, whom he
hated above all others—except his mother herself—as the
messenger.
“Well, now that your message is delivered, you can get the
hell out of my apartment. I’ll have to fumigate just to get the
stench out.”
Bane gave him another of his toothy, vicious smiles. “Sorry
for the . . . inconvenience. But, since I’ve already inconvenienced
you, perhaps I should stain the carpet with your blood while I’m
at it.”
“If you thought you could get away with it, you would have
gone for my throat already. Now, are you planning to leave
peacefully, or will I have to throw you out?”
“I wouldn’t want you to get your hands dirty, Prince,” Bane
said, starting toward the door.
Hunter tried to step aside, knowing that Bane would shoulder
him out of the way if he didn’t. But it seemed that only a handful
of days in the mortal world had already dulled his instincts, for
he didn’t read the intention in Bane’s eyes until too late.
As Bane brushed by, he made a fist and poked a lightningquick
jab at Hunter’s groin. The pain drove Hunter to his knees,
and for a moment he could barely breathe as his body clenched
in agony.
“That’s for the little nick you gave me. Unfortunately, I can’t
hit you any harder or you might have trouble performing your
stud duties. But if the Queen ever takes the muzzles off us, I’ll
show you what I really wanted to do.”
Hunter had to fight too hard for air to manage a comeback.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/17
Chapter 3
“It’s perfect,” Jackson declared, looking over her shoulder at
the site she’d designed for him.
Kiera beamed, absurdly pleased to have won his approval.
He’d been her best friend ever since her senior year in college,
and this project was more like a favor than an actual job. But
Jackson had never been shy about his opinions, so she knew he
meant what he said.
Jackson put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed.
“You’re a genius, you know,” he said, and she laughed.
“Do I look like I need an ego boost today?”
He moved around her chair and rested a hip against the desk.
He was wearing a heavy wool turtleneck in muted shades of red,
and a pair of black leather jeans that molded to his ass like a
second skin. Kiera couldn’t help thinking that the jeans were so
tight, he should be showing the male version of panty lines;
however, the leather was smooth and unmarred. “I don’t know
about an ego boost, but you do have one of those looks today.”
Surprised, she pushed her chair back from the desk and
frowned at him. He always seemed to see her moods, even when
she thought she was hiding them so well even the CIA wouldn’t
know she was faking it. “One of what looks?” she asked.
He cocked his head as he regarded her more closely. She
tried not to squirm under the scrutiny. “At a guess, I’d say you
met a new potential man in your life.”
Kiera grinned and shook her head. The man was amazing.
“Not really,” she said, thinking of Hunter and the burning kiss he
had planted on her hand. “Just a good-looking client.”
Jackson raised an eyebrow. “Is he married?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t ask clients personal
questions like that.”
“Hmpf! You ask me personal questions all the time.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. But if it makes
you happy, I did notice he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.”
“So, you met a good-looking, unmarried client, and he’s
impressed you enough that I picked up the lust vibe from you.
Why does he not qualify as a potential man in your life?”
She tried to look nonchalant. “Other than the fact that I don’t
date clients, you mean?”
“You work from home where you’re guaranteed never to
meet any new men, you hardly ever go out, at least not for
anything fun, and now you tell me you don’t date clients.” He
frowned and tapped his lips thoughtfully. “It sounds to me as
though you’re avoiding men.”
She snorted. “I’m not avoiding you,” she pointed out.
“That’s because I’m not a threat,” he countered, quite
reasonably. “I might as well be ‘one of the girls.’”
She had to laugh at that. She had never thought of him as
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/18
“one of the girls,” despite the occasionally flamboyant clothing,
and despite his boyfriends. But, she had to admit, he had never
been a potential lover, so his accusation was more accurate than
she wished to admit.
“Can you really blame me, Jackson? With my history?”
“Blame you? No. But, if you would occasionally take my
advice when I tell you you’re dating an asshole, perhaps you
might do better.”
Her cheeks felt suddenly hot and she looked away. “You and
my mother always seem to know when I’m dating the wrong guy,
but neither one of you can avoid the lemons any better than I
can.”
“It’s all a question of perspective,” he told her, making a
mock-serious face. “Perhaps you should introduce me to this
client of yours.”
“Jackson . . .” she warned.
He held his hands out in a gesture of supreme innocence. “Of
course, I would never suggest that you disregard your
professional ethics and date a client. But as he does seem to have
piqued your interest, I can tell you whether it might have worked
out. If you were willing to date clients.”
She gave him a narrow-eyed glare, even though she couldn’t
help wondering what Jackson would make of the unsettling
Hunter Teague. “Keep your match-making nose out of this,
Jackson. I’m serious.” Despite all the sexual heat Hunter had
aroused in her, he was definitely not her type, she told herself.
Too arrogant, too smooth.
Jackson’s smile became devious. “Of course, I’m unattached
right now myself. Do you think he might be my type?”
She laughed. “No. I don’t think the two of your egos could
fit in the same room at the same time.”
He took the jibe with his usual good-natured humor,
laughing as he reached out to rumple her hair. “Hey!” she cried,
batting his arm out of the way.
“You can’t mean to tell me you think I could do any further
damage to that unruly mess!” he protested.
“Leave my hair out of this,” she grumbled. “I like it just the
way it is. And you’re not a hairdresser.” She used her fingers to
smooth out the curls as best she could. As a teenager, she’d tried
unsuccessfully to tame them. Now, as a mature adult, she was
determined to embrace them.
Jackson pushed away from the desk and glanced at the screen
once more. “Brilliant,” he told her again. “Absolutely brilliant.”
He bent to plant a light kiss on her cheek. “Worth every cent I
paid you for it. And more, I might add.”
She’d refused to charge him full price for her services,
despite his protestations. He couldn’t have afforded it, and
besides it just didn’t seem right to charge a friend full price. “If
I ever have a pet, you can sit for it at half price to make up the
difference,” she told him.
He sighed heavily. “If you weren’t allergic, I would feel
much more comforted. Ah, well. I’ll find a devious way to pay
you back, never fear.”
“As long as that devious way has nothing to do with Hunter,
that’s fine.” She recognized her tactical error the moment the
words left her mouth, but it was too late to stuff them back in.
“Hunter?” Jackson asked with a wicked grin. “His name is
Hunter?”
“Let it go, Jackson.”
“But even the name sounds sexy. Kiera, I’ve got to meet this
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/19
guy.”
“Go play with your puppies. I’ve got work to do.”
“For Hunter the sexpot?”
“Jackson, you’ve got one of the finest asses known to
mankind, and it would be a terrible shame if I took a big bite out
of it. Go!”
With another laugh, Jackson finally withdrew, leaving Kiera
to contemplate with no small amount of dread just what kind of
mischief her best and oldest friend would get into.
Kiera had suggested they meet at the coffee shop again, and
though she’d had the distinct impression Hunter wished to make
a counter-suggestion, he kept it to himself. She bundled the
screen mockups into a manila folder, then started layering on the
winter clothes.
She paused to glance at herself in the mirror before stepping
out into the hallway. What she saw brought her up short.
She’d never thought of herself as a fashion queen, preferring
comfort to style, but she was suddenly struck by how awful this
outfit looked. The fluffy green down coat was at least one size
too big for her—she’d known that when she’d bought it, but it
had been on sale, and it had been warm, and she’d figured it
didn’t look that bad. The warm knit hat she pulled down over her
ears was in a conflicting shade of green, and the way her riot of
hair spilled out beneath it reminded her suddenly of one of those
Bozo the Clown wigs.
Hunter was a client, not a date. But there was no reason she
should look like such a slob when going to meet a client, either.
She pulled off the hat and flung it back into the closet. The
quick motion left her hair alive with static electricity. She
shrugged off the coat and hurried to the bedroom. Layers. That
was the key to staying warm. So she donned a turtleneck, a woolblend
sweater, and a corduroy blazer. Then she hurried into the
bathroom and brushed some water into her hair, temporarily
taming the static. Satisfied—and now running significantly
late—Kiera hurried out the front door and headed across the
square.
This was one of the coldest Novembers in her memory, and
the instant she left the comfort of her building, she cursed the
vanity that had moved her to change out of the heavy coat. At
least the cold made hurrying easy. Hunter didn’t strike her as the
type who had much patience with tardiness, and she’d sensed a
distinct annoyance when she’d arrived late for their first meeting.
When she burst through the coffee shop door, she felt chilled
down to her bones. She stood blinking in the doorway a moment,
letting her eyes adjust to the dimness. Then her eyes found
Hunter, sitting at a four-person table with his arms crossed over
his chest. He had stretched his legs out into the aisle, crossing his
heavy black boots at the ankle, and she could tell at once that he
was exasperated by the delay. Heat rose to her frosty cheeks.
Kiera crossed the distance in several nervous strides, her
stomach feeling strangely fluttery. Ridiculous to feel nervous, of
course. He was just a client, one of many. Nothing special about
him whatsoever. Get a grip, Kiera, she scolded. She smiled
brightly and held out her hand as she approached the table.
Hunter uncoiled. That was the best word she could think of
to describe the way he sat up in his chair, drawing his legs back
under him and uncrossing his arms.
Kiera froze in her tracks, her heart nearly stopping at that
brief image of him as a cobra about to strike. There was
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/20
something fierce and primal in his eyes, something that chilled
her far more than the frigid wind.
Then, he smiled, and the illusion burst. He was once more a
drop-dead gorgeous man with expensive taste in clothes. Today,
he was wearing a deep blue turtleneck that brought out the color
of his eyes. She was pretty sure the turtleneck was silk. He had
dressed down some today, the silk turtleneck tucked into jeans
instead of designer pants, but the leather coat was draped over the
chair again, and even the jeans looked like they’d been tailored
just for him. Once again she wondered how a massage therapist
could afford to dress like that.
Hunter clasped her hand warmly, and she noted the
smoothness of his skin. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, slipping into
the chair across from him and putting the manila folder on the
table.
There was a faint pause, as though Hunter were waiting for
her to explain her lateness. She wasn’t about to do so.
“No problem,” he said, though the slight downward tug at
the corners of his mouth suggested the words came with some
difficulty. The frown disappeared almost instantly. “You look
like you’re nearly frozen,” he continued. “Let me buy you a nice,
hot cup of coffee.”
Kiera wondered if he could see her blush, hoped the coldinduced
redness of her cheeks hid it. She felt as though he were
seeing right through her, guessing why she had skipped the coat
and hat. “A hot cup of coffee would be heaven right now.”
“Your wish is my command,” he replied with a knowing
smile.
When Hunter turned his back and got in line, Kiera let out a
quiet breath of relief. What was the matter with her? She was
never nervous with men, not even men she hoped to date! She
was letting her mother’s soul mate fairy tales get to her.
Hunter soon returned with her coffee, dropping a pile of
sugar packets and a wooden stir on the table. She wrapped her
hands around the cup, letting the warmth seep through the thick
ceramic. Without a word, Hunter reached for the manila folder,
pulling it over to himself and flipping it open. He slid the pages
out of the folder, arraying them across the table for his perusal,
giving each a long, hard stare. Kiera had to remind herself to
breathe.
“You do nice work,” he said without looking at her.
“Thank you.” Damn, did her voice just quaver? She gulped
some coffee, burning her tongue in the process. “Is there one in
particular that strikes you as right?” She’d researched other
websites for spas and massage therapists, and then designed three
different schemes. One was highly professional, stressing the
therapeutic benefits and having an almost medical feel to it. One
stressed the relaxing tranquility. And one combined the other two
ideas with an overtone of sensuality, using warm colors and
slightly fuzzy images.
Somehow, Kiera was not surprised that Hunter seemed most
interested in that third scheme. He gave the other two a cursory
examination, then put them back in the folder.
“This is just the kind of image I had in mind,” he told her,
tapping one of the mockups. His finger landed on the picture of
a beautiful woman stretched out on a massage table. A sheet
covered her legs and came up just over her hips, and there was a
contented smile on her face.
Kiera couldn’t help noticing he was tapping right on the
woman’s ass, and somehow, she didn’t think it was a
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/21
coincidence. She tried not to think about her own body draping
across a massage table, waiting for the touch of those strong,
dangerous hands. Another sip of coffee seemed in order.
“Of course, that’s just a sample image,” she said. “I snagged
it from another website just so I could show you the basic idea.”
“Understood. I presume that you could find a similar image
in the public domain. Or must I hire a photographer and model?”
“No, I’m sure I can find something.”
He nodded briskly. “Good.” He tucked the remaining pages
into the folder and slid the folder back across the table to her.
“I’ve definitely chosen the right woman for the job,” he said,
resting his elbows on the table and regarding her with an
unsettling intensity.
“I’m glad you think so.” It was a lame reply, but she could
barely think with those eyes on her. She felt as though he were
stripping off her clothes, one slow layer at a time, unwrapping
her like a Christmas gift. Her mind filled with images of bare
skin and burning touches.
She blinked to dispel the images, looking instead into her
now nearly empty coffee cup. Still she felt his eyes on her, and
she squirmed under his scrutiny. Her discomfort slowly turned
into annoyance, and finally she looked up and met his eyes again.
“You’re pouring it on a little thick,” she told him, amazed
that she was able to force sound out of her throat. Annoyed she
might be, but it was hard to deny the way his regard made her
shiver deep inside.
Hunter looked startled, blinking and sitting back once more.
The surprise banished some of the sexual heat, and for just a
moment he looked like a normal—if insanely goodlooking—
human being. “What do you mean?” he asked, his eyes
all boyish innocence.
His attempt to deny it was even more annoying. No way in
hell Hunter was not aware he was coming on to her. The Irish
temper that she had inherited from her mother began to stir. She
swallowed a number of comments that would be highly
inappropriate with a client.
“Look,” she said, “I’m perfectly happy to design this website
for you, and I’m perfectly happy to meet for coffee like this to
discuss it, but I could do without all the smoldering looks, okay?”
“Smoldering looks?”
She rolled her eyes. His face just wasn’t made for feigned
innocence. “Yeah. You know, like this:” She let her lids slide
heavily halfway over her eyes and parted her lips in a parody of
a come-hither expression.
For a moment, he looked both surprised and offended, and
Kiera had a terrible fear that she’d been wrong and had just made
the worst kind of fool of herself. Then he laughed and shook his
head, but it was a self-deprecating laugh, not a mocking one.
Actually, that laughter had a warm, pleasant burr to it that made
her wish she could hear it more often.
“Sorry about that,” he said, still grinning. “I’m an
incorrigible flirt, I’m afraid. I’ll try to knock it off if it’s bugging
you.”
She would not have described what he was doing as flirting.
Flirting was light and fun and unthreatening, and she couldn’t
apply any of those words to the way Hunter had been looking at
her. What the hell was he after, anyway? It’s not like she was a
thing of beauty, and he didn’t know her well enough to be
interested in her for her personality.
“Thanks,” she said, unable to muster anything better. She
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/22
was beginning to wish she’d never taken this client on. There was
no doubt in her mind that he would continue his particularly
aggressive form of “flirting,” despite his promise.
If only she didn’t fear she might eventually fall for it!
Hunter sat at the table and fumed as he watched Kiera slip
out the door of the coffee shop and practically run across the
street to the square. She couldn’t get away from him fast enough,
apparently.
He’d never had that happen to him before, never had a
woman turn him down like that. He had thought for a moment
that her defenses were weakening, had thought the glamour and
his own personal appeal had become irresistible. How had she
managed to shrug it off? And how had she dared confront him
like that?
Hunter took a deep breath in an attempt to settle himself
down. He had time still. No need to rush these things, and after
all, with her fey blood he shouldn’t expect her to fall for him as
easily as other mortal women. But even as he thought these
comforting thoughts, someone slipped into the chair that Kiera
had recently vacated.
Hunter looked up to see Bane sitting across from him, an
ugly smirk on his ugly face. Hunter was really letting the mortal
woman get to him if he actually failed to notice Bane making an
entrance! The goblin had a cup of coffee in each hand and pushed
one across the table to Hunter.
“Trouble in paradise, Boyo?” Bane mocked, sipping his
coffee.
Several patrons in the shop were staring at the table in
distaste, for Bane’s ragged, filthy coat stank of sweat and alcohol
and urine. His hands were wrapped in raveled knit gloves with
the fingers torn off, and his hair was a snarled rat’s nest of oil and
debris.
Hunter hated the very thought that anyone might see him
talking to this degenerate. However, he had little choice in the
matter, and he refused to let Bane know he was uncomfortable.
So he shrugged and leaned back in his chair, stretching out his
long legs. “No trouble,” he said. “I’m just learning the lay of the
land.”
Bane snorted. “You’re supposed to be laying the woman,
remember?”
“I don’t interfere with your business. Keep out of this.”
“Can’t. The Queen wants her progress reports.”
Hunter had to fight to contain the stream of curses that
wished to escape. The last thing he needed right now was added
pressure to get the job done. And he hated to have Bane witness
his failure.
“So,” Bane prompted, grinning in pleasure at Hunter’s
discomfort, “got any progress to report?”
“This is only the second time I’ve met her. I’m working on
it.”
The goblin put his cup of coffee aside and leaned his elbows
on the table. “You’ve been here almost ten days, and you’ve only
met her twice?”
Hunter shrugged. “I’m posing as a client for her web design
business. I had to give her time to get the first assignment done.”
“You’re living in her building, in case you forgot. You don’t
need the client charade.”
Hunter narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists under the
table. “I know what I’m doing. And when was the last time you
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/23
seduced a woman?”
The amusement faded from Bane’s face, and he replaced it
with a look designed to freeze Hunter’s marrow. The goblin
leaned even closer, his foul breath making Hunter’s eyes water.
“When I want a woman, Prince, I don’t ask her permission.” The
glamour slipped enough that Hunter could make out the flash of
fangs behind the disguise.
His whole life, Hunter had had to mask his disgust for the
cruelties of the Unseelie Court. Only that long experience kept
him from recoiling now. “Well I do need this one’s permission,”
he said evenly. “I’ll have to bed her multiple times to make sure
I get her pregnant.”
Bane touched his tongue to one of his fangs. “We could just
snag her and bring her back to Faerie. You could fuck her at your
leisure until she’s pregnant, and you wouldn’t need permission.”
Hunter’s stomach churned at the thought, but still he kept his
voice calm and level. “She may be mortal, but she is Finvarra’s
daughter. There’s a reasonable chance she’s got enough Faerie
magic about her that she would not conceive if forced.” He had
no idea if that was true, but it didn’t seem impossible. She
probably had no idea that any magic clung to her, probably
couldn’t control it, but he’d seen flashes here and there.
Hunter waited as Bane digested the thought. His heart
thundered in his ears and his palms were sweating. If Bane were
to recommend this kidnaping idea to the Queen and if she were
to accept it, it would be an unmitigated disaster. Hunter knew that
he could never force himself on any woman, much less Kiera,
whom he had to admit he rather liked. If he couldn’t do it, both
he and Kiera would suffer horribly, maybe even fatally.
Bane nodded. “I suppose that possibility exists,” he
conceded, and Hunter let out a silent sigh of relief. The goblin
grinned again. “Besides, you wouldn’t be able to get it up to rape
her, so it wouldn’t do us any good.”
Hunter realized that the suggestion had been just another one
of Bane’s twisted mind games. He itched to unsheathe the knife
up his sleeve and bury it in the creature’s throat.
Bane shook his head. “You’re too easy, Prince. After all
these years, shouldn’t you know me well enough not to fall for it
every time I goad you?”
Hunter forced himself to relax, leaning back into his chair
once more. “Probably,” he agreed, pissed off at himself for
fueling the goblin’s amusement once more.
“Now, let’s get down to the real business, shall we?”
“What business would that be?”
“The Queen wants to see some sign of progress.”
“I told you, I’m working on it!”
“Well work faster.” Bane drained the remains of his coffee
cup, giving a pointed look at the cup he had passed to Hunter.
Hunter pushed the cup back across the table; he would never
dream of drinking anything the goblin had fouled with his touch.
Bane shrugged and gulped half the cup down.
“She’s set a deadline for you,” Bane said. “You have three
days to win your first kiss.”
Hunter told himself not to panic, but that didn’t stop the
sudden quickening of his pulse. Kiera was far too guarded with
him still. He couldn’t imagine how he could get her to lower her
guard enough to let him kiss her in three days. Hell, he didn’t
even think he could get her out on a date in that little time. He
shook his head.
“Too soon,” he said. “I need time to get her to trust me.” His
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/24
conscience stirred uncomfortably. He’d seduced women before,
but never with such a nefarious purpose, and he’d never violated
anyone’s trust like he planned to violate Kiera’s. If he succeeded,
he was going to feel tainted for the rest of his days.
“The Queen wants that kiss in three days. She is not overly
patient, as I’m sure you know.” Bane pushed his chair away from
the table and rose. “If you fail, she has authorized me to
administer discipline.” His eyes glowed suddenly with his lust for
pain. “Personally, I really hope you fail.”
Chuckling to himself, Bane casually wove his way through
the tables to the front door.
Three days was not enough, Hunter was sure of it. Not unless
he forced it somehow. After the way she brushed him off today,
there was no way she would go out on a date with him so soon.
It would be another week before she had enough work done on
the website to meet with him again. Somehow, he was going to
have to engineer a meeting before then, and it couldn’t be just a
brief elevator ride.
Struck by a sudden burst of inspiration, Hunter leapt from
his chair and hurried for the door. He glanced left and right, and
was relieved to see Bane ambling down the street not far away.
If the goblin had hailed a taxi, Hunter would never have caught
him.
“Bane!” he called, jogging down the pavement.
Bane looked both startled and amused, but he waited. Hunter
came to a stop upwind. “Do you know anything about elevators?”
Hunter asked.
The puzzlement in Bane’s face was almost enough to make
Hunter laugh despite the seriousness of the situation.
“Elevators?” Bane repeated.
“Yeah. As in, would you be able to rig one to get stuck.”
Aside from their skills at murder and mayhem, goblins had a
natural affinity for things mechanical.
Bane nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I could do that. And I
suppose you would want to be able to trigger the failure at a
convenient moment?”
“That’s the idea.”
Bane grinned. “And you would trust me to actually help you
meet the deadline?”
Hunter grimaced. “Hell no. But you’re not an idiot, and you
don’t want to taste the Queen’s wrath any more than I do. If you
sabotage my efforts, she will know, and you will pay.”
Even the glamour and the disguise couldn’t hide the effect
that reminder had on the goblin. Bane’s grin disappeared, and he
managed a tight nod. “I’ll bring the toy tomorrow. And I
guarantee it will work.”
For a fleeting moment, Hunter and Bane were in sympathy
with one another, each dreading the repercussions of failure.
Then Bane turned his back and hurried away.
Chapter 4
“All right, out with it,” Jackson said, and Kiera froze with a
morsel of sweet and sour chicken halfway to her mouth.
They were sitting at their usual table in their favorite Chinese
restaurant. Kiera had called him not long after this afternoon’s
meeting with Hunter, feeling the need for his warm, familiar
comfort. She’d thought she was doing a good job of acting
normal, but now Jackson was giving her one of those knowing
looks.
“Out with what?” she asked.
He jabbed a chopstick in her direction. “Don’t think you can
put one over on me, young lady,” he scolded. “Your face is like
an open book to me. So give.”
She sighed and lowered her fork to her plate. Maybe she’d
asked Jackson to dinner because she actually wanted to talk.
“You know that sexy client I was telling you about?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Quit grinning at me like that.”
“Don’t get sidetracked. What about the sexy client?”
Kiera fidgeted, wondering why this whole thing made her so
uncomfortable. It wasn’t like she was a teenager! She’d dated her
fair share of men, should be able to handle this kind of attention.
But none of those men had been anything like Hunter.
“He’s coming on to me,” she admitted. “Not in any real
blatant way or anything, but he’s given me enough smoldering
glances to give me third degree burns.”
Jackson looked distinctly amused. “And the problem with
this is . . .”
She frowned, wondering yet again exactly what her problem
was. True, she thought it was ethically questionable to date a
client, but it wasn’t like she was his therapist or anything. There
was no objective reason she could name for why she found the
thought of dating him so unnerving. Not that he’d actually asked
her for a date or anything.
“I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something . . . wrong
with him.”
Jackson raised an elegant brow. “Wrong in what way?”
She grunted in frustration. “That’s just it: I don’t know.” She
pushed her plate away, realizing she couldn’t eat anymore. “For
one thing, he just flat out does not look like a massage therapist.”
Jackson laughed. “And what exactly does a massage therapist
look like?”
She shook her head, refusing to be goaded by his
amusement. “It’s not that there’s any particular look massage
therapists have; it’s just that he has a particular look that screams
he’s not a massage therapist.”
“Uh-huh,” Jackson said, looking at her like she’d gone nuts.
She couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t explaining this well at
all. Which was no surprise, as she couldn’t seem to straighten the
thoughts out in her own head. “The man wears nothing but
designer clothes,” she tried again. “He wears a full-length black
leather coat.”
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/26
“Ah, so massage therapists have no fashion sense!” Jackson
said. “Now I understand what you’re trying to tell me.”
“A little less mockery and a little more friendly
understanding would be appreciated.”
His eyes still twinkled with amusement. “When you say
something I understand, I’ll give you the friendly understanding.”
“All right, let me put it to you this way: how many dropdead
gorgeous, filthy rich, straight men do you know who do
massage for a living?”
He no longer looked quite so amused, and Kiera was glad to
see he was actually putting some thought into the situation. “All
right,” he said slowly. “I’ll concede that what you’ve described
doesn’t match the stereotype. But what is it that you suspect?”
She shook her head. “Damn it, I don’t know! All I know is
that all my instincts tell me something is off about the guy.”
“And one of the things that’s off is that you don’t think he’s
really a massage therapist.”
“I know it sounds like some kind of ridiculous, paranoid
conspiracy theory. And I’m sure this is all just my imagination
running wild. But I can’t shake the feeling, so when he starts
pouring on the charm it just makes me that much more nervous.
I mean, come on, Jackson: I’m not the kind of woman a man like
that chases.”
Jackson blinked in surprise as he poured them each a fresh
cup of green tea. “Why ever not?”
“Don’t be silly,” she scoffed. “I’m a long way from anyone’s
ideal of beauty. And no, I’m not fishing for compliments or an
ego boost.”
He cocked his head as he looked at her, his brows drawn
together in earnest concentration. “I don’t think men are quite as
shallow as you seem to think. You know, if I give an honest
assessment of my own appearance, I’d say my nose is too big, my
eyes are too far apart, my hair’s too thin. I’ve still managed to
attract the attention of some absolute knockouts. There’s more to
this love and dating stuff than meets the eye, and you don’t have
to be Miss America for a guy to be attracted to you.”
She nodded half-heartedly. She couldn’t deny the truth of his
statements, but that didn’t make her unease go away.
“Eureka!” Jackson cried suddenly, loud enough to make her
jump and to make several other patrons in the restaurant look in
their direction.
“Uh-oh. I don’t like the evil glitter in your eyes.”
His grin broadened. “I’ve thought of a way to settle the
question of whether he really is who he says he is.”
“Oh?” She was intrigued in spite of herself.
“Do you have one of his business cards?”
She frowned, trying to figure out where he was heading and
failing miserably. “Not on me, but I have a couple in my
apartment.”
“You know, I’ve been having this terrible trouble with my
back lately.”
“Uh-oh,” she repeated.
“So kind of you to refer me to a massage therapist!”
“What are friends for?”
He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “I’ll try to get
an appointment with him, and I’ll really camp it up.” He’d been
sitting in a casual slouch, but now he straightened to sit primly on
the edge of his chair. The lines of his face seemed to rearrange
themselves before her eyes as he molded his expression into
something vaguely pouty looking.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/27
Usually, when Jackson wasn’t dressed for effect, a stranger
would be hard-pressed to realize he was gay. It wasn’t that he
tried to hide it or anything, but he didn’t particularly flaunt it
either. Strange how with only a change in posture and facial
expression, he’d managed to make it unmistakable.
“If Mr. Macho Stud can give me a massage,” he said, his
voice suddenly pitched higher and his hands punctuating his
speech, “then you’d have to admit he’s the genuine article. No
straight man would let me get naked within a hundred yards of
him if he’s not an honest-to-God massage therapist.”
She laughed out loud at the mischievous twinkle in his eye.
She tried to imagine Hunter putting his hands on Jackson’s naked
back, and she had to agree that if anything could flush him out,
that would be it.
“Thanks for humoring me, Jackson,” she said.
He picked up his cup of tea, his pinky pointing daintily
outward. “You don’t have to thank me, darling,” he lilted. “I plan
on enjoying myself.”
Hunter prowled his apartment, nerves jumping and singing
as he obsessed about his meeting with Bane. How long would his
mother give him to complete his quest? Three days to win a kiss
didn’t sound too unreasonable, but how soon afterwards would
she expect Kiera to fall into his bed? And what would she do to
him if he failed?
He shuddered. He’d come to the mortal world brimming
with confidence, sure that Kiera would have no chance against
his charms. He had not been prepared for her resistance. Nor, he
had to admit, had he been prepared to like her. He’d bedded
mortal women before, and never had even the prettiest of them
managed to touch him in any but the most superficial way. He’d
assumed he was incapable of feeling more than lust for a woman.
Before Kiera, his full palette of emotions had seemed to comprise
lust and hatred and little else.
Cursing his mortal father for falling into the Faerie Queen’s
arms and siring him, Hunter opened a bottle of Chivas. He’d
stocked his bar with expensive liquor, planning to use the alcohol
to aid his seduction schemes, but now he needed it himself.
Feeling decadent and dissolute, he held the bottle to his lips and
downed a big swallow.
He wished he hadn’t let himself think of his father, because
as usual his mind spiraled out of control and conjured memories
best buried. Memories of a warm smile, of kind words and real
affection. Memories of feeling safe, of knowing someone stood
between him and the terrifying hordes of the Unseelie Court.
Bittersweet memories that always led him down the same road,
to the memory of the execution.
His father had somehow managed to shake off the seduction
spells the Queen of Air and Darkness had woven around him. He
had snatched his seven-year-old son and fled the Queen’s palace,
making for the nearest faerie circle in hopes of escaping into the
mortal world. The endeavor had been doomed from the start.
The Queen’s executions were never quick, never clean. She
ruled her Court with terror, and her mortal consort paid a terrible
price for his betrayal. And Hunter had been forced to bear
witness to the entire ordeal.
His father was bound, naked, to the whipping posts that
loomed ever in the palace courtyard, a reminder of the price of
displeasing the Queen. Each day for a full week, the Queen
ordered her consort flogged. Bane, wielding the whip, had
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/28
stripped every inch of skin from the poor mortal’s back, while
Hunter stood in his mother’s arms, her hand holding his head so
that he could not look away. Each night, she used her magic to
heal the wounds so that her victim would live to suffer more.
After the seventh flogging, she’d declared it was finally time
for Hunter’s father to die. It still wasn’t quick. Bane used a knife,
inflicting wound after wound, none serious enough to kill.
In the end, his father had finally escaped the torture by
bleeding to death. Afterward, Hunter had his first taste of the
whip himself, as a reminder that he, too, was subject to the
Queen’s discipline.
Hunter tilted the bottle to his mouth and practically choked
himself with a huge gulp. Unlike his father, Hunter was
immortal, and if the Queen ever decided to execute him, his body
could endure much more terrible tortures.
Ruthlessly, he pulled himself back together. It didn’t matter
how much he liked Kiera, and it didn’t matter how bad it made
him feel to lie to her. He would do what he had to do because the
alternative was too terrible to contemplate.
The doorbell rang, and every nerve in Hunter’s body came
alive. This would undoubtedly be Bane, bringing the device that
would stop the elevator. Hunter’s heart pounded. He took deep,
slow breaths, trying to calm himself. Bane rang again, and Hunter
went to the door, aware that his movements had taken on a
predatory glide. The knife slipped out of its sheath in his sleeve.
The dire need to avenge his father was a palpable force, urging
him to fling the door open and drive his knife into the goblin’s
throat.
Luckily, some hint of rationality remained, despite the
alcohol, and Hunter resheathed the knife before he opened the
door. He wasn’t able to school his expression, however, and
Bane, with his unerring recognition of pain, grinned.
Hunter swallowed hard. “I’m warning you, Bane,” he said in
a low growl, “goad me now, and I’ll kill you. The knowledge that
I’ll suffer for it won’t give you any satisfaction if you’re dead.”
The goblin’s grin widened. “Thinking about dear old Dad,
eh?”
Hunter’s whole body was shaking with the effort to control
himself. “I’m not kidding!”
Bane moved with surprising quickness, planting a hand in
the center of Hunter’s chest and giving him a mighty shove.
Unprepared, Hunter couldn’t keep his balance. He fell hard and
scrambled to his feet in time to see Bane slip into the apartment
and close the door behind him.
Somehow, the knife seemed to have slipped out of its sheath
again, and Hunter brandished it. Bane just shook his head.
“Now is not the time, Boyo,” the goblin said. “Someday,
you’n me’ll have it out. But not yet.”
Hunter was sweating as he battled himself. He’d never felt
anything like the hot rage that coursed through his blood right
now. Always before, his anger had been a slow, controlled burn.
Bane came slowly closer, holding his hands out to his sides,
palms open. “You probably shouldn’t drink when you know
you’re going to be around me,” he said, his voice maddeningly
calm. “Not good for your self-control. Now put the knife away.”
Hunter curled his lip away from his teeth, wishing briefly he
had goblin fangs to add to the menace of the expression. The
knife was the only thing keeping Bane from retaliating, and
Hunter sure as hell wasn’t giving up his only advantage.
“Remember yesterday?” Bane asked. “You said I wasn’t an
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/29
idiot. Well, you’re right, I’m not. You’re drunk and out of
control. I’m not going to goad you or hurt you when there’s a
good chance you’ll kill me for it. So put the knife away—you
really don’t need it.”
The damned goblin sounded . . . reasonable. Hunter drew in
a deep breath, trying to dispel some of the coiled tension. His
nerves were still vibrating with the need for action, but he forced
himself to withdraw the knife.
“Good boy,” Bane said, but he said it lightly enough not to
trigger Hunter’s rage. He reached into his bedraggled, filthy coat
and pulled out something about the size of a ballpoint pen. “Just
press the trigger here,” he said, pointing to a button on the penlike
device, “and the elevator will come to a stop. Make sure
you’re between floors when you trigger it, or they’ll be able to
pry the doors open.”
Hunter took the device from Bane’s hand and tucked it into
his shirt pocket. He wasn’t about to thank the goblin, but at least
he was beginning to feel more like himself. He thought he might
even be able withstand an insult without going over the edge.
“Happy hunting, Prince,” Bane said, nodding briefly before
heading for the door.
“Bane.” The goblin turned toward him and raised an
eyebrow. “What makes you think we’ll ever be able to have it out
without the Queen making the winner wish he’d lost?”
The look Bane gave him was strangely thoughtful, and he
didn’t answer immediately. Then he shrugged, as if coming to
some internal agreement. “I’m a goblin, Boyo. My life follows a
script, one I didn’t write. But I’ve had an advance glimpse or
two—enough to know that you’ll kill me one day.”
Hunter was so surprised he practically jumped. He hadn’t
expected a real answer, certainly hadn’t expected this answer.
“I don’t know what will happen to you when you do,” Bane
continued. “It’s my own future I see, not yours.” The nasty light
returned to his eyes. “Believe me, I plan on making you regret it
even if the Queen doesn’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a
report to make, and I’m running late.”
Hunter stood frozen in place for a long time after Bane had
gone.
Cradling the bag of groceries against her chest, Kiera gave
the doorman her usual smile and thanks as she headed toward the
elevators. She noticed the sexy bay-leaf-and-sandalwood scent
she’d come to associate with Hunter even before she turned the
corner and saw him.
He was standing with arms folded across his chest, watching
the lights that indicated the progress of the elevators. One foot
was slightly in front of the other, his weight settling into one hip,
and the light hit his upturned face in a way that highlighted his
clean, masculine lines. If Kiera hadn’t known better, she would
have sworn he was posing for her.
At the rustle of her grocery bag, he dragged his attention
away from the lights and focused on her. The regard of those blue
eyes chilled and warmed her simultaneously. Then he smiled, and
the chill disappeared.
“Why hello there!” he said. “Here, let me carry that for you.”
Before she had a chance to protest, he had taken the grocery
bag out of her arms.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, reaching for the bag.
Hunter turned his body so she couldn’t reach the bag. “Come
on, accept a little chivalry. I promise to give it back.”
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/30
She shook her head, but she didn’t want to make a scene.
“All right, all right.”
The elevator finally arrived. Hunter held the heavy grocery
bag easily in one arm and trapped the elevator door open. “Ladies
first.”
She stifled a sigh, her insides cringing at the thought of
sharing so small a space with him. Here we go again, she
thought, exasperated with herself. She stepped into the tiny
elevator, Hunter right behind her. When the doors slid closed, the
elevator suddenly seemed even smaller, as though Hunter took up
more than his fair share of the available air and space. She
pressed the button for the tenth floor, then pressed nine as well at
Hunter’s request.
The elevator groaned piteously, then started to ascend.
Hunter was watching the progress of the glowing numbers over
the door. Kiera tried to do so as well, but her eyes kept straying.
The small space was filled with the scent of his cologne and the
even more masculine scent of his leather coat. His lips wore a
Mona Lisa smile. He still held the grocery bag in one arm, his
other hand resting inside his coat pocket. Kiera’s pulse quickened
for no reason she could name.
Hunter turned his face away from the numbers, meeting her
eyes. His smile became even more enigmatic. He looked like he
was about to say something, but suddenly the elevator made
another of its dramatic moaning sounds. The moan turned to a
whine, then a metallic bang. The elevator lurched to a stop, and
the lights went out.
Kiera gasped, grabbing the railing against the elevator’s back
wall. The car had gone completely black, and her skin crawled
with superstitious terror. Her nerves told her the darkness hid
something feral and dangerous, and she found herself pressed
tightly into the corner, her eyes fighting to penetrate the darkness.
The grocery bag rustled. “Kiera?” Hunter’s voice asked.
“Are you all right?”
Her heart was now pounding in earnest, and a nervous sweat
bathed her. She’d never been particularly afraid of the dark
before, nor had she been claustrophobic. The small part of her
mind that was still rational wondered why she was reacting so
badly to the dark, confined space. The rest of her mind just
gibbered.
Hunter’s leather coat creaked as he moved closer, and she
fought the image of a predator homing in on her.
“Kiera?” he asked again, his voice the gentle murmur one
would use with a frightened animal.
She couldn’t gather enough moisture in her mouth to respond
to him. Then, his hand touched her arm and a startled shriek
escaped her. She tried to jerk her arm away, but his strong fingers
closed around her and held tight.
“Take it easy,” he soothed. “There’s nothing to worry about.
I’m sure they’ll get us out of here in no time.”
The scent of him made her dizzy, filling her senses. She
drew in a shuddering breath, trying desperately to calm herself.
She could feel the heat of his body, standing too close to her. His
hand slid up her arm to her shoulder, and she swayed. God, she
was going to pass out!
“Sit,” Hunter commanded, pushing down on her shoulder.
Her knees were too weak to hold her up anyway, so she slid
her back along the wall of the elevator until her butt hit the floor.
She bowed her head and concentrated on breathing. Hunter’s
hand slid from her shoulder to her neck, powerful fingers
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/31
kneading the tight muscles there. The scent of leather and spice
enveloped her, and she realized he was sitting on the floor of the
elevator with her.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he crooned, his voice
almost hypnotic.
Her mind screamed at her that there was. And yet her body
seemed to have a will of its own. She leaned closer to him, until
she felt the heat of him all along her left side. He pressed her
closer into the corner, trapping her with his body. His fingers
continued to dig into the muscles of her neck and shoulders,
loosening the knots with consummate skill.
“Funny, but I never would have pegged you as
claustrophobic,” he said. “You seem like you wouldn’t be afraid
of anything.”
Somehow, she found her voice again. “I’m not
claustrophobic. I’ve never had anything like this happen before.”
“Is it the dark, then?”
Damn him, he sounded amused! She realized with startling
certainty that her strange reaction had nothing to do with the
close space or the dark: it had to do with him. But she could
hardly tell him that. She swallowed hard, the panic less now
though her heart still pounded.
“I don’t know,” she lied. “I don’t know what’s the matter
with me.”
“Here, why don’t we move away from the wall so I can use
both hands.”
She realized she was pressing into the hand that massaged
her neck. Her cheeks flamed, and she was glad for the darkness
that hid it. She shook her head. “It’s all right.”
He sighed in apparent exasperation. “Kiera, you’re so tight
you feel like a rubber band about to snap. Let me try to help.
There’s no telling how long we’ll be trapped in here. And
remember, I do this for a living.”
Arguing would take more energy than she had, so she
allowed him to maneuver her into a more advantageous position,
her feet against the wall and her back angled toward the center of
the elevator. In the darkness behind her, she heard him stirring,
his coat making that distinctive leather rustling sound as he
removed it. Then, his hands descended on her shoulders, and she
concentrated on how good they felt as they worked on the tight
muscles.
After less than a minute, his hands stilled, and Kiera had to
stifle a cry of protest.
“This would be a lot more effective if you took your coat
off,” he said.
His voice was practically in her ear, and she shivered in the
heat. Her hands plucked at the buttons of her coat, independent
of her desires. When the last button popped free, Hunter dragged
the coat from her shoulders. Underneath, she was wearing a
simple white button-down shirt. When his hands descended on
her once more, the pleasure was ten times more intense.
Kiera closed her eyes against the darkness, leaning into
Hunter’s glorious hands, breathing his scent. Her head felt cloudy
and strange, almost as though she were drunk, or hypnotized. He
slid one hand up the center of her back until it rested on the bare
skin at the nape of her neck. She shivered again, goose bumps
rising all over her body. Those strong, agile fingers pressed more
lightly now, the pressure something between a massage and a
caress.
Kiera swallowed hard, trying in vain to shake off the haze
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/32
that had settled over her mind. Her pulse was speeding, her
breaths coming shallow. Hunter’s fingers dipped lower, slipping
under the collar of her blouse. She had to bite her lip to suppress
a moan. Her breasts were aching, the nipples turning hard. The
movement of his fingers took on a steady rhythm that brought to
her mind the rhythm of the bed. The ache sank lower, gathering
between her legs. She squeezed her thighs tightly together, trying
to deny the wildly inappropriate arousal.
She was aware of Hunter moving closer behind her, felt the
heat radiating from his body. Then she felt the warmth of his
breath against her cheek. He kept stroking her neck, the rhythm
now unmistakably sexual. He touched his lips lightly to her
shoulder, his lips burning her skin through the cotton. A little
gasp escaped her despite all her efforts to contain it. His hand
finally withdrew from under her collar, moving down her back
again, joined by his other hand.
When his hands moved to her shoulder blades, instinct told
her they would continue moving until they cupped her breasts.
Her nipples puckered tighter at the thought and the ache between
her legs worsened. His hands began their slow assault, slipping
around under her arms. She wanted his touch so badly she felt
near to screaming for it.
Kiera’s eyes popped open in the darkness. This was not like
her at all! She did not let men she barely knew grope her in
elevators! The desire raging unabated in her core, she managed
to clamp her arms down and trap his hands at her sides.
“Don’t,” she croaked, though she wasn’t even sure her voice
was audible.
Hunter froze, his hands pinned to her sides though she knew
he could easily break her hold. He fairly radiated with masculine
strength. Hell, he could do anything to her he wanted and she
would have little say about it.
He let out a frustrated sigh and withdrew his hands, resting
them lightly on her shoulders. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m afraid
I got a little carried away.”
The clouds were fading from her mind, her brain kicking
back into gear. A shiver shook her entire body as she realized
how out of control she had been. She was still wet, her nipples
still hard, but she couldn’t imagine how she’d ended up in such
a mindless haze. What was happening to her?
To her amazement, Kiera felt tears building in her eyes. She
tried to fight them off, but she had no more success against the
tears than she’d had against the lust. Her shoulders began to
shake and she felt Hunter’s sudden tension in his hands.
“Are you crying?” he asked in a voice that sounded
absolutely appalled.
She wanted to deny it, but her throat was too tight and
clogged, and she sniffled loudly instead. Hunter’s arms swept
around her in an embrace that held none of the smouldering
sexuality of his previous touches.
“Oh, Kiera, please don’t cry,” he begged. “I’m so sorry. I
didn’t mean to frighten you.”
The anguish in his voice reminded her that she was
overreacting. Badly! After all, he had stopped the moment she’d
asked him to. It certainly wasn’t his fault that she lusted after him
in ways she didn’t understand. And it wasn’t as if she were some
blushing virgin. Really, what would have been the harm if he had
felt her up? How ridiculous that she was in tears!
“Don’t be sorry,” she said. Her voice was hoarse, but she
was reining in the tears. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/33
these days. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He sighed again. “Yes I did.”
Hunter didn’t elaborate on that mysterious comment, and
moments later the lights came back on. He helped her to her feet
and held her coat for her. She could barely look at him, she was
so humiliated by her overreaction. The elevator groaned back to
life, starting its slow ascent once more.
Hunter cupped her chin in one hand and raised her head. His
brows were drawn together in concern, and there was something
haunted-looking in his deep blue eyes as he used his other hand
to brush the remaining tears off her cheeks. His jaw set firmly
and he looked grim.
“I’ll never do that again,” he promised her. “I’m very sorry.”
She tried to speak, to tell him he had no reason to be sorry, but
his fingers moved from her cheek to her lips to silence her. “It
was unconscionable of me to take advantage of you under the
circumstances.”
Kiera gently freed herself from his grip. “You didn’t do
anything, Hunter. Don’t worry: I won’t be traumatized for life by
what you almost did.” She tried a jaunty grin as the elevator came
to a stop on the ninth floor. She didn’t think it was very
convincing.
Hunter gathered his coat from the floor, draping it over his
arm. He paused for a moment in the doorway, staring at her with
an intensity that made her nervous. The elevator tried to close on
him, whining when the door hit him in the back and was forced
to retreat. With a faint shake of his head, he stepped into the hall.
Kiera told herself not to read too much into the strange blend
of relief and regret that flooded her when the doors closed behind
him.
Hunter sat heavily on the plush couch in his living room,
staring at the intricate pattern of the Persian rug at his feet. His
heart felt like a lump of lead in his chest. In his mind’s eye, he
kept seeing the shimmer of tears in Kiera’s eyes. His hands
remembered the feel of her under them, remembered the terrible
shudder that had seized her when she’d somehow shrugged off
the glamour.
He had had her, her mind so fogged by desire that she would
happily have let him screw her right there on the floor of the
elevator. His manhood instantly swelled and hardened at the
thought. He squashed the arousal easily by remembering again
her distress. Never mind how she had managed to escape the
glamour! When she’d come out of it, she’d been wounded by its
effects.
All he had needed, all he had wanted out of that encounter
had been a single kiss to appease his mother. Even after she had
shaken the glamour, he suspected he could have taken that kiss.
She’d been in enough distress that a gentle, conciliatory kiss
would have slipped in past her guard.
But when he’d seen the damage he’d done to her psyche by
trying to coerce her with glamour, he’d found himself unable to
take advantage of the opportunity. Damn it, he liked her! He
didn’t want to hurt her.
Hunter rubbed his hands nervously on his pants legs. The
deadline for winning his first kiss was tomorrow. Even if he
managed to arrange an encounter for them tomorrow, her
defenses would be back up. Would, in fact, be stronger than ever
before. By refraining this afternoon, he had doomed himself.
He tried not to let his mind go there, but it was impossible
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/34
not to speculate on just how the Queen would punish him for his
failure. Bane had said that he would administer the punishment,
which suggested that whatever it was, Hunter would not be
dragged back to Faerie for it. The Queen needed him whole to do
the duties she had assigned him, and if he was not in Faerie then
she couldn’t use her healing magic on him. So, whatever was in
store was something that would not maim or mark him.
Hunter told himself that there was only so much pain Bane
could inflict without maiming or marking him. He told himself
that he could bear it. He told himself he had endured worse.
He was lying, and he knew it.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/35
Chapter 5
Kiera felt uncommonly stupid trying to explain to Jackson
the bizarre reaction she’d had to being trapped in the elevator
with Hunter. She was sitting cross-legged on his sinfully plush
couch, sipping from a bottle of one of his home-brewed beers. He
lounged on the sofa beside her, his elbow propped on the back of
the sofa as his head rested on his hand. He seemed to be taking
her seriously, for there was no hint of a smile on his lips or in his
eyes.
“I presume this is the first time you’d ever been trapped in
an elevator?” he asked.
“Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?”
He shrugged. “Maybe nothing. I’m just saying that just
because you’re not claustrophobic doesn’t mean you wouldn’t get
freaked out by being trapped in an elevator, even if you’d been
alone. Or with me.”
Kiera took another sip of beer, trying to convince herself that
Jackson was right. It didn’t work. “I can’t shake the feeling that
it was more than that. Jackson, I didn’t feel freaked out by the
dark or the enclosed space—I felt freaked out by knowing he was
in there with me.”
“So, you think he’s an axe murderer or something?”
“Don’t make fun! I don’t know what I think. I only know
that this is all very strange.”
He gave her a gentle smile. “I wasn’t making fun. I’m just
trying to figure out exactly what kind of vibes this guy is putting
out.”
She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “You sound like my
mom, talking about auras and crap. The guy isn’t putting out
‘vibes.’ I’m just acting like a basket-case.” She was even more
annoyed with herself than she let on. She had firmly forbidden
herself from talking about this with anyone, fearing that talking
about it would make it seem more real. Now here she was
spilling her guts.
He dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “I respect your
instincts more than you do. If he’s creeping you out this bad, I
bet there’s a reason for it. You’ve just got to figure out what that
reason is.”
“If I have such good instincts, why have I dated so many
losers?”
“Wishful thinking trumps instinct.”
She winced. “Ouch.”
“Hey, I tell it like it is. And as I’m sure you’ve noticed, I
don’t do much better.” He gave her knee an encouraging squeeze.
As if taking a cue from his master, Nuriev, one of Jackson’s five
cats, butted his head against Kiera’s shin.
Kiera’s nose itched with an impending sneeze, but she stifled
it by sheer willpower. She’d taken an antihistamine before
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/36
coming over, so she figured the sneeze was just power of
suggestion. To prove the point to herself, she reached down and
scratched behind Nuriev’s ears. The throbbing purr brought a
smile to her lips.
“Have you told your mom about the mysterious Mr.
Teague?” Jackson asked.
She blinked. “My mom? Why would I tell her?”
The grin was back. “Well, she’s kind of an expert on things
weird, isn’t she?”
She gave him a narrow-eyed glare. “Very funny. You’re a
real comedian.”
“I wasn’t kidding. Look, I know you think she’s a goof, but
she does know a lot about the supernatural.”
Her glare deepened. “I never said there was anything
supernatural about this! What a ridiculous idea.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You said yourself you can’t explain
your reaction to him. I’ve never known you to be intimidated or
unnerved by a man before. Something about him has set you off,
and if you can’t find a logical reason, is it so ridiculous to
consider other more unlikely reasons?”
“Yes, it is.” Jackson had never seemed to find her mother as
outrageous as she did, but she never imagined he’d take it this far
or she wouldn’t have said a word. She shuddered to think what
her mother might say.
“Maybe you should try keeping your mind ajar, even if you
can’t quite manage open.”
“Thank you very much for the advice, Jackson, but I am not
talking to my mother about this. Knowing her, she’d decide this
means Hunter is my Mr. Right and start making wedding plans.”
Jackson gave her a speculative look. “If I actually call him
to make that massage appointment like we talked about, and he
turns me down, would you allow at least the possibility that your
instincts might be right?”
“I suppose,” she agreed grudgingly.
“And if your instincts might be right, do you think you could
bite the bullet and ask your mom what she thinks might be going
on?”
Kiera gave him her most stubborn look. “I still don’t see
what my mom has to do with this.”
“Hey, it’s probably going to turn out there’s nothing fishy
about him at all. I’ll probably call for an appointment, get a
massage, and be out eighty bucks. The least you can do is humor
me if he acts suspicious.”
“I have a bad feeling about this,” she muttered.
Jackson parodied her stubborn expression. “That’s the deal,
take it or leave it.”
Telling herself that Jackson was undoubtedly right and
nothing strange would happen, she finally agreed.
Hunter had spent a very long and sleepless night, trying not
to think about what was to come and failing miserably. He was
up and pacing his apartment well before dawn, his nerves strung
so tight he couldn’t manage to choke down any breakfast. When
in the late morning his doorbell finally rang, it was almost a
relief.
For a brief moment, Hunter considered not answering the
door. But hiding behind the closed door of his apartment would
smack of cowardice, and he wasn’t going to give Bane the
satisfaction of seeing him scared.
When Hunter opened the door, he discovered that Bane was
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/37
not alone today—he’d brought two other goblins. Neither one
looked delighted with his assignment. Hunter treated them to a
chilling glare, and they looked even less happy.
Bane flashed a toothy grin. “Top of the morning to you,
Prince,” he said as he shouldered Hunter aside and entered the
apartment, his henchmen following reluctantly.
Hunter closed the door and turned to face the goblins. Bane
dropped the glamour completely, standing before him in all his
goblin ugliness, his body short and squat and powerful, his skin
a dead-looking shade of gray, his eyes bulging and glowing with
malice.
Bane pulled his lips away from his teeth, displaying his
mouthful of fangs. “Well?” he asked with a sneer. “Any progress
to report?”
Hunter crossed his arms and stood straight and tall, looking
down at the goblin from his superior height. “No.” He could have
tried lying, but the Queen had undoubtedly provided the goblin
with a spell to detect lies.
“Such a shame,” the goblin said, his eyes even more eager.
“Her Majesty will be most disappointed in you.”
Hunter unsheathed his knife with a flick of his wrist. Bane’s
henchmen flinched, but Bane just looked amused. He chuckled
and pulled a roll of duct tape from his oversized coat. “Hold out
your hands with your wrists together.”
Hunter’s lips curled into a very goblin-like smile as he
brandished the knife. “Make me.”
Bane rolled his bulging eyes. “You really want to make
things worse?”
Hunter shrugged as though it didn’t matter to him one way
or another. “I’m curious to see how you plan to restrain me
without maiming me.”
“Easy. Three against one. You can count, can’t you Boyo?”
If he’d had his sword, the odds would be heavily in Hunter’s
favor. But the little silver knife was only marginally useful
against the three heavy, powerful goblins. Still, Hunter was in no
mood to go down without a fight. Bane read his intentions and
shook his head, tucking the roll of tape back into his coat pocket.
His henchmen looked at Hunter nervously, and he scented fear in
the air.
“One more chance, Prince,” Bane said. “Resist now, and I’m
sure the Queen will make you pay for it later.”
Maybe so, but at least Hunter would still have his pride.
“Come and get me,” he taunted, letting the adrenaline of battle
overcome his own fear. He crouched at the ready, eager to spill
some goblin blood.
Bane took a step toward him, but his henchmen held back.
“Who are you more afraid of?” Bane snarled at them. “Him? Or
the Queen?”
The answer was obvious as all three goblins rushed Hunter
at once. He slashed at the closest one, but Bane barreled into his
legs at the same time, and Hunter managed no more than a
shallow cut before he found himself buried under three stinking
goblin bodies. They were heavy enough that he couldn’t pitch
them off. A knee pressed brutally into his groin, sapping his
strength. By the time he’d recovered his breath, his knife was out
of reach, and his wrists were bound by duct tape.
Bane sat on him and bound his ankles while one of the other
goblins stood on a chair and screwed a large hook into the
ceiling. Bane tied a length of rope over Hunter’s already-bound
wrists, then tossed the other end of the rope to the goblin on the
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/38
chair. Hunter found himself being dragged to his feet, his arms
stretched over his head by the rope, which was tied to the hook
in the ceiling. He concentrated on calming the adrenaline surge
that had sustained him through the brief struggle. He needed to
breathe easy, rein himself in, turn his mind inward to gain some
detachment from whatever was about to happen.
His fragile composure was tested when Bane pulled off
another length of tape, reaching toward Hunter’s face with the
obvious intention of taping his mouth shut.
“You don’t need that and you know it!” Hunter snapped. He
had learned early in life that crying out during a punishment was
the surest way to make it even worse. He had taught himself to
endure in silence, and he had taught himself well.
The goblin just laughed. “Don’t want to upset the neighbors
now, do we?” He moved in again, and slapped the length of tape
over Hunter’s mouth.
“Let’s see what kind of fun we can have without marking or
damaging you,” Bane said, and his henchmen backed off to
watch the master at work. Their fear had evaporated now that
Hunter was helpless. Their eyes glowed with bloodlust, and one
of them was literally drooling.
Bane put his hands on Hunter’s abdomen, thick, strong
fingers poking and prodding. Hunter wondered what the hell he
was doing.
Bane gave a little grunt of satisfaction and his hands stilled.
He moved his left hand up fractionally, then made a fist of his
right and punched Hunter right below where his hand rested.
The pain was stunning, dragging Hunter’s consciousness out
of the cocoon he’d been building around it. He closed his eyes
and clenched his jaw, every instinct in his body screaming at him
to double over and protect himself. That instinct caused him to
fight against the restraint despite his sure knowledge that he
could not free himself. The goblins laughed.
“Liked that, did you?” Bane asked. “Let’s make it a matched
set, shall we?” He felt along Hunter’s abdomen some more until
he found the same spot on the other side.
Knowing what to expect this time, Hunter tried to brace
himself, but it was no good. By the time the waves of pain
receded to a manageable level, his body was drenched in sweat.
Bane continued his slow, methodical exploration of Hunter’s
body, fingers probing for the most sensitive and vulnerable spots
so he could deliver brutal jabs. He made a full circle of Hunter’s
midsection, each blow as excruciating as the last, until Hunter
had trouble forcing his knees to support him.
“You’re sweating like a pig, Prince,” Bane said when he had
worked his way around to the front again. “Am I being too rough
with you?” His eyes gleamed with pleasure, and his smile made
Hunter’s stomach churn. “I’ll be more gentle on this lap.”
Again Bane probed for those sensitive spots, only this time
each of them ached from his previous abuse. When he found
them, instead of hitting them again, he merely used pressure from
his strong fingers to reawaken the pain that had started to subside.
It was worse than the punches, for he kept up the pressure for
what felt like an eternity. Hunter’s heart was slamming against
his ribs and he couldn’t breathe through the pain. His knees gave
out, and his entire weight hung from his suspended hands. He
tried to get his feet back under him, but his strength had failed
completely.
When Bane had completed his second circuit, he had one of
his henchmen cut the rope. Hunter collapsed to the floor, wishing
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/39
he would lose consciousness. He remained stubbornly awake as
Bane dismissed his henchmen and came to kneel by Hunter’s
side. He ripped the tape off Hunter’s mouth in one quick
movement, and Hunter started greedily sucking in more air.
For a while, Hunter just lay there and breathed, eyes closed
as he searched deep inside himself for strength. He was aware of
Bane still kneeling beside him, but for the moment he put the
goblin out of his mind to concentrate on holding himself together.
Slowly, his heartbeat returned to something approaching normal
and the sweat stopped pouring from his body. He opened his
eyes.
The glamour was back, and Bane now looked like a filthy,
disheveled street bum. But the smile was still entirely goblin-like
as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial. “The
Queen sent this along for you,” he said. “It will dull the pain.
Even with it, you’ll be sore some for the next couple of days. But
not so sore you can’t perform your duties.” Another nasty grin as
he put the vial down on the floor, then retrieved Hunter’s knife
and put it beside the vial. “Of course, trying to get yourself free
of the duct tape is going to hurt like hell.”
“I really can’t wait for the day I get to kill you.”
Bane shrugged. “Hey, just doing my job here, Boyo.”
If Hunter’s mouth hadn’t been bone dry, he would have spat.
“And enjoying it thoroughly.”
“Like I keep telling you: I’m a goblin. It’s what goblins do.
Nothing personal.” The evil smile faded and Bane shook his
head. “I don’t know if you’re a total moron, or if you’re just
tainted by mortal blood. All your life you’ve lived in the Unseelie
Court and you still don’t understand this shit.”
Bane rose and stepped over Hunter’s body toward the door.
He poked a toe into one of the sore spots before he left.
***
Hunter blacked out two or three times before he managed to
saw the duct tape off his wrists. When he succeeded, he lay on his
back on the floor, panting with the effort. Finally, he found the
energy to haul himself back into a sitting position and free his
legs. He grasped the little vial of potion his mother had sent him
and staggered to the kitchen. He poured a glass of milk, then
leaned on the counter and stared at the vial.
He had no doubt that the vial contained exactly what Bane
had promised, nor did he doubt that the potion would ease his
pain. Right now, he was barely capable of walking, much less
making love to a woman, and she needed him whole. What gave
him pause was the inevitable speculation as to what was in that
potion. He was sure he didn’t want to know.
Hunter unscrewed the cap and breathed through his mouth;
if he smelled the damned stuff, he might not be able to force
himself to drink it. He held the vial in one hand and the glass of
milk in the other. Then, he tossed the contents of the vial down
the back of his throat, hoping in vain not to taste it. The foul stuff
burned and filled his mouth with the taste of rot and sulphur.
Fighting his gag reflex, he chugged down the milk, which, while
it didn’t do much to mask the taste, at least eased the burning.
The taste of the potion lingered on his tongue and in the back
of his throat. Hunter feared his stomach would reject it if he
couldn’t kill that taste, so he grabbed a bottle of whisky and
drank down a healthy dose as he headed to the bedroom. He kept
the whisky close at hand when he lay down on the bed and closed
his eyes, noticing that the potion seemed already to have
dampened the pain.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/40
Hunter wasn’t exactly drunk, but he was rather . . . mellow
. . . when the phone rang. He sat up gingerly and was pleased to
note that while his abdomen ached, it didn’t feel any worse than
minor bruises. He reached for the phone, thinking that it had to
be Kiera, for no one else knew his number.
“Hello?”
“Hi!” a man’s voice said with great enthusiasm. “Is this
Hunter Teague?”
Hunter frowned. He didn’t recognize the voice. “Yeah,” he
said after a brief, puzzled pause.
“Oh good! I was hoping I’d be able to catch you.”
Hunter’s frown deepened. Whoever this guy was, he had a
naturally deep voice that he was clearly pitching to a higher
octave, and his words had an exaggerated lilt to them.
“My name’s Jackson Davis,” the guy said. “I’m a friend of
Kiera’s. You know, Kiera Malone?”
“Ah. Yes, I know Kiera. What can I do for you Mr. Davis?”
But internally, he groaned, for there seemed an obvious reason
for Davis to call.
“Well, I was having dinner with our mutual friend the other
day, and I was telling her about all these problems I’ve been
having with my back, and she told me she was working for a
massage therapist, and I told her I thought it was an act of fate,
so I was wondering if I could make an appointment.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. Davis sounded overly excited about
this little coincidence, and it was a wonder he hadn’t passed out
from breathlessness. “I’m afraid I’m not open for business yet,
Mr. Davis,” he said, sure he was crushing the poor guy’s hopes
into the ground. “But I can refer you to some excellent therapists
in the area if you’d like.”
“What a terrible shame!” Davis said, sounding as though life
as he knew it was ending.
It occurred to Hunter that Davis would relay this
conversation to Kiera, and it might be inconvenient to have her
thinking he wasn’t open for business yet. He had every intention
of getting her onto his table, the sooner the better. But he was
damned if he was going to lay hands on anyone else, much less
this blatantly gay flake. “So sorry to disappoint you,” he said,
hoping he didn’t sound as insincere as he was.
“Oh, that’s quite all right. I understand. When will you be
opening?”
Hunter rubbed his eyes. He didn’t need this, not now. “I’m
not sure of the exact date,” he hedged. “I’ve got some supplies on
back order, and I’d like to at least have my website up. If you’ll
give me your email address, I’ll be sure to let you know when I
have a firm date.”
That seemed to satisfy the pest at last, so Hunter pretended
to write the address down.
Kiera stood outside her mother’s house, thinking that the
only sensible thing to do was turn around and high-tail it out of
here. But she had promised Jackson she’d consult her mom if
Hunter turned him down, and she always kept her promises.
Irritated at herself for the hesitation, she reached out and gave the
gargoyle-shaped door knocker a couple of firm raps.
Long before she heard her mother’s footsteps approaching,
she heard the distinctive clicking sound of dog toenails in the
entryway. The fact that Phantom never barked when she knocked
had always unnerved her—he barked at everyone else. He was by
far the strangest dog she’d ever met. Hell, he didn’t even make
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/41
her sneeze like every other animal on the planet did!
Moments later, the tapping of her mother’s high heels
drowned out the doggie footsteps, and the door swung open.
“Kiera, honey, what a surprise!” her mother exclaimed with
great cheer.
Kiera noticed at once that her mother’s cheeks were flushed.
Then, she noticed the dark red circle at the base of her neck that
looked suspiciously like a hickey. She tore her eyes away, hoping
her mother hadn’t noticed her noticing.
The door swung open wider. “Well, come on in, honey. It’s
cold out there.”
Kiera was now even less sure that she wanted to be here, but
it was too late to back down, so she smiled and stepped through
the doorway. Phantom stood a respectful distance away and
stared at her, his tail sketching a single wag, which was his idea
of an enthusiastic greeting. He was a monster of a dog, an Irish
wolfhound that stood as tall as Kiera’s waist. She hated the way
he stared at her, for his solemn eyes always had a reproachful,
disapproving look to them. And he stared a lot.
“Glad to see you too, Phantom,” she muttered.
Her mother laughed as she breezed by. “He’s just wary,
Kiera. He knows your visits often lead to fireworks.” She
scratched behind his ears, and he turned his attention away from
Kiera to look at her mother with an expression of whole-hearted
adoration.
“It must be tough to be worshiped like that,” Kiera said,
feeling strangely jealous and drawing another of Phantom’s
disapproving looks. She crossed her arms and glared at him.
There were times she could have sworn the damn dog understood
her.
“Go lie down, Phantom,” her mother said. “You make Kiera
nervous.”
Kiera could have sworn the dog rolled his eyes before he
trotted off to do as his goddess commanded. Kiera was trying to
figure out how she was going to broach her ridiculous subject
with her mom when she finally realized they weren’t alone.
The man stood uncertainly at the base of the stairs, leading
up to the den—and to her mother’s bedroom. He looked to be in
his mid-fifties, his dark hair touched with gray. He wasn’t
handsome in any traditional sense of the word—he was too short,
his belly a bit too pronounced, his nose definitely too large—but
there was something strangely sensual about him. Perhaps it was
those lips, full and curved, or perhaps it was his heavy-lidded
eyes.
“Kiera,” her mother said, “I’d like you to meet Alonso.
Alonso, this is my daughter, Kiera.”
Alonso moved away from the stairs, smiling and holding out
his hand for Kiera to shake. The smile lit up his face, adding
warmth to the sensuality, and Kiera could definitely see how he’d
attracted her mother’s attention.
“Nice meeting you,” she lied, hoping her smile didn’t look
forced. The last thing she wanted right now to make this visit
even more complicated by having to meet her mother’s “Mr.
Right,” but she tried the best she could to stifle her annoyance.
She’d make friendly with Alonso, and come back some other
time to talk to her mom in private about her own situation. And
next time she’d call first!
Phantom reappeared from wherever he’d disappeared to.
Alonso cast the wolfhound a nervous glance before returning his
attention to Kiera. “Your mother’s told me a lot about you,”
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/42
Alonso said, looking vaguely amused.
Kiera almost groaned. “I can only imagine.” Phantom
padded closer, eyes fixed on Alonso, a none-too-friendly
expression on his face.
“Well,” her mother said, too brightly, “I’m glad you two
finally got a chance to meet.” She turned and glared at Phantom,
who stopped in his tracks. If he’d been human, he would have
started whistling in casual innocence. “It was so nice of you to
stop by,” she said to Alonso.
Kiera recognized the dismissal and suddenly she wanted
nothing more than to escape the conversation she’d come here to
have. “Really, mother, you don’t have to toss Alonso out because
of me. I should have called before I came over. We can get
together some other time, when it’s more convenient.”
“No, no,” Alonso said. “I had to go anyway. I’ve got a
restaurant to run.”
Kiera averted her eyes when he gave her mother a
gentlemanly kiss. A very faint growl emanated from Phantom’s
lips, and Kiera noticed the brute was bristling and glaring. Her
mother walked Alonso to the door before Phantom got any more
hostile, and Kiera was aware of them whispering to one another
before he kissed her again and slipped out. The thunk of the
closing door made Kiera feel trapped. Her palms were sweaty,
and though she knew her agitation was ridiculous, she couldn’t
seem to still it.
“Come sit down,” her mother urged, leading her to the sofa
in the living room.
Kiera sat obediently, Phantom following her in and curling
up on his dog bed. She felt like he was studiously not looking at
her. She shook her head at herself; bad enough she was feeling so
paranoid about Hunter, now she was suspicious of a damn dog!
“I take it Phantom isn’t as fond of Alonso as you are?” Kiera
asked.
“He’s being a typical jealous male.” Phantom gave one
sharp, loud bark. Kiera’s mom cut him a quick glance, then
looked away. “But never mind that. Tell me what’s wrong. I’ve
never seen your aura look so troubled before.”
Kiera was sure her mother had picked up her mood from her
facial expression, not from any mythical aura. But the fact that
she’d picked up on it meant that Kiera couldn’t weasel out of
talking about it, not unless she wanted to suffer an interrogation
that she was sure would eventually break her down. She let out
a deep sigh and stared at the floor.
“Let me start by saying that I think this is all ridiculous. But
I promised Jackson I would talk to you about it, so I’m biting the
bullet.” Or at least trying to. Her fight-or-flight instinct was
screaming at her to get the hell out of here.
“It’s so touching how you depend on my advice.”
Kiera looked up sharply at the wry words, fearing for a
moment she’d hurt her mom’s feelings. But her mom looked
more amused than hurt. “Sorry, Mom, but I’m not going to
pretend I believe in all this supernatural mumbo-jumbo when I
don’t. Besides, I’d never be able to fool you.”
She laughed. “Too true! Now, tell me what kind of
supernatural mumbo-jumbo you don’t believe in today.”
Kiera squirmed on the couch. “Well, there’s this guy . . .”
Once she got started, Kiera found it surprisingly easy to spill
the whole story. Her mom was the perfect audience, not
interrupting, not prodding when Kiera faltered. Somewhere along
the way, she stopped feeling so silly and the words tumbled out
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/43
faster, a confused jumble of thoughts and emotions.
When she finished, she finally nerved herself up to look at
her mother’s face. The troubled look she discerned sent a shiver
up her spine. “What is it?” she asked.
Phantom, sensing that his goddess was in distress, trotted
over and rested his chin on her leg, looking up at her with soulful
eyes. She scratched behind his ears and smiled at him.
“Come on, Mom,” Kiera urged. “Tell me what you’re
thinking that’s got you looking so worried.”
Her mother started chewing on her lip, a nervous habit Kiera
had thought she’d kicked long ago. “You’re going to scoff at
me.”
Kiera shrugged and managed a weak smile. “When has that
ever stopped you?”
That won her an answering smile from her mother and a
doleful look from Phantom. “All right, but don’t say I didn’t
warn you.” The smile quickly faded. “What happened in the
elevator, the way you felt so inexplicably attracted to him . . .”
“Yes?”
Now her mother’s face had set into grim lines. “It sounds
like glamour.”
“Glamour?” Kiera couldn’t help wrinkling her nose, even
though she’d asked for this. “You mean glamour, as in fairymind-
control magic, right?”
“Exactly. What you described feeling . . . it’s just like what
I felt when your father seduced me.” She looked away. “I was a
married woman, and while it wasn’t exactly a good marriage, I’m
not the kind of woman who fools around on her husband.”
“You said you were drunk,” Kiera reminded her gently.
Her mom nodded. “A little tipsy, yes. But I believe in
fidelity, believe in it far too much to fall into bed with some
stranger just because I’d had a few drinks.”
Kiera couldn’t help feeling skeptical. If her mom’s marriage
hadn’t been going well, it certainly seemed possible that the
combination of alcohol and a handsome man could suppress her
inhibitions and make her do something she would later regret.
Her mother smiled. “I can practically read your thoughts. I
really wasn’t that drunk, not drunk enough to throw my marriage
in the toilet when I still harbored hopes that it could work out.
But the moment your father sat on the barstool beside me, my
hormones started wreaking havoc with me. I had never before
and have never since felt anything like that.” She shook her head.
“He was absolutely beautiful. The kind of man who would have
caught my eye across a crowded room.” She put her hand to her
throat and grinned. “Even conjuring his image now makes my
pulse race.”
Kiera couldn’t help it; Hunter’s handsome face suddenly
loomed in her mind’s eye, and her own pulse leapt.
Her mother’s face scrunched up in intense thought. “But
there’s a difference between the kind of attraction you feel for a
handsome stranger and the kind you feel for someone you
literally want to have sex with.” She sighed and looked
exasperated. “Damn, this is hard to put into words. But then,
maybe I don’t have to. Think about the way this Hunter Teague
makes you feel. Have you ever felt anything like that for
someone you know so little?”
She had to admit her mom was right. That was why she was
here, after all. Still . . . “I’ll admit it’s weird, but I have a hard
time convincing myself it’s supernatural weird.”
Her mom leaned forward and put a hand on her arm. The
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/44
gesture startled Kiera, for her mom had never been real touchyfeely.
“Can you stand it if your mother asks you an embarrassing
question?”
Kiera practically cringed. “Depends on the question.”
“Remember, I’m trying to help, and to help I need to
understand as best I can what’s happening. Okay?”
Kiera didn’t like the sound of this at all, but morbid curiosity
prompted her to nod cautiously.
“If you think about him right now, when he can’t possibly be
using glamour against you, do you want to sleep with him?”
Kiera blushed like a teenager. She wasn’t what you’d call a
prude, but discussing sex with her mother was not high on her list
of favorite things.
“You don’t have to answer out loud if you don’t want to,”
her mother hastened to assure her. “I just want you to think about
it.”
Kiera shoved her prudery aside—she’d come too far into this
conversation to chicken out now. So, she once again conjured
Hunter’s face, adding his tantalizing scent to the mix. Her pulse
kicked up and her cheeks heated. “He’s unbelievably sexy. I
don’t think it’s impossible that it could happen, if only I could
shake whatever it is that bothers me.”
Her mom nodded. “But don’t you see? When he’s not near
you, you say it’s not impossible. When you were in that elevator
with him, you felt like it was imminent. There’s something
unnatural about that.”
“It’s just his charisma.”
“If you thought that, you wouldn’t be so troubled about it.
Believe me, honey, I know exactly what you’re feeling. Finvarra
had me in such a daze I felt almost like I had no free will of my
own. What he did to me was damn close to rape, because he
made me helpless to resist. If your attraction to Hunter were
natural, it wouldn’t be making you feel helpless.”
“Maybe I’ve just been alone too long.”
Her mom grunted in disgust. “You are one of the most
stubborn people I’ve ever met in my life. I can see I’m not going
to convince you.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” she said, feeling terrible because she had
asked for just this kind of answer and she was rejecting it.
Her mom grinned. “Honey, I’ve known you for thirty-one
years. Believe me, I’m used to it.” She gently nudged Phantom’s
chin away from her leg and stood up. “What I need to do is help
you gather more evidence, until eventually you have enough to
convince even you. Wait here.”
As if enforcing her mother’s command, Phantom moved to
sit directly in front of Kiera, fixing her with his usual stare.
“Quit that!” she snapped at him, then wondered at herself for
acting like he could understand her. Of course, even if he’d
understood her, he undoubtedly would have ignored her. She
didn’t know what the dumb creature had against her. She tried to
stand up, thinking to turn her back on him to at least give her the
illusion he wasn’t staring like that. But Phantom moved in closer
and put his front paws on her lap before she was able to move.
Kiera gasped. With his paws on her thighs, he was able to
stare into her eyes from an equal height, and the look in his eyes
was almost as unnerving as Hunter. There was too much
intelligence there, too much depth. Then, her mother came back
into the room. Phantom got down and retreated to his mistress’s
side, leaving Kiera thoroughly shaken. Flakiness must run in the
family, she decided, and she was really letting her imagination
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/45
get away from her.
“You have the world’s weirdest dog,” she grumbled, and her
mother laughed.
“Quite a character, isn’t he?” she agreed, resuming her seat
on the sofa.
Not exactly the way Kiera would have put it, but she let it
go, instead frowning at the horseshoe her mother held in her lap.
“What’s with the horseshoe?”
“Any number of supernatural creatures have an aversion to
iron, and the fey are no exception. The tradition of hanging a
horseshoe on the front door actually originated as a way to keep
the fey, among other things, out.” She held out the horseshoe, and
Kiera took it. “See if you can get Hunter to touch that. If he’s fey,
he won’t do it.” A crooked grin stole over her lips. “It might be
very entertaining to see what excuses he uses to avoid it.”
Kiera noticed Phantom was no longer staring at her but had
his eyes fixed on the horseshoe instead. Feeling silly once more,
and yet unable to resist the impulse, she leaned forward and
stretched the horseshoe out in Phantom’s direction. The
wolfhound shied away, hackles bristling. She leaned back into the
couch and met her mother’s eyes. Her mom made no comment,
and Kiera tried to tell herself there was no significance
whatsoever to Phantom’s dislike of the horseshoe.
“I’ll give it a try,” she said, not at all sure she would. She let
her mother see her to the door, Phantom hanging back instead of
staying on his mistress’s heels as usual.
Her mother was in the process of closing the door when a
thought suddenly struck Kiera and she stuck her hand out.
“Wait!”
“Yes?”
She hefted the horseshoe. “You keep claiming my father is
the king of the fairies. If that’s so, why can I touch the
horseshoe?”
“He’s the King of the Seelie Court, not the king of the
fairies. And though you’re at least half fey, you’re mortal, so the
iron can’t hurt you.”
“Somehow I knew you’d have an explanation.”
“See if your skepticism can survive when Hunter refuses to
touch the horseshoe!”
Kiera made a noncommittal sound and hurried away.
Chapter 6
Hunter woke in the morning with a headache that made
him wish he were dead. He groaned and tried to will himself
back to sleep, but it felt like someone had jabbed an icicle in
his eye. His stomach churned, and he was poised to race for the
bathroom. When the wave of nausea passed, he slowly pushed
himself into a sitting position.
There were some sore spots on his mid-section still, but
they were nothing compared to the pain that speared through
his skull. It seemed that alcohol did not go well with the
healing potion his mother had sent. Wincing, he dragged
himself to the bathroom where he turned the shower to the
hottest setting he could stand.
The steamy air seemed to dull the pain, and when he
emerged, Hunter felt much better. He suffered a brief chill
when he went to the kitchen for his breakfast and saw the hook
that still protruded from the ceiling. He quickly removed it and
tossed it in the trash. Once he’d made himself a pot of strong
coffee, he retreated to the living room to rethink his strategy.
Yesterday’s torment, though terrible, had been nothing
compared to what he would suffer if he failed in his mission.
Yes, he liked Kiera. And no, he didn’t want to hurt her. But the
threat that hovered over him was more than any man could
ignore, and despite the attacks of conscience, he was going to
have to find a way to get her into his bed.
He had learned a lot from the interlude in the elevator. For
whatever reason, even when Kiera succumbed to the glamour,
it had an ill effect on her. As his mission required he sleep with
her often enough to get her pregnant, it wouldn’t do to have
her feeling lots of morning-after regrets. So, perhaps his best
strategy was to dispense with the glamour altogether and let his
natural charm win her. He did have some, after all.
Maybe when the deed was done, when Kiera had borne
her child and the Queen had taken it away, he would try to
make reparations as best he could. After all, by then his mother
ought to have her attention thoroughly distracted by the child
she hoped to raise to rule over both the Seelie and Unseelie
Courts, and he ought to be able to slip away without being
noticed. Kiera would probably never forgive him—nor would
he ever forgive himself—but he would do whatever he could to
help.
Not that any of that mattered until he actually got her to
bed. After all, so far he’d failed even to win a kiss!
It was time to step up the pressure. He owed her an
apology after making a pass at her in the elevator. Perhaps he
could offer a very special apology that would turn into a far
more subtle, and far more effective, pass.
Trying to feel pleased that he had come up with a clever
seduction tool, Hunter poured himself another cup of coffee
and settled in to wait until it was a decent hour to make a
phone call.
***
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/47
Kiera was staring at the horseshoe her mother had given
her when the phone rang. Shaking her head at herself for even
considering her mother’s crazy notions, she answered. When
Hunter’s voice greeted her, her heart fluttered.
“Oh. Hi,” she said, feeling like a nervous teenager. What
did you say to a client who’d almost felt you up in an elevator?
Especially when you didn’t know if you were more relieved or
disappointed that you’d stopped him?
“I feel like the world’s worst heel,” he told her.
Somehow, that hadn’t been what she’d been expecting
from him, and she became even more tongue-tied. She tried to
force some words of forgiveness from her dry mouth, but he
continued before she could manage it.
“I can only claim temporary insanity. I’m really not the
type to take advantage of someone like that, and I can’t tell
you how sorry I am.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said when she could find her
voice. “It really wasn’t a big deal.” Pathetic lie, perhaps, but
maybe if she said it enough times she’d convince herself.
“It was to me. I’m ashamed of myself, and I’d really like
the chance to make it up to you.”
“Really, Hunter, that isn’t necessary. Let’s just forget
about it, okay? I should have your website done in three more
days.”
Her attempt to sidetrack him with talk of business failed
miserably. “I’d like to offer you a free massage.”
Kiera’s heart seemed to skip a beat as her mind filled with
images of lying naked on a table with his hands on her. The
thought sent a shiver from the top of her head all the way down
to her toes.
“I would, of course, promise to behave in a thoroughly
professional manner. There would be no repeat of the elevator
scene.”
“That’s a very nice offer,” she began, “but—”
”You’re probably reluctant to be alone with me after the
way I acted, but Kiera this is my business. I’ve had some very
beautiful women as clients, and I haven’t once made a pass at
any of them. Aside from any professional ethics, I could very
well ruin my business by acting in an inappropriate manner
with a client. You’d be quite safe with me.”
Kiera frowned; she couldn’t imagine feeling safe with
Hunter. Even his name declared him a predator. But the idea of
having his hands on her, of letting those strong, lithe fingers
press into the tight muscles of her back, filled her with heat.
She shook her head and the frown turned into an ironic
grin. Maybe Hunter wouldn’t be safe with her! “I don’t know,”
she said. “I have a feeling it might be tempting fate.”
“Come on,” he wheedled. “It’s been weeks since I’ve
given a massage. I’m out of practice.”
She laughed. “If that’s the case, maybe I should wait until
you’re at your best once more. You don’t want to make a bad
impression, do you?”
“I’ve never had a woman play hard-to-get over a massage
before. Come on, what could it possibly hurt?”
She was beginning to weaken. She’d only ever had a
massage twice, both times because a friend had given her a gift
certificate. She’d really enjoyed it, but not enough to pay
eighty dollars of her own money to get another. And she’d
already had a brief sample of Hunter’s wares when he’d
rubbed her shoulders in the elevator.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/48
A sudden thought brought her up short just as she was
about to accept his offer. “I just referred a friend of mine to
you and you told him you weren’t open for business.”
“I wasn’t, at the time. My massage table only arrived
yesterday.”
He’d answered smoothly, but Kiera’s irritating instincts
told her he was lying. She told her instincts to go to hell, but
they didn’t listen. “I’m sure Jackson will be thrilled to hear that
you’re open now.”
Was it her imagination, or did he hesitate a beat before
answering? “You’re trying to deflect my attention from the
subject at hand. I will worry about Mr. Davis’s ailing back
later. Right now, my concern is you. Let me make amends,
please.”
What was the point of resisting? Damn it, even though he
made her nervous, she had to admit she wanted the massage.
Not for sexual reasons, of course. It was just such a decadent
pleasure, and Hunter promised to be good at it. And how could
she turn down a free massage by a hot guy?
“All right, all right. You win. I lose.”
He laughed. “I hope you will not feel like you lost when
I’m finished with you.”
“If I do, I’ll ask for my money back,” she teased.
“And I will, of course, refund every penny,” he promised
in a mock-serious voice. “Now, when would you like to
come?”
She shrugged. “I hadn’t given it any thought.”
“How about three o’clock?”
Apparently, he had given it some thought. No doubt he’d
entered this debate certain he was going to win. The idea irked
her. “How about four instead,” she said, not because she had
any objection to three but because she wanted the illusion of
being in control.
“Four it is. Wear loose, comfortable clothing that you
don’t mind getting massage oil on.”
“Will do,” she agreed, even as heat filled her once more.
Her skin felt a phantom touch of oiled hands, and she
wondered if she’d just made a terrible mistake.
All was prepared, but that didn’t stop Hunter from taking
yet another turn around the room, checking and rechecking.
Yes, he had a relaxing CD in the stereo; yes, he had matches
with which to light the scented candles; yes, he remembered
the pattern of strokes he planned to use. No, he no longer had
his knife up his sleeve.
Damn, he thought as he came to a stop in his pacing. He
was nervous. He couldn’t remember feeling this way ever
before. And all because he was going to have Kiera under his
hands when he had no intention of making a move on her. He
took a deep, steadying breath. It wouldn’t do to act nervous
when she arrived. Which, if he had the read on her habits, she
would do late. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was
almost four.
Hunter slipped out of the massage room, prowling the
apartment restlessly. He stopped in his bedroom in front of the
full-length mirror that faced the bed. His nervousness still
showed in his eyes, and he spent an anxious moment staring at
himself in an effort to school his expression.
The doorbell rang.
“Will you relax!” he snarled at his reflection when he saw
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/49
what the sound of that bell had done to his face. The doorbell
rang a second time before he reached the door.
Hunter swung the door open, a practiced smile on his face.
When he saw Kiera standing there, the smile almost died. She
looked as nervous as he felt, her smile failing to reach her eyes,
and he felt instantly guilty that he was putting her through this
ordeal.
Getting a massage is not an ordeal, he reminded himself
as he firmed up his smile. “Come in, come in,” he said,
stepping back and opening the door wider. He saw her swallow
hard before she stepped into the room. He glanced at his watch.
“You’re right on time. I wasn’t expecting you for at least
another ten minutes.”
She gave him a dirty look, but the jest seemed to have
banished some of her nerves. “Well, they usually tell you to
arrive at least ten minutes early to fill out all the paperwork.”
“That explains it, then.” He reached out and put his hand
lightly on her arm. “Come, let me show you to my office.”
She tensed ever so slightly at his touch. “What about the
paperwork?”
His research had failed to turn up the fact that there was
any paperwork involved, but he figured he could bluff his way
through this easily enough. He grinned. “I’m not officially
open for business yet, remember? And this is a freebie. So, no
paperwork required.”
She allowed him to guide her back to the massage room,
but out of the corner of his eye he saw the frown that creased
her brow. He’d never met anyone quite so suspicious before.
Still, she was here, and he was confident he could allay those
suspicions, at least temporarily.
He thought her suspicions went down a notch when she
stepped into the massage room, which he knew looked highly
professional. Money had been no object, so he had ordered
only the best equipment, and he had looked at plenty of
pictures from the most elegant and expensive spas from around
the world.
The lights were low, giving the room a tranquil
atmosphere without making it feel dim or gloomy. A tall
indoor fountain bubbled gently against one wall, and his cart of
lotions and oils stood amidst lush potted ferns.
Hunter gave her a moment to look around while he lit the
scented candles that flanked the doorway in simple wall
sconces. The scent of sulphur and smoke momentarily marred
the atmosphere, and he reminded himself to use a lighter
instead of matches if he ever did this again.
Kiera was rubbing her hands absently against the legs of
her wide-leg knit pants, and he wondered if her palms were
sweating. His certainly were. Feigning assurance, he stepped
up to the massage table and folded back the sheets.
“I’ll leave you for a couple of moments,” he said, then
paused to clear his throat when he heard how husky his voice
came out. “I’ll start you off face down.” He forced a bit of a
grin. “If your back is anywhere near as tight today as it was
before, it’ll need lots of extra attention. You can, uh, leave
your underwear on or take it off, whichever makes you more
comfortable.”
She fixed him with a stare that did funny things to his
insides, but he met her eyes as innocently as possible. That was
the standard spiel. Nothing sexual about it. But the idea of her
lying entirely naked beneath that sheet . . . Better not to think
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/50
about it. He’d purposely worn a pair of blue jeans entirely
inappropriate for massage because the heavy denim would help
hide the arousal he’d been certain he would feel. However,
denim could only do so much.
He cleared his throat once more. “I’ll knock before I come
in,” he finished, then slipped out of the room quickly before he
embarrassed himself any further.
He needed to pull himself together and fast! The plan here
had been to make her feel less threatened by him while at the
same time getting her to associate him with things sensual. To
do that, he’d have to keep at least a bit of professional distance.
It wouldn’t do to have a hard-on the entire time he was in the
room with her. He closed his eyes and focused on the
punishment he’d suffered at Bane’s hands. That had been
nothing but a wrist slap compared to what awaited him should
he fail the larger mission.
The reminder wilted him immediately and he opened his
eyes. Not the most pleasant way to rein in his lust, but it was
effective.
Marginally more prepared, he knocked softly on the door
to the massage room. After a brief hesitation, Kiera gave him
permission to enter.
She’d managed to pull the sheet all the way up to her
neck—a difficult feat when lying on her stomach. Her head
was turned toward the doorway in what must have been an
uncomfortable position, but she was obviously too uneasy to
bury her face in the headrest yet. He gave her his most
reassuring smile, coming to stand beside the table.
“Warm enough?” he asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay, then. Go ahead and put your face in the headrest.”
The sheet rose and fell with her deep breath, but she
turned her head and wriggled until she was comfortable.
Hunter took a deep breath himself as he folded back the sheet
to reveal the smooth, creamy expanse of her back. His
manhood twitched and he drew in another breath, drawing the
sheet farther down to reveal the first swell of her hips. He
stopped when he caught a glimpse of the elastic waistband of
her panties. What a surprise, she had kept them on. And they
reached practically to her waist. He wondered if she’d
specifically gone out to buy granny panties today, for he
couldn’t imagine that was what she usually wore.
He tucked the sheet into the waistband of her panties and
drew them a little lower down her hips. He saw the muscles in
her back clench, but he chose not to acknowledge her tension.
Lowering them was perfectly acceptable, for they would get in
the way when he worked on her lower back. There was nothing
sexual in it whatsoever.
Hunter couldn’t help the little smile that curved his lips.
He wondered how many times he would repeat that little
refrain before this hour was up.
He flipped on the stereo, and the soft, vague strains of new
age violins joined the burble of the fountain. He squirted
massage oil onto his hands and rubbed them together to warm
it.
When his hands first touched her back, both of them
tensed. The feel of her against his palms sent an arrow of
desire from his hands through his arms to his groin. By the
time he’d finished the first broad stroke, he was fully erect and
Kiera was even more tense than she’d been when she walked
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/51
in.
Ignoring as best he could the throbbing in his groin,
Hunter closed his eyes and concentrated on what he’d learned
about massage, concentrated on keeping the pressure from his
hands firm and even, concentrated on keeping the strokes slow
and unhurried.
Somewhere along the way, Kiera’s muscles began to
respond, the tension draining out of them drop by drop until
she was completely pliant beneath his hands. He risked
opening his eyes and was pleased to discover his lust had
calmed from a rolling boil to a gentle—and not
unpleasant—simmer. He changed from the broad strokes that
covered her entire back into a more focused stroke that
concentrated on the tightness of her shoulders. It didn’t take
long for him to find isolated spots that felt strangely harder
than the rest of her muscles and he worked each until it
softened and relaxed. He didn’t need to ask if the pressure was
too much; she had gone so limp he was certain he wasn’t
hurting her.
When he could no longer find those hard little bumps in
her shoulders, he worked his way down her arms, strokes
taking him all the way to the base of her fingers. He noticed
how smooth and soft her skin was, realized it wasn’t just
because of the massage oil.
Hunter pulled the sheet back up and tucked it under her
shoulders, going to work next on her legs. She was so relaxed
he wondered if she might have fallen asleep. He had a harder
time keeping himself under control while his hands worked her
thighs, constantly aware of the desire to keep his hands moving
upward. By the time he was done, his jeans had become
unbearably tight and he knew he couldn’t risk letting her see
him. He improvised and worked on her feet a little longer until
his arousal wasn’t so excruciating.
When he held the sheet up and asked her to turn over, it
seemed as though she could barely move. Her eyes were
closed, her lips slack. Any suspicions she might have had were
gone, and she lay before him in a state of total trust. He
worked her neck and face and wished he deserved that trust.
With a regretful sigh, he allowed his hands to slide off her
skin. “Take your time getting up,” he whispered. “Come on out
when you’re ready.”
He slipped out the door, filled with a strange yearning that
had nothing to do with the desires of the flesh.
Kiera felt like a lump of putty. When Hunter had first put
his hands on her, she’d practically jumped off the table she’d
been so tense. Now, it seemed it would take more will than she
had, simply to sit up. With a groan, she propped herself up on
her elbows. She breathed deep, taking in the vanilla scent of
the candles, and, under that, Hunter’s spicy scent. A smile
crept over her lips.
Eventually, she managed to get to her feet and get dressed,
though every movement was slow and languid. She’d felt
relaxed after her previous massages; after this one, she felt
boneless and sated. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the
door.
Hunter was waiting for her in the living room. At first, he
didn’t seem to hear her enter, so she stood silent for a moment,
observing him. He sat on a very masculine brown velour
couch, his booted feet propped on the glossy walnut coffee
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/52
table. His hands—those wonderful, warm, strong hands—were
folded across his abdomen, and his head rested against the back
of the couch, his hair fanned out around him in a dark halo. His
eyes were open, staring fixedly at the ceiling. When she
followed his gaze, she noticed a small hole in the ceiling, but
there was nothing about it that seemed to warrant such
attention.
Either she made a noise, or Hunter finally sensed he was
not alone, for he raised his head and swung his feet off the
coffee table. For the first moment she caught his eyes, she saw
something haunted—and hunted—in them, but he hid the
expression before she could be certain it wasn’t just a figment
of her imagination.
“Wow,” he said, smiling warmly at her. “You look much
more relaxed than you were when you got here. I swear your
shoulders are sitting about six inches lower.”
She returned his smile. “Okay, even I have to admit you
did good. I feel like an overcooked noodle.”
“Well come sit down a moment.” He indicated a tall glass
sweating on a coaster. “You need to drink lots of water to flush
out the toxins. Might as well start now.”
She hesitated, worrying that if she stayed she would
shatter the tenuous peace that seemed to have taken hold. But
somehow, it seemed too much effort to remain worried about
his intentions when she felt so good, so she fell heavily onto
the couch beside him. She took a couple long swallows of
water, noticing as she did so that her nerves weren’t jangling
the way they usually did when Hunter was close. She glanced
at him from the corner of her eye. He looked much more
relaxed himself. Maybe even more . . . human.
Kiera shook off that thought, remembering reluctantly her
mother’s crazy ideas and the horseshoe. All so ridiculous,
really. Hunter was just a man. Full of contradictions and
complexity, perhaps, but a man nonetheless.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, startling her.
She took another sip of water, considering the wisdom of
answering him with any kind of honesty. She turned toward
him on the couch, propping her head on her hand. “I’m just
trying to figure you out.”
He grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what
conclusions have you reached?”
“That’s just the thing: I’m failing miserably. You don’t
have multiple personality disorder or anything, do you?”
A short bark of laughter escaped him. “Not that I know
of.” He moved a little closer to her, turning his body so that he
was facing her. “Tell me what you’re trying to figure out.
Maybe I can help.”
She was momentarily tempted to laugh, but he looked like
he was serious, so she put some thought into it. “Well, I have
to admit you just gave me a wonderful massage. But I’m still
having trouble reconciling with the idea that you do it for a
living.”
“Why? Still based on the stereotype?”
She shrugged. “I think it’s more than that.” She bit her lip
and wondered whether she dared say any more. She was
already being pretty damn rude, considering he’d just given her
a free sample of his services. But his face looked open and
friendly, and she was so curious about him she couldn’t resist.
“For one thing, I don’t think massage therapists usually make
the kind of money it would take to dress the way you do—or to
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/53
furnish an apartment quite so elegantly.”
He nodded in acknowledgment, his face grave. “That’s
true. You have caught me out in my secret.” He leaned forward
and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The drugs
are where the real money comes from.”
He looked so serious that for a fraction of a second, she
thought he might actually mean it. Then she saw the glint in
his eye and she gave him a mock glare. “Very funny,” she said,
reaching behind her and grabbing the throw pillow propped in
the corner of the couch.
Hunter was about to respond when she whipped the pillow
around and tried to bop him in the head with it. He moved with
incredible speed, one arm blocking the blow while his other
hand darted out to fasten on her wrist. It all happened so fast
she could barely comprehend it. Their gazes locked as he held
her wrist in a firm grip and plucked the pillow from her fingers
with his other hand.
Kiera was shocked at herself, amazed she’d had the gall to
try to hit this man she barely knew with a pillow, that she’d
gone from being so rigid and guarded with him to acting like
he was a close friend. She was even more shocked by his swift
reaction. When he’d seen the blow coming, he’d reacted like
he was trying to prevent a death-blow, his eyes hardening and
all signs of humor fading. Even so, when he’d caught her
wrist, his fingers had been firm but gentle, belying the ferocity
of his expression.
Heat crawled up Kiera’s cheeks as they stared at one
another, her wrist still trapped in his fingers. She didn’t know
how she could possibly apologize for the over-familiarity, but
she had to try. “I don’t know what came over me,” she said,
shaking her head and trying to extricate her wrist from his grip.
He didn’t let go, although he lowered their hands to the
couch. He no longer looked so fierce, his lips now quirked into
something approaching a smile, but there was still a strange
intensity to his gaze. “You don’t have to apologize. It was a
bad joke.” His thumb moved in a slow circle against the skin
on the underside of her wrist. She wasn’t even sure he knew he
was doing it. “I had it coming.”
She blinked and swallowed, her breath coming shorter as
her pulse kicked up. She knew he must be able to feel the
quickening of her pulse where his thumb caressed her wrist,
but she couldn’t force herself to pull her hand away. Words
failed her, and she sat there mute and confused. Suddenly, she
wanted very much to kiss him, but the feeling was very
different from the fuzzy-headed compulsion she’d experienced
in the elevator.
Hunter laughed softly and let go of her wrist. She almost
reached for him, hating to have lost that point of contact
between them. She stopped herself in time.
“I think perhaps you’d better finish your glass of water
and head on home,” he said with a rueful smile. “If you don’t,
I’m going to end up making another pass, and then I’ll have to
give you another free massage. I’ll bankrupt myself at this
rate!”
Kiera let out a slow breath. Right this moment, she wasn’t
entirely sure she would rebuff him if he did make a pass. She
felt none of the creepy, unsettling sensations that she usually
associated with him. Perhaps it had all been in her head, and he
was exactly as he seemed. Her pulse showed no sign of
slowing, and she imagined he would be an excellent kisser.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/54
But this was simply ridiculous. Men who looked like him
did not pursue women who looked like her. He was simply
reacting to their proximity, his male instincts prodding him in a
sort of reflexive reaction entirely beyond his control. If she
gave in to her own impulses, she would feel like the worst kind
of fool afterward, and it would make their professional
relationship impossible.
So she sucked in a deep breath, ordering her pulse to
return to normal, and she smiled at him. “Well, I certainly
wouldn’t want you in bankruptcy court because of me!” She
put some distance between them as she picked up the glass and
gulped the remainder of the water. She plunked it triumphantly
on the coaster and practically leapt to her feet. Shit, her cheeks
were hot, which meant she was probably blushing.
Hunter got to his feet almost as fast, his face now a mask
of concern. “Damn! I just blew it again, didn’t I?” He shook
his head. “Sorry, Kiera. I didn’t mean to—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t worry about it.”
She forced a smile. “You didn’t blow it. Really you didn’t,”
she added when he looked skeptical. If she didn’t watch it, she
was going to tweak more of those manly instincts by running
away. “Thank you so much for the massage. It was really
wonderful. I’ll recommend you to all my friends. Once you’re
actually open for business, that is.”
“Well, if you decide I owe you another freebie after my
unwise comment, let me know. I’d be happy to oblige.”
Yikes! As good as the massage had been, she didn’t think
she dared risk another. The relaxation had clearly addled her
brain, and if she didn’t watch it she could end up flinging
herself at him. It had been too long since she’d had a
boyfriend—she was really losing her cool.
“I think I’ll let you off the hook just this once,” she said.
“But you’d better be on your best behavior when you come to
see the website in a couple days, got it?”
“I will be a model of propriety,” he promised as he guided
her to the door.
There was another awkward moment when they stood
together in the doorway. Kiera found herself staring at his lips,
speculating once more on what they would feel like on hers.
Somehow, showing more willpower than she liked to
contemplate, she managed to make it home without finding
out.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/55
Chapter 7
When the fog cleared from her head, Kiera realized the
massage had left her even more perplexed by Hunter. That she
had wanted him was undeniable; that the desire had felt so
different from her earlier experiences with him just made it
more strange. Trying to keep her mind . . . ajar . . . as Jackson
had suggested, she had to admit that if there really were such a
thing as fairy glamour, it would explain a lot: Hunter had used
glamour to stir her hunger in the elevator, and it had been her
own natural desire she’d felt in his apartment.
Her mind still recoiled from the idea, but she sternly
reminded herself that entertaining the possibility did no harm,
and so she set up an ambush.
She invited Hunter over to her apartment to see the
finished design for his website. Maybe she was sending a
dangerous signal by inviting him over instead of meeting him
at the coffee shop and taking advantage of its wireless Internet
connection, but she couldn’t imagine any excuse to have the
horseshoe with her there.
Kiera’s study was positively cramped with her large
computer desk and bookshelves, but she could just manage to
drag a second chair in. She scattered a handful of bric-a-brac
on the chair, then nestled the horseshoe amongst the clutter.
Her whole apartment was an homage to clutter, so she didn’t
think the chair would stand out as unusual.
True, the horseshoe looked pretty out of place. But, if
Hunter was just a normal man—as, of course, he had to be—he
would think nothing of it. And if he was some kind of
supernatural being . . . Well, but he wasn’t, so it wasn’t worth
thinking about what would happen if he was.
Her imagination now firmly under control, Kiera waited
anxiously for Hunter to arrive. She had changed clothes three
times before she’d settled on a deep green button-down shirtdress
with a knotted leather belt. The fit and the color flattered
her nicely without looking like something she’d wear for a
date. And though she didn’t wear cologne or lipstick often, it
wasn’t unheard of. No, she definitely wasn’t trying to make
any kind of impression on Hunter.
The doorbell rang and she suffered a moment of panic.
God, what had she been thinking, dressing up and wearing
lipstick? He’d take one look at her and assume this was some
kind of come-on! But it was too late now. Cursing herself
under her breath, she hurried to get the door.
Hunter looked more handsome every time she saw him.
Today, he was wearing a charcoal gray sweater that looked like
it might be cashmere. She shook his hand in greeting and had
to resist an urge to run her hand over his arm to feel the
sweater. Actually, it wasn’t his arm she most wanted to touch
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/56
. . .
“Great sweater,” she said, then wanted to slap herself for
the ridiculous comment; it made her sound as nervous as she
was. And there was no reason to be nervous. She was merely
meeting with a client, showing him her work. If he was happy
with her work, this might be the last time they saw each other
except for the occasional run-in in the lobby or elevator.
Hunter’s eyes smiled down at her as though he guessed the
direction of her thoughts. “Thanks.” His eyes dipped lower,
taking her in from head to toe then back again. His nostrils
flared ever so slightly, like a hound scenting the wind. “Great
dress,” he said, but his expression said clearly that he was more
interested in what was under the dress.
Kiera cleared her throat quietly, hoping her cheeks weren’t
as rosy as she suspected. “Come in,” she said, gesturing him
into the apartment. Her voice sounded too bright to her own
ears. She wasn’t fooling anyone! “My office is back here.” All
right, that sounded a little better. She led him toward the
office, painfully aware of how close behind her he walked.
“Your shoulders are back up around your ears,” Hunter
said. He stopped her in the doorway by putting his hands on
said shoulders and giving them a glorious squeeze. She sucked
in a loud breath and he chuckled. “With shoulders this tense,
you should be getting regular massages. It’s not good for you
to carry so much tension around.”
She had the distinct impression he knew that he himself
was causing the tension, but she wasn’t rude enough to point it
out to him. For a few delicious seconds, she let him rub her
shoulders, wishing she could strip off the dress and get his
hands on her bare skin. Then she forcibly reminded herself
why he was here.
“If you keep doing that, I’m going to turn into a puddle of
mush,” she murmured.
“Would that be a bad thing?”
“Puddles of mush generally aren’t much good at showing
off websites.”
“Websites?” he said in feigned confusion.
She laughed and reached up to pat one of his hands. “Back
off, Romeo,” she said without rancor. “You have a business to
run, remember?”
He sighed dramatically, then gave her shoulders a final
squeeze before letting his hands slide away.
The small, crowed study seemed even smaller with both of
them in it, and Kiera wished she’d staged this scene in the
living room. Hunter’s scent filled the air, making her knees all
weak and quivery. She hurried to her chair and sat down,
turning to the second chair and putting on a chagrined face.
“Sorry about the mess,” she said, waving a hand at the pile of
junk on the chair. “Just put that stuff on the floor and have a
seat.”
She had laid out the trap carefully, covering the seat with
small objects such as pens and paperclips and Post-it notes.
There was nothing he could use to shield himself from the iron
horseshoe, and he would have to touch it directly to clear off
the seat. She glanced up and saw him frowning at the chair.
“I get the paperclips and pens,” he said, turning his frown
into a puzzled smile, “but explain the horseshoe.”
She hoped she was hiding her embarrassment better than
she thought she was. This was worse than silly! “My mother’s
very superstitious,” she explained. “She gave me the horseshoe
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/57
to put up on my front door, but I haven’t gotten around to it.
Just chuck it on the floor.”
Ignoring the chair, Hunter came to stand in front of her.
He leaned over and grabbed the back of her chair, turning her
around to face the computer. He kept his hands on the back of
the chair, crowding into her space. “I think I’ll have a better
view from right here, don’t you?” he asked, his breath fanning
her hair.
Kiera wanted to scream. On the one hand, he’d just neatly
avoided touching the horseshoe, which should have been
suspicious. On the other hand, moving in to stand so close was
such a Hunter-like thing to do that it was hard to put any
significance into his seeming reluctance.
Admitting temporary defeat, she put her mind to showing
him the website. He made appreciative comments here and
there, and even once or twice suggested a slight change. But
every nerve in her body told her that only a small fraction of
his attention was on the computer screen. Certainly only a
small fraction of hers was. Every time he breathed, she felt the
air tickle her neck or her ear. Every time she breathed, she
noticed the scent of bay leaves and sandalwood. His voice sent
chills through her, and his body seemed to radiate heat.
When she’d finished her tour of the site, Kiera felt like
she’d just run a marathon, her heart was beating so hard. Her
lips tingled with the yearning to be kissed, and her nipples had
long ago gone hard. If she wasn’t careful, this time it would be
she who made a pass at him. She had to put some distance
between them somehow, before this went too far.
“Would you help me hang that horseshoe to make my
mother happy?” she asked, the words coming out too fast and
way too blatant. Somewhere along the line, she’d lost the art of
subtlety.
“To hell with the horseshoe,” he murmured in her ear,
then turned the chair around once more so that she was facing
him. He grasped her upper arms and pulled her to her feet. The
amazing thing was, she let him.
Kiera’s heart slammed in her chest and her eyes widened
as she read his intent, but she didn’t even try to escape as he
lowered his head and captured her lips.
The moment his lips touched hers, a deep-throated moan
escaped her and she forgot all thoughts of resistance. He kissed
lightly at first, a gentle exploration that made her ever
hungrier. She put her arms around him, hands burrowing into
the feather-soft cashmere as she tilted her head backward to
give him full access. When the tip of his tongue licked
delicately over the seam between her lips, she opened for him,
pressing herself tightly into his arms, hands stroking his back
as she imagined what that gloriously soft cashmere would feel
like against her bare breasts.
Hunter deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past her
teeth and exploring her mouth. Each caress of his tongue
heightened her desire, and she moved her hips the better to feel
the hard ridge in his pants. He moaned into her mouth and
guided her until her back was against the wall, and he used his
body to pin her there when her knees felt too weak to hold her
up. His hands seized her breasts, kneading urgently at first,
then circling the hardened nubs with his thumbs.
Kiera clung to him for dear life, the flood of sensation
overpowering. His mouth began to travel downward, hot lips
trailing burning kisses across her jaw line as he unbuttoned her
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/58
dress down to her waist. By . . . coincidence . . . she’d worn an
especially sexy black lace bra, and Hunter’s hands soon
showed their ardent appreciation. She laid her head back
against the wall, her eyes closed, her breaths shallow, her heart
racing, as his kisses continued down her throat, the scrape of
his teeth suggesting he was marking her. She didn’t care.
She should be reciprocating somehow, should be caressing
him, giving him at least a fraction of the pleasure he was
giving her. Instead, she stood selfishly still, hands buried in his
sweater, as he popped the catch on her bra and tasted her. The
rasp of his tongue against her nipple sent a delighted shiver
through her.
Hunter raised his head from her breast to give her another
amazing kiss. She dug her fingers into his hair as she felt the
soft sweep of cashmere against her bare flesh. She pressed her
breasts into him, teasing her own nipples against the softness
of the sweater. He worked more buttons loose on her dress,
then started tugging on the knot in her belt.
The phone rang.
Hunter might as well not have heard it for all the attention
he spared it. He was struggling a bit with the tight knot, but
Kiera was confident he’d manage. The phone rang again, and
she urged herself to ignore it just as Hunter was doing.
On the third ring, Kiera came back to herself enough to
wonder just what the hell she was doing. If she didn’t pull back
on the reins soon, Hunter was going to screw her against the
wall in a minute. Her body flushed with desire at the image
that formed in her mind.
The phone’s fourth ring was cut off by her answering
machine. Hunter won out over the knot in her belt, and the
strip of leather dropped to the floor. He smoothed his hands
over the skin of her belly under her dress, curving them around
the swell of her hips until they cupped her bottom.
“Kiera, honey, it’s me,” her mother’s voice said over the
answering machine, which, unfortunately, was situated in the
study so she could hear it loud and clear.
The sound of her mother’s voice was like a splash of cold
water. She had to stop this. Now.
If she could.
She reluctantly drew her hands out of Hunter’s hair and
placed them against his chest.
“I just wanted to see if you’d made any progress on that
matter we were discussing the other day,” her mother
continued, blissfully unaware of just what her daughter was
doing at the moment.
Kiera pushed against Hunter’s chest, firming up her knees
so she no longer stood so limply in his arms.
“Give me a call when you get this message, sweetheart.”
Hunter seemed uninclined to yield to the pressure against
his chest, his tongue still probing the depths of her mouth, his
hands doing wicked things to her derriere. She pushed more
forcefully and tried to turn her head to the side.
“I know you think I’m being my usual nutty self, but I’ll
feel much better when I know you’ve tried our little
experiment.”
Kiera was just beginning to feel a frisson of alarm,
wondering if she was going to be able to get Hunter to stop,
when he finally broke the kiss and moved his hands around
until they rested on her hips.
“If I’m not home when you call, just leave a message.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/59
Thanks for humoring a wacky old lady.”
The answering machine beeped again, then went silent.
Kiera swallowed hard and rested her forehead against Hunter’s
chest. Her entire body still felt the heat of desire. He was
standing so close to her, she could feel his heat, and the scent
of him nearly made her giddy. With her forehead pressed
against his chest, she could feel the pounding of his heart. His
hands still rested on her hips inside her dress as he awaited an
invitation to resume.
Gathering her courage, she raised her head from his chest
and looked up into his eyes, staring into pupils dark and dilated
with desire. Almost, she gave in to the hunger she saw there,
the hunger that sang through her blood just as intensely.
Kiera shivered, amazed at how overpowering this whole
encounter had been. Hunter’s lips curved in the barest
beginning of a smile. She matched it with an ironic smile of
her own.
“You know,” she said, “usually I don’t kiss on the first
date.” She frowned as though deep in thought. “I certainly
think this has gone far enough, since we haven’t even had a
first date yet.”
He laughed, and the sound was rich and mellow. He
smoothed his hands up her sides, then cupped her bare breasts
again. Her breath caught in her throat while her conscious
mind scrambled to rally the troops.
“How would you like to come to dinner Friday night?” he
asked, giving her breasts a light squeeze. “My place.”
She hesitated before answering. Her blood pounded in her
ears, and the long-denied hunger screamed at her to accept, but
instinct told her she needed to think this one through. The
kissing on the first date line had been crap, but she really
didn’t sleep with anyone on the first date. Nor even the second.
But she had no doubt that if she were alone in Hunter’s
apartment, he would go for the jugular. And she had lots of
doubt that she’d be able to resist.
“Come now,” he teased, “the decision isn’t that difficult, is
it?”
She looked down at his hands still cupping her breasts. “It
is when you’re doing that,” she said, a trifle breathlessly.
He moved his hands away with evident reluctance, then
even went so far as to pull her dress closed to give her some
semblance of modesty. “There, is that better?”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If I agree to
come to dinner, are you going to take that as an agreement to
sleep with you?”
He smiled down at her. “Is that how you would mean it?”
She wished he would back off, wished he would stop
crowding her with his undeniable sex appeal. “No, that’s not
how I would mean it,” she replied with admirable certainty,
although inside she wasn’t really all that certain.
“Then I won’t take it that way.” To her surprise, he took a
step backward, giving her room to breathe, though his eyes still
bored into hers. “I’m an aggressive man, Kiera. But, as I think
I’ve demonstrated, I do take no for an answer.” He brushed the
back of a single finger across her cheek. “You will be safe with
me.”
Somehow, Kiera rather doubted that. But her body
overruled her mind and its doubts, and she found herself
agreeing to arrive at his apartment at seven o’clock on Friday
evening.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/60
She hoped like hell she wasn’t going to regret this later.
Hunter was drowning in a sea of guilt. For the short time
he’d been in Kiera’s apartment with her melting in his arms,
he’d forgotten everything but the desire she kindled in him.
With single-minded intensity, he’d allowed his world to shrink
until nothing mattered but the taste of her lips and the feel of
her body under his hands. Nothing he’d done up there had been
part of his mother’s scheme. And it had felt so right! Even now
that he had withdrawn, his nerve endings still tingled with the
remembered pleasure.
When he’d made the date for Friday night, he’d barely
thought about his mission. You will be safe with me. How
could he possibly have spoken those words to her? What kind
of cold-blooded, cruel-hearted bastard would say that to a
woman he planned to seduce and impregnate? Right now, he
felt like the lowest pond scum on earth, no thrill of victory
whatsoever.
Hunter’s mood was not improved when he pushed open
the door to his apartment and scented goblin on the air. He
groaned, wondering if he had the will to control himself right
now. He felt so edgy there was considerable risk he’d go for
Bane’s throat if the goblin provoked him. He stalked into the
living room where he found Bane reclining on the sofa, an
uncorked bottle of vintage red wine clutched in his hand.
“I bought that for Kiera, not you,” Hunter said, indicating
the bottle of wine.
Bane grinned and downed another large mouthful straight
from the bottle. “I’ll be sure to leave her some.”
Hunter grimaced. “Take the bottle with you when you
leave.” He wouldn’t touch anything the goblin’s lips had
touched before him, and he certainly wouldn’t subject Kiera to
such either. After this visit, he might even have to buy a new
couch, for he wasn’t at all sure he could get the stench of
goblin out of this one now that Bane had fouled it with his
presence.
Bane set the wine bottle down and leaned forward. “How
are you feeling, Boyo? All better?” The light of cruelty shone
from his eyes.
Bane stared at him for a long time before answering.
Hunter supposed the goblin was assessing him, trying to figure
out how much he could taunt without getting himself killed.
He apparently came to the correct conclusion, and his voice
when he spoke was all business. “Just the usual. The Queen
would like a progress report.”
Hunter crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve made some
progress.” He hoped his stance and the belligerence of his
expression conveyed adequately his determination not to
elaborate.
Bane waited a couple of beats as if expecting more. When
he didn’t get it, he grinned again. “Come on, Prince, out with
it. Give me all the juicy details. What base did you get to? Or
have you already crossed home plate?”
“You can tell my mother I made progress. If she wants any
more specific details, she can stop by and we’ll have a chat.”
The goblin’s eyes hardened and he rose from the sofa.
“Don’t be a fool. You don’t dare defy her. I know plenty more
methods of hurting you without doing much damage, and I’d
love to try some of them out.”
Hunter didn’t waver. “I’ve had enough of your
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/61
interference—and of hers. I will accomplish my mission and
you don’t need to know every tawdry detail.”
Bane looked comically surprised by Hunter’s sudden show
of backbone. “Did you learn nothing from your last
punishment?”
“Remind my dear mother that she needs me right now. If
she pushes too hard, her plans will go all to ruin.”
The goblin gave him a long, narrow-eyed stare, then shook
his head as he hopped over the coffee table and headed for the
door. Hunter moved with him, prepared to lock and bolt the
door behind him.
Bane stopped in the doorway and squinted up at Hunter.
“I’ll give the Queen your message. And you’re probably right
in your assumption that she won’t retaliate just now. As you
said, she needs you. But have you considered what may happen
to you after you succeed? How many debts will you have to
pay then, eh Boyo? Worth thinking about.”
Bane slipped out without waiting for a reply. Hunter
closed the door behind him, then leaned his back against the
door and wondered what the hell had come over him. Bane
was entirely right, and Hunter was setting himself up for
terrible retribution. Once Kiera was pregnant and he was no
longer of any use, he would have to make a run for it. He’d
never dared try to escape before, remembering how terribly his
father had suffered for that mistake, and knowing his mother
would pursue him with single-minded purpose. But perhaps
when she had the prospect of a grandchild she could groom to
rule over all of Faerie, she would lose interest in him. A faint
hope, at best, but if he hadn’t already earned himself an
execution after his defiance, he had certainly earned a
punishment he had no wish to face.
Hunter noticed that Bane had left the bottle of wine on the
coffee table. He threw the bottle away, holding it gingerly with
the tips of his fingers, then called a carpet cleaning service to
steam clean the sofa. He retreated to his bedroom to escape the
lingering stink in the air.
Lying on his bed, his head pillowed by his hands as he
stared at the ceiling and listened to Kiera’s footsteps above
him, he wondered whether there had been any significance to
the horseshoe she’d had on her chair. Certainly it was an odd
thing to have sitting around in one’s office. And she had twice
suggested he touch it. Was it possible she had begun to
suspect? She’d told him her mother gave her the horseshoe,
and obviously her mother had experience with the denizens of
Faerie. Had Kiera spoken to her mother about him? And did
her mother now harbor suspicions?
It didn’t matter, he decided, sitting up. Kiera was hardly
going to bring a horseshoe with her when she came to dinner,
and he thought he’d deflected her attempts earlier with enough
grace that even if she did suspect something, she would not
feel as though she’d gained any proof.
Pushing his worries aside the best he could, Hunter set
about planning a dinner date that would shatter Kiera’s
defenses and tempt her into his bed.
Kiera badly needed a confidante, and she sure as hell
didn’t want it to be her mom. She knew what would happen if
she called her mom: she’d mention Hunter’s evasive
maneuvers vis-a-vis the horseshoe, and her mom would be
firmly convinced he was some kind of fairy with dastardly
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/62
purposes.
She giggled to herself, suddenly and unexpectedly. There
was an outside chance—slim, and still pretty ridiculous in her
mind—that Hunter was fey; however, “fairy” was not a word
she could easily associate with him.
Eventually, she convinced herself that it would be safe to
confide in Jackson. He would probably buy into her mother’s
suspicions, but he wouldn’t be quite so . . . insufferable about
it.
Jackson came by late Friday afternoon, to help her prepare
for her date, and his warm, familiar face was a welcome sight
indeed. He swept into her apartment in a cloud of Drakkar Noir
and manic energy, and before she got a word in he insisted she
show him what she was planning to wear.
Kiera frowned. “You know, I have no earthly idea,” she
admitted. She’d been thinking so hard about what might
happen once she arrived at Hunter’s apartment, she had barely
given a thought to her preparations.
Jackson patted her on the shoulder blade. “Well, let’s work
on that together, shall we?” He started for her bedroom before
she’d agreed.
Kiera hurried along behind him. “But Jackson, I have to
get my mind in order before I can deal with the details!”
“We can talk and examine your wardrobe at the same
time.” He opened the door to her walk-in closet and flipped the
light on, tapping his chin with one finger as he considered the
possibilities.
“I’m just going to his apartment, Jackson. It’s not like
we’re going to some fancy restaurant where I have to dress up
or anything.”
He tore his attention away from her clothes to give her a
knowing look. “And the clothes you wear for this intimate
little dinner in his apartment will go a long way toward
signaling your intentions. What do you want your clothes to
say, eh? ‘Keep your hands to yourself?’ ‘Take me, I’m
yours?’” He indicated her current outfit of jeans and a boxy
solid blue sweater with a sweep of his hand. “For instance, that
outfit says ‘This isn’t a date, it’s merely a friendly gettogether.’”
He perused her closet and pulled out a burgundy
silk dress with a plunging neckline—a dress she’d bought
because it was gorgeous and on sale, but one she’d never found
an occasion to wear. “This little number says ‘fuck me.’” Her
cheeks instantly colored. “Big difference, you see.”
“I thought you were here to help!” she snapped.
He put the dress back on the rack and gave her a look of
perfect innocence. “I am, darling. You said you were confused
about how you felt for him. Well, by the time we figure out
what you’re wearing to this dinner, I think it will all be a lot
clearer.”
She groaned and rubbed her face, reminding herself that
she had indeed asked for this. She’d told Jackson that things
had gotten pretty hot and heavy when Hunter had come over to
view the website. She suspected he’d read more into her words
than she’d meant to communicate. She backed away from the
closet to sit on the edge of her bed, her palms perspiring as she
tried to make sense of everything. It wasn’t as though she’d
never gone on a date before. It wasn’t even as though she’d
never gone on a date where she was contemplating whether to
sleep with the guy or not. But damn, she couldn’t ever
remember feeling this nervous about it before.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/63
Jackson abandoned the closet and sat on the bed facing
her. “Maybe you need a little perspective,” he said softly.
“This is not a life or death decision you’re making. And you
don’t need to decide right now. All I’m suggesting is that you
straighten out in your mind what the possibilities are.”
She sighed heavily. “You’re right, I know. But
everything’s swirling around in my head and I can’t tell up
from down.” She turned to him, her oldest friend, who’d seen
her through happiness and heartbreak. “Do you ever remember
seeing me in such a muddle?”
“No,” he admitted. “You usually make up your mind way
too early and then ignore any suggestion that you just might be
wrong.”
She winced. “Geez, Jackson. You’ve really been getting in
some zingers lately.”
“Sorry, but it’s true. If you meet a guy and your first
impression is that he’s the kind of man you might like, you
suddenly put these blinders on and dismiss every sign that he’s
an asshole until you’ve gotten your heart thoroughly stepped
on. And if you get the impression that someone isn’t your type,
there’s not a damn thing he can do to change your mind no
matter how perfect he is for you. The fact that you haven’t
made up your mind about Hunter is a good thing, in my
opinion. You haven’t known him long enough to make up your
mind one way or another.”
She made a gesture that was halfway between a shrug and
a nod. “So where does that leave me for tonight?”
“Okay, forgetting certainties for a moment: is there a
chance you might sleep with him tonight?”
She frowned, but the answer was inescapable when she’d
almost let him take her against the wall. “Yes.” She swallowed
hard, her hands sweating even more, and she cursed herself for
the foolish reaction.
“Then you should dress for success, so to speak.”
“I’m not wearing the red dress, if that’s what you’re
suggesting.”
“Not at all. That would signal certainty, and you aren’t
certain. What you want to do is let him know that you’re open
to the possibility.”
Jackson headed for the closet again, searching her entire
wardrobe. Eventually, he emerged with a clingy black miniskirt
and a deep green silk charmeuse blouse.
“Put these on and then let me see,” he commanded.
Kiera raised an eyebrow at him. “Do I get any say in
this?”
He grinned. “No.”
Jackson ducked out of the room to let her change. She had
only one set of sexy underwear—the one with the black lace
bra Hunter had already seen—but if there was a chance she
might end up undressing in front of him, she didn’t want to be
caught wearing bra and panties that didn’t match. She briefly
considered skipping the bra altogether, but that was not her
style at all. She decided Hunter was way too male to notice she
was wearing the same bra—or care even if he did notice—so
she went with the set.
The mini-skirt fit tightly to her curves—more tightly than
she liked, actually—but the blouse was an oversized tunic-style
button-down that hung just over her butt and made her look
decent. Of course, the outfit showed a lot of leg. She chewed
her lip anxiously.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/64
“How long does it take you to change, woman?”
Jackson’s voice startled her out of her contemplation of
her reflection. “Come on in,” she beckoned, and he soon
obliged.
If he weren’t gay, she would have described the look he
gave her as lascivious. His eyes glinted with satisfaction, and
his smile was practically wolfish. He whistled softly. “You
ought to let me dress you more often.”
She sniffed and turned back to her reflection. She had to
admit the combination was flattering, though perhaps more
alluring than she had had in mind. “I don’t know . . .”
“Well I do. You look stunning.” He made a face. “Well,”
he amended, “your body looks stunning.”
“Hey!” she cried in offended tones.
“That clown-wig hair will never do.”
“I’m about three seconds from kicking your ass.”
He was entirely unintimidated. “Someday you’ll have to
take my advice and get it cut. But for now . . . Do you have
any mousse or gel?”
Her chin jutted out stubbornly. She’d heard more carrot
jokes as a kid than she could bear to remember, and she’d
come home from school crying so many times it had become
almost habit. In an attempt to be helpful, her mom had taken
her to the hairdresser and had her hair cut short. Far from being
helpful, it had caused the kids to call her Little Orphan Annie.
When she’d become an adult, she’d vowed she would never
again let anyone make her feel embarrassed about her hair. “I
like my hair just the way it is,” she lied.
“Do you have any mousse or gel?” he repeated.
“This is me,” she said, grabbing a lock of hair and shaking
it for emphasis. “If he doesn’t like it, then tough.”
Jackson put on a look of long-suffering patience. “Do you
have any mousse or gel?”
She glared at him, but knew in a battle of stubbornness, he
would eventually win. Without speaking to him, she stalked
into the bathroom and dug in the cabinet under the sink until
she unearthed an ancient tube of gel, from which she had used
maybe two squirts. She tossed it at Jackson, who caught it
nimbly.
He wrinkled his nose and blew on the tube, raising a cloud
of dust. Other than some muted clucking sounds, however, he
refrained from comment. Next, he badgered her about hair
ornaments and she finally revealed a cache of barrettes she
hadn’t used in ages. These days when she wanted to restrain
her hair, she settled for scrunchies.
Jackson picked out a large barrette with an antique bronze
finish and several green glass beads, then dragged her to the
bathroom. Reminding him that he was not a hairdresser seemed
to do no good, and he bullied her into wetting her hair. Then,
he squeezed tons of gel into his hands and applied it liberally
to her head. He then forced her to go digging again to find the
diffuser for her blow dryer. When her hair was dry, he brushed
a few locks away from her face, securing them with the
barrette just below the crown of her head.
He declared himself finished and finally allowed Kiera to
look at herself in the mirror. She gasped.
What he had done had seemed so simple—just applied a
little gel, gently blow-dried, and pulled some locks into a
barrette—but the effect was just short of miraculous. The wild
frizz of curls was tamed into neat spirals tumbling down her
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/65
neck and shoulders, and having the locks closest to her face
caught up in the barrette revealed sleek lines she hadn’t
realized she had.
Jackson put his hands on her shoulders, his face appearing
beside hers in the mirror. “It doesn’t take a hairdresser, Kiera.
All it takes is a willingness to be pretty.”
She stared at him in the mirror for a long moment, trying
to understand what he meant. Then she shook it off and forced
a laugh. “All right, Pygmalion: you’ve done an admirable job.”
She turned around to face him, the false smile fading. “Any
advice for me on what I should do tonight?”
He leaned against the wall and gave her a gentle smile.
“I’m afraid that’s something you’ve got to figure out on your
own. The best advice I can give is to listen to your heart.”
She managed a rueful grin. “You’re just full of these little
pearls of wisdom tonight, aren’t you?”
“Hey, the wisdom of the ages is timeless.”
“And the cliches are endless.”
“But my generosity is boundless.”
“Stop it, or you’ll be toothless.”
He laughed and glanced at his watch. “It’s twenty to
seven. Put on the finishing touches and then go knock him
dead.”
Wishing she felt more sure of herself and what she wanted
from this date, she walked Jackson to the door and gave him a
big, grateful hug. Then, she returned to her bedroom to pick
out jewelry and a pair of shoes.
Chapter 8
Hunter had never felt anything like this in his life. He was
nervous. He was excited. He was filled with guilt.
His first step in preparing the evening’s seduction had
been to call a caterer—he wasn’t much of a cook himself. He’d
chosen the menu with meticulous care, everything rich and
fragrant. Medallions of tenderloin in an aromatic sauce of wine
and butter; scalloped potatoes in heavy cream, redolent of mild
onions; green beans almondine. For dessert, he’d gone with a
selection of petit-fours that reminded him of little, bite-sized
Christmas packages.
It was the second step that caused the guilt and selfloathing
to gather around him in an oppressive cloud. If he
managed to seduce her tonight, Kiera would undoubtedly insist
he use a condom. Accordingly, he had bought a couple boxes
and stashed them in the drawer beside his bed. His mission
being what it was, however, he had removed each foil-wrapped
condom and used a thin needle to poke several holes all the
way through before returning them to the box. Each jab of the
needle had made his conscience ache all the more, and he
cursed his mother for making him do this.
By some miracle, he’d managed to get his guilt at least
partially under control by the time Kiera rang the doorbell
promptly at seven o’clock. It still ate away at him, but he knew
he’d be able to conceal it, and he hoped Kiera’s enticing
presence would help keep his head in the gutter where it
needed to be. He threw open the door.
And had trouble believing it was Kiera who stood on the
doorstep before him.
She’d done something to tame the frizz of her hair, and
she’d pulled it away from her face to reveal the elegant line of
her cheekbones. Her mini-skirt displayed long, shapely legs,
and he wondered why she usually kept them so stubbornly
hidden. She smiled at him tentatively, and he realized he was
staring at her like an idiot.
Hunter snapped out of it and invited her in. “You look
stunning,” he told her, and was rewarded by a broadening of
her smile.
“Thanks. I hope I didn’t overdress for the occasion.” She
plucked nervously at her silk blouse.
Hunter smiled at her in a way he suspected conveyed his
intention to get her out of that blouse as soon as possible. “Not
at all,” he assured her, leading her to the dining alcove.
He had set the stage with consummate skill. The small
round table was draped with a white tablecloth, adorned with
delicate china plates and a pair of crystal candlesticks. Hunter
pulled back one of the chairs, and Kiera obediently sat. She
breathed deeply.
“It smells wonderful in here,” she said.
“Well, let me serve the first course, then.” He hurried to
the kitchen, where he had two salad plates chilling in the
refrigerator. When he returned to the table, Kiera was running
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/67
her fingers idly over the sterling silverware that framed her
plate. She smiled when he laid the salad plate in front of her,
but he could see at once that she was speculating.
“The silver belonged to my grandmother,” he said, making
it up as he went along. “She left it to me when she died.”
Kiera smiled at him as she picked up the salad fork. “And
what about the china? Or is that just something your typical
bachelor keeps around the house?”
He sat at the table and grinned at her. “Am I a typical
bachelor?”
She rolled her eyes. “Definitely not!”
“So, am I allowed to have china?”
“I never said you weren’t allowed to have china.”
“No, but you implied it was strange for a bachelor to have
it.”
“It is! But then, you don’t dress like your typical bachelor,
nor do you decorate like one.” Here she encompassed his entire
apartment with a sweep of her hand. “I mean, you even cook!”
He laughed. “I hate to shatter your illusions. I’ve got
plenty of eccentricities, but cooking isn’t one of them. I
worked with a caterer to arrange this meal, I’m afraid.” He
rested his elbows on the table and gave her a tragic look.
“Have I just ruined everything by confessing the truth?”
The look in her eye softened. “Not at all.”
He forced another smile, even as his stomach churned with
the bitterness of his deception. God, how he hated this! And
yet, no matter how much he hated it, his blood was stirring in
all the right ways. He gazed at the curls that cascaded down
Kiera’s neck, at the warm hazel eyes no longer shadowed by
her hair, at the enticing vee of her blouse; and desire seized
him by the throat. Had he really declared this woman homely?
How could he have been so blind?
The meal passed in surprising quiet. Hunter served each
dish with a flourish, pairing each course with the perfect wine.
Kiera told him how wonderful everything tasted. Occasionally,
they managed a little small talk, but the sexual tension in the
air was like a palpable force, killing each conversation before it
got rolling. He thought they each did an admirable job of
eating, considering they both were so supremely focused on
what would happen after dinner.
Finally, it was time for dessert, and Hunter produced the
plate of petit-fours with a flourish.
“I couldn’t eat another bite!” Kiera protested.
Hunter pulled his chair over so that it was only inches
from hers. He saw the pulse leap in her throat as he leaned into
her space and looked into her eyes. “Are you sure?” he
murmured. She looked wide-eyed and dumbstruck, and he
gave her his most seductive smile.
Without looking, he reached for the plate and picked up
one of the little pastries. It was square, iced with chocolate and
adorned with a single raspberry. He raised the petit-four to his
mouth, his eyes never leaving Kiera’s, then slowly bit it in
half. Kiera’s lips quivered faintly when he licked a stray dollop
of icing from the corner of his mouth. Then, he held the other
half of the petit-four to her lips. She hesitated only briefly
before desire took over and she opened her mouth. He laid the
petit-four directly on her tongue, lingering long enough to feel
the faint brush of her lips as she closed her mouth.
Hunter stared at her mouth as she chewed, watched
hungrily as her tongue darted out in search of any icing that
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remained on her lips. When she’d swallowed, he raised his
hand between them, displaying the icing that remained on his
thumb and index finger. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and
slowly sucked the icing off, all the while watching her face as
it flushed with desire. When he put his index finger to her lips,
she opened immediately to take it in, her eyes sliding closed as
she sucked.
Hunter moaned as he instantly swelled and hardened. Her
tongue rasped over his finger long after the last trace of icing
had disappeared. He bore it as long as he could, then
reluctantly withdrew his finger. Kiera’s lips looked unbearably
lush, and he longed to taste them.
He picked another petit-four at random and found himself
in possession of a breast-shaped delicacy with a chocolate
nipple at its apex. He ran his tongue over the chocolate and
watched Kiera’s lips quiver at the sight. He put the petit-four
halfway into his mouth, then leaned forward. Kiera’s brief look
of puzzlement faded when he touched the petit-four to her lips.
She opened her mouth, and he pressed his lips to hers, biting
the pastry neatly in half. She let out a soft moan of pleasure as
she savored her half.
Hunter did not rest on his laurels, instead reaching out to
unbutton her blouse. Her breath hissed in sharply, but she
made no protest.
When her blouse was open to the waist, he picked another
petit-four from the plate, using his hands to pull it in two.
Kiera was looking at him in mingled puzzlement and desire.
He flashed her a wolfish grin as he popped one half into his
mouth, then held the rest out to her again, one finger
conspicuously resting in the creamy filling. When she took the
pastry from his hand, he didn’t let her lips close around his
finger. Instead he brushed his finger over the top of one breast,
leaving a trail of sweet vanilla cream. Her skin shivered under
his finger, and he could see her pulse leaping in her throat. His
own pulse throbbing, he lowered his head to the top of her
breast.
The taste of her skin on his tongue was even more enticing
than the cream, and he trailed kisses along the edges of her bra.
When he raised his head, he saw that her eyes were closed,
head thrown back in pleasure, and a smile curved his own lips.
He popped the catch on her bra and thrilled at the audible hitch
in her breath. He turned momentarily from the glory of her
bare breasts to examine the plate of petit-fours, picking one he
knew was filled with raspberry jam.
When he turned back, he saw that Kiera had opened her
eyes and was watching him hungrily. He broke the petit-four in
half, feeding one half to each of them while staining his fingers
with jam. Then he rubbed those fingers over her nipples,
urging them to pucker under his caress. She was leaning
forward in her chair now, no sign of reluctance or uncertainty
in her demeanor. When he set about licking the jam off those
hardened peaks, she buried her hands in his hair and pressed
herself closer, her breaths coming in sweet, short gasps.
The blood drummed in Hunter’s ears as he tasted and
suckled and listened to the soft sighs of pleasure. He was
unbearably hard, his erection straining uncomfortably against
his pants. And he’d only just begun! With a last delicious kiss
on each nipple, he pulled away. Kiera reached for him, and he
stood and swept her off the chair and into his arms. A startled
cry escaped her lips, and she reflexively flung her arms around
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his neck. He grinned at her, a feral predator’s grin.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t drop you.”
She was silent in his arms as he carried her to his
bedroom, where before her arrival he’d put the lights on a
dimmer switch. The room was dark and romantic, yet not so
dark that he couldn’t feast his eyes when it pleased him. He set
Kiera on the bed, leaning over her to capture her lips in a kiss.
He drew her into a sitting position and slipped the blouse and
bra off her shoulders, dropping the unnecessary garments on
the floor beside the bed. Her breasts beckoned to him once
more, and he feasted while she arched beneath him, her hands
pulling at his shirt in an effort to get at his skin.
Hungry as Hunter was, he released the delectable nipple
he’d been sucking, sitting up so he could get his shirt off. The
thought of having Kiera’s hands on his bare skin made his
fingers shake with desire, and he practically tore the buttons in
his haste to get out of the shirt. Kiera laughed devilishly at his
too-obvious need. He managed a reproving cluck of his tongue
as he finally escaped the shirt.
“I’m going to have to punish you for laughing at me,” he
warned, and her eyes widened in mock alarm.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked breathlessly.
In answer, he reached for the waistband of the mini-skirt
that clung so enticingly to her curves, sliding it down to reveal
what lay beneath: a pair of black lace panties that almost sent
him over the edge. The primal urge to tear off the remainder of
her clothing and bury himself inside her was so strong that he
couldn’t resist wrapping his hands in the waistband of her
pantyhose, meaning to jerk them down.
Kiera sat up halfway, putting her hands over his to stop
him. For a fleeting moment, he took the gesture as a rejection,
and the disappointment that flooded him was as overwhelming
as the lust. Then, he realized she was merely taking over for
him, smoothly sliding the pantyhose—and the panties—down
the length of her legs until she lay before him in all her naked
splendor.
Hunter swallowed hard, fighting to control himself. If he
was going to seduce her so cold-bloodedly, the least he could
do was make sure she thoroughly enjoyed the experience.
The reminder of his purpose eased the ache in his groin
enough to bring him back under control, and he lay on his side
beside her, propping his head on one hand as the other
explored. He began with the now-familiar territory of her
breasts, teasing each nipple back to hardness, then sliding his
fingers slowly down her center. She tensed as he dipped below
her navel, but it was a yearning tension, and his hand continued
its journey.
When his fingers brushed over the first curls, Kiera’s back
arched, and she sucked in a loud, harsh breath. Her thighs
parted, and Hunter took full advantage, stroking the hot, slick
flesh in a slow, steady rhythm designed to arouse without
satisfying. He would bring her to fruition, all right, but not yet,
not until she was begging for mercy, not until he had tasted
every inch of her body. He watched with heavy-lidded eyes as
she raised her hips, trying to hurry his fingers along. He
refused to be rushed.
That refusal lasted only a few heartbeats. The feel of her
so hot and wet lit a greedy flame in his groin, and against his
conscious desires, his fingers delved deeper, stroked harder. He
wanted to feel her body rocked with the spasms of ecstasy,
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wanted to hear her voice cry out in pleasure, couldn’t bear to
wait any longer to give her the gift he still denied himself.
Kiera’s hips rose beneath his hand, and a long, drawn-out
moan escaped her as her whole body arched, her hands balled
into fists. A smile curved Hunter’s lips as he watched her face,
read the pleasure there, realized he’d caused it without the
slightest touch of glamour. For the first time in his life, he’d
made a woman come just being himself, and he realized with a
little shock that before he’d met Kiera, he hadn’t been sure that
was possible.
When she was fully sated, Hunter slid his hand reluctantly
away, still gazing down at her sweat-dampened skin, watching
the rise and fall of her breasts. She opened her eyes and smiled
at him, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek tenderly.
“Wow,” she whispered.
He smiled at her pleasure, turning his head to kiss her
palm. He’d pleasured women before, but never had he himself
gotten such pleasure out of the act, never had he felt the glow
of satisfaction that heated his chest at the moment. Never had
he realized just how wonderful it felt to give, not just receive.
Kiera’s hand slid down his face, brushing over the light
smattering of hair on his chest, making a beeline for his belt.
His manhood ached again, a desperate ache he could only
satisfy by burying himself in her warmth and softness. His
heart pounded insistently as she made short work of the buckle.
He watched her face as she started on the button of his pants,
saw the desire that still hovered in her eyes. She slid the zipper
down and ran a single finger over his hardness.
The hunger was more powerful now than he could
remember it being in all his life. Every instinct in his body
screamed for release, and the way Kiera looked at him made it
obvious she wanted him inside her.
But, damn it, she trusted him. She wouldn’t be here if she
didn’t, wouldn’t look at him with that kind of openness,
wouldn’t have let him touch her as he had. And he didn’t know
how to force himself to betray that trust. No matter how
desperate the desire. No matter how terrible the cost of
restraint. With a groan of pure misery, he reached down and
took her wrist, moving her hand away from his now painful
erection.
Kiera blinked and looked up at him in confusion. Hunter
wasn’t sure at first he’d be able to find his voice. Inside his
head, his common sense reminded him that no matter how
much it hurt, eventually he was going to have to betray her
trust, was going to have to slake his desire. The price for
failure was just too steep. He was brave and strong, but no one
was brave enough or strong enough to defy the Queen of Air
and Darkness, not when he knew the price as Hunter did.
“What’s wrong?” Kiera asked softly.
He shuddered, trying to cool his desire while searching for
a logical explanation for backing off now. Knowing nothing he
said was going to sound convincing.
“Hunter?” She sounded worried.
He let out a long, slow breath. “I forgot to buy condoms,”
he mumbled. It was the only explanation that had any chance
of working.
“What?”
He cleared his throat, and his voice came out steadier and
stronger. “I was so wrapped up in planning the romantic dinner
that I forgot to buy condoms.” He glanced at her face from the
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corner of his eye. What he saw was not promising.
There was a long silence as Kiera continued to stare at him
skeptically and he continued to avert his eyes. He was being
unbelievably obvious here, and there was no way in hell she
was going to be convinced. But it wasn’t as though he could
tell her the truth!
Hunter shook his head. “You must think I’m the world’s
worst idiot.”
Another long silence. “I don’t know what to think,” she
admitted eventually.
He forced himself to look at her, trying to ignore the
beautiful body he so badly wanted to possess. There was a hint
of hurt in her eyes, but mostly he saw there concern and
confusion. He reached out to stroke her cheek, trying a
tentative smile.
“I hope you know that I want you quite badly,” he said.
“I’m sorry I screwed up.”
She did not return his smile. “You strike me as the kind of
man who would carry a condom in his wallet.”
“Actually, I’m not,” he told her truthfully. The women he
usually consorted with were not the type to be unprepared, and
being immortal he did not fear catching a disease. “Believe me,
I had every intention of buying some today, but I got myself in
such a muddle trying to plan everything else to be just perfect
that it totally slipped my mind.”
She cocked her head as she regarded him. That she didn’t
believe him was clear. He couldn’t blame her. But there was
nothing else he could say. She huffed out an exasperated
breath. “You certainly are an enigma, Hunter Teague.” She slid
off the bed and gathered her clothes.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, miserable.
She shook her head, throwing her clothes on carelessly,
her eyes now hard and cold, her lips compressed with anger.
The glimmer in her eyes suggested there was hurt under her
anger. Hunter wished there was something he could say to
soothe it, but anything he said now would probably make
things worse, so he merely bit his tongue.
“I’ll see myself out,” Kiera said.
Wondering how he was ever going to recover from the
horrendous mess he’d just got himself into, Hunter watched
her leave.
Dressed in a warm, ragged pair of flannel pajamas, Kiera
sat on her bed with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her
eyes were swimming, but she’d used up the last Kleenex ages
ago, so she had to settle for wiping them on her sleeve.
As soon as she’d set foot in her apartment, she’d rushed to
get out of the sexy clothes she’d worn for Hunter, darting into
the shower to wash away the last sticky traces of chocolate and
jam and wash away the lingering scent of him. By the time
she’d gotten out of the shower, she’d been crying, and she
hadn’t been able to stop since.
No way Hunter was telling the truth about the condoms. If
he’d really forgotten to buy them, he would have remembered
far earlier than he had. And he wouldn’t have looked so
damned guilty. But for the life of her she couldn’t figure out
what he was guilty of. Everything had felt so good! Her
indecision as to whether she wanted to sleep with him had
faded entirely the moment she’d laid eyes on him. The sudden
certainty had lightened her heart, and she’d enjoyed his every
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lustful glance.
And when he’d started in on the dessert, she’d been beside
herself, amazed at how wonderful it felt to be wicked. There’d
been no question in her mind when he’d carried her to bed that
he meant to make love to her, and there’d been no question in
her mind that she would let him.
Why had he stopped? It didn’t make any sense. And it
didn’t make any sense for her to be curled up in a ball of
misery crying her pathetic eyes out because she hadn’t gotten
laid tonight! Angrily, she scrubbed at her wet eyes, giving
herself yet another stern lecture. It was his loss, after all! He’d
given her an orgasm that made her see stars, and he’d gotten
nothing for himself. No reason at all why she should feel hurt
and rejected.
She sniffed loudly, then jumped when the phone rang. Her
heart leapt into her throat, and hope surged through her that
this was Hunter, calling to apologize for and explain his
behavior. She lunged for the phone, picking it up before the
second ring.
“Hello?” she said, her voice coming out a hoarse, thick
croak that betrayed her tears.
“Kiera, honey, what’s the matter?” her mother asked.
Kiera cursed whatever maternal instinct had caused her
mom to call at a time like this. Then, she found herself pouring
her heart out, telling her mother between hiccuping sobs
exactly what had happened tonight. Well, not exactly. She
didn’t give details—that would have been far too
embarrassing—but she painted an accurate enough picture.
“Has he touched the horseshoe?” her mother asked when
Kiera paused for breath.
Kiera stifled another sniffle. “No.”
“Did you even try to get him to touch it?”
“Actually, I did. But it was a pretty pathetic attempt, and
even a normal red-blooded human being probably wouldn’t
have done it under the circumstances.”
Her mother sighed. “I have a bad feeling about this,
honey.”
“Mom, he’s not a fairy, all right?” It wasn’t fair to be
snapping at her mother like this, but Kiera was too wounded to
control her temper.
“I’m coming over.”
“Mother, no!”
“Yes. We need to talk. Too many strange things have been
happening lately, and we need to figure out what it all means.”
“I don’t have the strength for it. Not now.” Not ever. “I
just want to curl up and go to sleep.”
“That’s too bad. I’m coming over.”
“It’s after ten o’clock.”
“I know what time it is. I should be there in, oh, twenty
minutes.”
“Mother—” But her mother hung up the phone before
Kiera managed to finish the protest.
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Chapter 9
Kiera had reluctantly changed out of her comfy pj’s into a
comfy set of sweats. She’d splashed water on her face to wash
away the tear tracks, but her puffy eyes betrayed her anyway.
As she waited for her mother to arrive, she prayed for strength.
She felt far too vulnerable to deal with nuttiness right now, and
she feared her temper would make her say things she would
regret. She really, really didn’t want to hear about how Hunter
might be some supernatural being. He was just a very human
asshole, one of many she’d been taken in by.
The desk clerk called up to let her know she had company.
She had a fleeting urge to tell him not to let her mother up, but
figured the repercussions down the road would be unbearable.
She stood in front of her door, arms crossed over her chest,
foot tapping with frustration. Maybe when her mom got a look
at her face, she’d finally realize this was not a good time to
push.
The doorbell rang.
Even though Kiera was standing within arm’s reach of the
door, she waited a few beats, trying to calm her furious pulse,
before opening the door. The wait didn’t help any, and she
opened her mouth for a caustic remark as she swung the door
open.
The words died in her throat when she saw Phantom
standing close by his mistress’s legs. The dog stared up at her
with his usual baleful expression, and Kiera blinked.
“There are no pets allowed in this building,” she told her
mother, still looking at Phantom.
“I know.”
Kiera shook her head. “How the hell did you get him past
the doorman and the desk clerk?” She could understand if
Phantom were a toy poodle or something, but you couldn’t
miss an Irish wolfhound. The dog was almost big enough to be
mistaken for a small pony! She finally dragged her eyes away
from the wolfhound to meet her mother’s grim face.
“Trust me, sweetheart, you don’t want to know.”
“What the—”
“You’re blocking the doorway, dear.”
Too perplexed to argue, Kiera stepped out of the way. She
noticed that Phantom was not on a leash. How could her mom
walk through the streets of the city with her dog off the leash?
Didn’t she know the poor thing could get hit by a car? Or that
she herself could be fined for breaking the law?
“Mom, what is going on?”
All signs of genial goofiness were erased from her
mother’s face, and Kiera clearly saw the worry in her eyes. “I
don’t know, honey. That’s what I’m here to find out.”
“But . . . but . . .”
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“This Hunter Teague—he lives in this building, right?”
“Yes, but—”
”I’d like to meet him.”
“What?” The word came out almost a shriek, and Kiera
winced at her own tone of voice. “Why?” she asked, more
calmly.
“You’re going to have to humor me on this one. If I’m
totally off base, then I’ll keep my silly suspicions to myself
and you won’t feel quite so sure I need to be institutionalized.
If I’m not . . . Well, we’ll deal with that when the time comes.”
Kiera rubbed her eyes. “I am so not up to this right now.”
Her mom put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I
know. And I’m sorry. But I don’t think this can wait.”
Kiera blinked, yet again. What she’d meant was she
wasn’t up to having the conversation. “You mean you want to
meet him now?” she cried.
“Yes.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
Kiera shook her head. There was no way she was taking
her mom to meet Hunter, not after what happened tonight. It
would be embarrassing enough to see Hunter later, when her
nerves had calmed and when her mother was ten blocks away.
“Absolutely, positively not. End of story.”
Her mother stood up extra straight, making the most of her
height. Her eyes were frosty and determined, and Kiera
realized with a start that the green contacts were gone. She’d
never seen her mom look so grave, or so powerful. “Kiera
Malone,” her mother said in a voice that would have cowed the
most unruly school bully ever to walk the earth, “this is too
important to fight about. You are going to introduce me to this
man, and you’re going to do it now. You can yell at me all you
want when it’s over, and if I’m imagining things I will
apologize until I turn blue in the face. Now, let’s go!”
Her mother took hold of Kiera’s upper arm and started
marching her toward the front door. Kiera tried to dig in her
heels, but Phantom head-butted her from behind. She turned a
glare over her shoulder as he padded along behind them.
“You can’t drag me there by force,” she grated through
her clenched teeth. “You don’t know what apartment he lives
in.”
“Nine B.”
Kiera gaped.
“I saw one of his business cards. Now, close your door.
We might be gone awhile.” She pressed the down arrow, and a
complaining elevator started up to meet them.
Kiera considered ducking in her door and locking it
behind her, but Phantom was dogging her heels—so to
speak—and she knew instinctively that he’d be able to get
inside with her before she got the door shut. She had no wish
whatsoever to spend the night with the wolfhound in her
apartment.
Bowing to the inevitable—much as she dreaded it—Kiera
pulled her door closed and got into the elevator.
Usually, even the shortest ride seemed an eternity in this
aged beast of an elevator, but this one seemed to pass in a
heartbeat. Kiera tried another impassioned plea, but her mother
ignored her, striding up to Hunter’s apartment and ringing the
bell. Phantom placed himself right at her mother’s side, the
two of them blocking Kiera from the doorway.
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Moments later, Hunter opened the door.
Strangely, his eyes fixed immediately on Phantom,
skimming over Kiera and her mother as though they were
hardly important. Even more strangely, Phantom’s hackles rose
and his lips pulled away from his teeth.
Hunter’s face went deathly pale. “Well,” he said. “Damn.”
Kiera looked from him, to Phantom, to her mother. The
grimness was back in her mother’s face as she put a hand on
the door and pushed it farther open. Hunter didn’t resist.
“May we come in?” Kiera’s mother asked, in a tone that
said it was not a question.
Hunter held his hands to his sides, palms open, and backed
slowly into the apartment. Phantom stalked forward, stifflegged,
snarling.
“What is going on?” Kiera asked yet again, following her
mother into the room and closing the door behind her. “This is
all way too weird for me.”
Hunter finally wrested his attention from the snarling
wolfhound and met her eyes. “I think you’ll want to sit down
for this,” he said, his voice maddeningly calm.
“You don’t get to tell my daughter what to do!” her
mother growled, sounding rather like Phantom for a moment.
Hunter gave her a lopsided grin that didn’t reach his eyes.
“All right. You tell her to sit down. Assuming you plan on
answering her questions. Or making me do so.”
Her mother put a protective arm around her shoulders. “I
hate to admit it, but he’s probably right.”
Kiera swallowed on a suddenly dry mouth. “Are you
trying to tell me those mysterious suspicions of yours are
right?”
“Yes. Now, let’s all go sit down. Hunter first.” She fixed
him with a steely stare. “And keep your hands in plain sight.”
“Naturally.” He kept his hands splayed and away from his
body as he led them into the living room and sat on the
loveseat, while Kiera and her mother took the couch. Phantom,
still bristling and snarling, parked himself right in front of
Hunter.
Hunter, having now fully regained his usual composure,
lifted an eyebrow at Kiera’s mother. “Would you be so kind as
to call off your dog?”
Phantom’s snarl became louder, and he was now drooling
in eagerness. Kiera had never seen him act this way with
anyone.
“Not just yet,” her mother said. “First, tell us who you
are.”
He jerked his chin toward Phantom. “Why don’t you ask
him? He seems to recognize me.”
“Excuse me,” Kiera interrupted, “but am I going insane or
having a nightmare or something?” No one paid the slightest
attention to her.
“I would like you to tell my daughter who the hell you
are!” her mother snapped, looking every bit as dangerous as
Phantom.
“She won’t believe me, any more than she’s believed any
of your warnings.”
“You know,” Kiera interjected, “I’m sitting right here. It’s
not only not necessary to talk about me in third person, it’s
downright rude.”
Hunter sighed and finally ended his staring contest with
her mother, turning to her. “Sorry. This is just a tad awkward,
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you know.” He turned back to her mother. “Please ask the . . .
dog . . . to back off. It’s hard to think with him slobbering on
my shoes.”
Phantom let out an indignant bark and lunged. Kiera’s
mother called him off at the last possible moment. Kiera was
amazed he actually obeyed when his eyes looked so bloodcrazed.
“Good doggie,” Hunter said, and Phantom started toward
him once again.
“Stop it!” her mother commanded, and once again
Phantom controlled himself. “Keep taunting him like that and
he’ll decide to ignore me and tear your throat out. Now start
talking. Who are you?”
“My name is Hunter Teague—that wasn’t a lie.” He
turned to Kiera once more, and she saw the haunted expression
that he usually guarded so carefully. “I’m so sorry, Kiera,” he
said, face tight with strain. “For everything.”
“Tell me what ‘everything’ is,” she said, her voice
shaking.
The anguish in his face deepened. “My mother is the
Queen of Air and Darkness,” he said, and Kiera’s mother
gasped. When he saw Kiera’s blank look, he clarified. “She’s
the Queen of the Unseelie Court.”
Kiera wanted to dismiss this as nonsense, but the sense of
portentousness that hung in the air wouldn’t allow her to.
“Those are the bad guys, right? The Unseelie Court? Goblins
and bogles and things that go bump in the night.”
He closed his eyes in evident pain. “Yes.”
“What do you want with my daughter?” her mother
demanded. “And don’t bother with any more lies.”
He opened his eyes and nodded. “All right. My mother
sent me here to seduce her.”
Kiera gasped at the pain that lanced through her heart.
Another round of tears beaded in her eyes, though she
desperately wished she could keep them from falling. Hunter
winced as he looked at her.
“Please don’t cry,” he begged. “I’m so sorry.” He started
to rise, but Phantom put him back in his chair with a snarl.
For the first time in her life, Kiera thought she might
actually like the dog. Her mother shifted closer to her on the
couch and slung an arm around her shoulders, glaring at
Hunter.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t let Phantom tear
your crotch out,” she said, her arm tightening around Kiera’s
shoulders.
Hunter shook his head, still watching Kiera as she battled
the tears. “Kiera, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to
hurt you like that.”
She snorted and scrubbed at her eyes for the millionth time
tonight. “It’s a little late to worry about hurting me, you
prick!”
He stood up, incurring another growl from Phantom. He
narrowed his eyes at the dog. “Bite me,” he snapped, and
quickly crossed the distance to the sofa, where he knelt on the
floor in front of her. Phantom lunged and sank his teeth into
Hunter’s leg as he knelt. Hunter ignored him, the only sign of
pain a tightening of his features.
“I’m sorry,” he said yet again.
This had to be some kind of bizarre dream. Kiera shook
her head as if trying to clear the cobwebs. Her mother was
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sitting quietly beside her, arm still around her shoulders.
Hunter knelt at her feet, practically groveling in his futile
attempt to apologize. And Phantom continued to growl, teeth
buried in Hunter’s calf, as blood welled around the wound.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” she found herself asking.
“Yes,” he answered, “but I don’t care. Not now.” He
reached for her hand, trapping it in his own before she realized
what he was going to do.
A part of her mind said she should be recoiling, shouldn’t
let this lying imposter touch her, but it seemed too much
trouble to resist. He didn’t say anything, just clasped her hand
in what she supposed he meant as a gesture of comfort. His
face grew paler, and his palm was clammy in hers. Kiera
frowned. Much though he probably deserved to suffer . . .
“Mom, can you make Phantom let go?”
“I don’t know that I want to,” her mother answered in a
glacial voice.
“Please?”
Her mom hesitated a long moment then finally called
Phantom off. The dog reluctantly let go, his muzzle now
stained with Hunter’s blood. Kiera’s stomach threatened her
with dire retribution should she look at the blood for another
moment, so she forced her eyes away. She sat up straighter on
the sofa, and her mom took the hint and gave her a little space.
Kiera focused on Hunter’s face, seeing the pain etched into his
features and knowing that very little of it was due to the bite
wound. There was still so much she didn’t understand.
“Why?” she whispered, unable to force more sound from
her throat.
He opened his mouth to answer, then seemed to think
better of it, flicking a glance at her mother. “Does she know
who her father is?”
“I’ve told her. But she doesn’t believe me.”
Kiera shook her head. “Oh, no. No, no. My father is not
king of the fairies.”
“Finvarra is King of the Daoine Sidhe, not king of the
fairies,” Hunter said, as if that made everything better.
“And who the hell are the Deena Shee?” she asked, saying
the words as if she’d never heard them before.
Hunter looked perplexed. “Surely your mother has taught
you something about your heritage, even if you didn’t believe
it.”
“I have,” her mother confirmed. “Kiera’s just being
difficult because she doesn’t like what she’s learning.”
“Will you two stop talking about me in third person? It’s
irritating the crap out of me. And even if my father is the king
of some kind of mythological elf warriors, what does that have
to do with anything?”
Hunter gave her a stern look. “The Daoine Sidhe are not
mythological and they’re not elves.”
“Okay. A very real band of fey warriors. Is that better?”
“Yes.”
“And this matters to me . . . why?”
Hunter glanced at her mother. “Any chance you can
convince the dog not to bite me again when I explain?”
“I suspect I’ll be begging him to bite you by the time you
finish!”
“Mother,” Kiera said in a warning tone.
Her mother sniffed. “I’m afraid I see an obvious and very
nasty reason why the Queen of Air and Darkness would send
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her son to seduce Finvarra’s daughter.”
Hunter bowed his head.
“Finish the confession,” her mother insisted. “Tell my
daughter just what you were planning to do, and see if she
doesn’t want me to sic Phantom on you when you’re done.”
He heaved a massive sigh and raised his head, sad eyes
looking into Kiera’s. “I won’t blame you if you do,” he said.
“My mother . . .” He swallowed hard, and the pain in his
expression redoubled. “My mother wanted a child who would
be heir to both the Seelie and the Unseelie thrones.”
The blood drained from Kiera’s face, and her mouth went
dry. “Oh, God,” she whispered, her throat knotting up as she
realized what he meant. She shook her head, and tears spilled
despite her best efforts to contain them.
“Shall I have Phantom rip his throat out?” her mother
asked quietly.
The hurt crystalized into fury, at least for the moment. “I
think there’s another part of his anatomy I’d rather have ripped
out!”
Hunter let go of her hand and straightened his shoulders.
He flicked his wrist, and suddenly there was a knife in his
hand. Kiera gasped and realized that there was no way even
Phantom could move fast enough to save her. But instead of
attacking her or using her as a hostage, Hunter turned the blade
around and handed the hilt to her. She took it from him almost
reflexively, and he rose to his feet, favoring his injured leg as
he turned to face the bristling wolfhound.
“You want a piece of me, doggie?” he taunted. “It’s
almost a fair fight now.”
Phantom crouched as though ready to lunge.
“All right, stop it!” Kiera cried before hostilities began.
Hunter and Phantom continued to rake each other with alphamale
stares, but neither attacked.
Kiera had been able to accept Phantom’s usual behavior as
weird, but just barely within the realm of believable. But
tonight, pieces were not adding up. How had her mother
managed to get him into a no pets building? How come he was
off the leash? How come he and Hunter had immediately
started challenging one another when Hunter opened the door?
How come Hunter kept making the snide dog comments? And
how come Phantom seemed to take offense at them?
She gave the wolfhound a stare of her own, remembering
how it had shied away from the horseshoe at her mother’s
house. She pointed at him and looked at her mother. “Is that
something other than a dog?”
Her mother grinned sheepishly but didn’t answer.
“It’s a phooka,” Hunter said.
Kiera turned her attention back to him. “A phooka?” Her
mom had told her enough fairy stories that she’d heard of
phookas, but damned if she was going to admit it.
“A shape-shifter. He can do horses too, though dogs are
his forte.”
“Uh-huh.” She couldn’t help sounding skeptical, no matter
how much evidence she’d already seen that some of her
mother’s nuttiness wasn’t quite so nutty.
“I’m sure he’d be happy to show you his human form,
except, of course, that the only reason we’re even close to
evenly matched is because he’s got those nasty teeth right
now.”
The phooka was apparently as easily baited as a human
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/79
male, for suddenly the air shimmered like a heat mirage.
Moments later, Kiera blinked to see a man standing where
Phantom had been.
He was not a particularly large man, his frame more agile
than bulky. His long black hair was receding from his temples
and pulled away from his face by a leather thong. Hunter’s
blood still stained his chin.
“Size isn’t everything,” the phooka said, looking like he
wanted to burn holes in Hunter with his eyes. Kiera noticed
that his lips were still pulled away from his teeth in a dog-like
snarl.
Hunter gave him a nasty grin. “You’d better hope not.”
The phooka clenched his fists and crouched.
“Oh, Seamus, stop it!” Kiera’s mother said. “Why are you
letting him get to you?”
The phooka—Seamus, apparently—straightened up, still
eying Hunter with great hostility. “He’s Unseelie,” he said, lips
curling again.
“He’s also the Queen’s son. You don’t want to start a war,
do you?”
With a very canine growl, Seamus backed off and plopped
down onto the sofa next to Kiera. She couldn’t help staring at
him. “So, what’s your story?” she asked.
“Finvarra wanted someone to keep an eye on you,” he
answered. “Your mother wouldn’t allow him to interfere
directly with your life, so I’ve stayed with her, where I can
keep tabs on you.” He turned another one of his chilling stares
on Hunter. “Which is why I came here tonight.”
Kiera now turned to her mother. “So my father knows
about me? And you’ve seen him since I was born?”
She shrugged. “If I’d had any reason to think you’d want
to meet him, I would have introduced you. But Finvarra is . . .”
She pursed her lips and shook her head.
“The fey are very different from mortals,” Hunter said,
drawing Kiera’s attention back to him. “A very different moral
standard. Mortals who tangle with them invariably come to
harm, as your mother did.”
“As I did,” she retorted.
He flinched but held her accusing gaze. “I’m only half fey.
My father was a mortal man, ensnared by the Queen’s magic.
I’m not quite so foreign to you as your father would be.”
“Half fey, eh?” Kiera’s mother said. “In other words,
unlike Finvarra, you know what you did was wrong, and you
did it anyway.”
He nodded, eyes still meeting Kiera’s. “Yes, I know what
I did was wrong. That’s why in the end, I couldn’t go through
with it. If there was some way I could take back the pain I’ve
caused you, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” He looked at her mother.
“To tell you the truth, I’m kind of relieved it’s over. I know I
hurt your daughter’s feelings earlier tonight. The only way
even to begin setting things straight was to tell her the truth,
but she never would have believed me without you.” His nose
wrinkled. “And the phooka.”
“I think we’ve heard enough,” the phooka said. If steel
could talk, that was what it would sound like. “I think Finvarra
would agree that your Queen’s actions justify a war. And, as
you are at present unarmed . . .”
The air shimmered again and Kiera started, seeing that the
phooka had turned himself back into the snarling wolfhound.
He leapt from the sofa, crashing into Hunter’s chest and
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/80
knocking him to the floor.
“No!” Kiera cried, and without a moment’s thought she
was on her feet, ignoring her mother’s frantic warning.
Hunter had grabbed Phantom by the neck, but Phantom
was still snarling and snapping his teeth. The wolfhound
looked even larger than usual, his body rippling with muscle.
Though Hunter strained to hold the dog at bay, the razor-sharp
teeth were getting ever closer to his throat. Kiera grabbed a
handful of flesh and skin from the back of Phantom’s neck and
pulled backward.
“Get off of him!” she shouted.
Phantom suddenly whirled on her, teeth still bared, eyes
radiating fury. She stumbled backward, wondering what had
come over her, and wondering how badly she was about to pay
for her altruism. She heard her mom hurl a sharp command,
but before Phantom even had a chance to act on it—if, indeed,
he would have obeyed—Hunter grabbed hold of his tail and
yanked him away from her, putting himself between them and
holding out his arms.
“Your quarrel is with me, you son of a bitch!” Hunter said.
“Leave her alone.”
“Seamus, stop it immediately!” Kiera’s mom ordered.
“There is to be no killing! Not in front of my daughter. She’s
had enough shocks tonight, don’t you think?”
Hunter gave her the evil eye. “Are you going to mention
that he not only shouldn’t kill me, but he shouldn’t attack
her?” He waved in Kiera’s direction.
Phantom did another of his transformation acts and stood
with his arms crossed and fire in his eyes. “I wouldn’t have
bitten her, you fool. I was merely warning her off.”
Kiera wondered if now would be a good time to faint.
Certainly her head was swimming, and her stomach felt kind of
funny. She swayed dizzily and lowered her head.
“All right, enough. Both of you.” Kiera’s mom knelt by
her side, and she spoke with great gentleness. “My poor baby,”
she said, putting a hand on her back and rubbing vigorously.
“You’ve had enough for one night. Let’s get out of here, shall
we? You can stay at my place tonight.”
“And what about this Unseelie scum?” Seamus growled.
“He’s no longer our concern,” her mother answered in a
flat and deadly voice.
Kiera suppressed a hysterical urge to laugh. If only she
thought she could dismiss Hunter so easily! Seamus offered
her a hand up, and she accepted without thinking.
“Truly I would not have hurt you,” he said in a low
whisper for her ears only.
The shock had settled in firmly, and Kiera couldn’t find
the energy to acknowledge the statement one way or another.
Feeling lost and disconnected from reality, she allowed them to
steer her out of the apartment.
Chapter 10
Seamus had shifted back to his human form, but Cathy
was as ever aware that he wasn’t human. Upstairs in her old
bedroom, surrounded by her childhood memories, Kiera had
finally fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion. Now Cathy braced
herself to fight yet another battle on her daughter’s behalf.
“We now have concrete proof that the Unseelie Queen
knows about Kiera,” Seamus said. “It isn’t safe for her to stay
here, not anymore.”
“She is a mortal woman. You are not taking her to Faerie,
and that’s final.”
Seamus fixed her with one of his eerie, wise looks. “Can
you protect her from the likes of Hunter Teague, Cathy? What
about goblins? If the Queen learns her mission has failed, she
could take revenge against Kiera. In my dog form, I could have
at least held Teague off long enough to allow her to escape, but
I would be useless against a pack of goblins on the hunt. She
needs protection, and Finvarra can keep her safe.”
Cathy shook her head violently. “I am not sending my
daughter to Faerie!” She had visited there once before, when
Kiera was away at college. She’d gone in search of Finvarra,
seeking to give him the news that he’d fathered a child, hoping
to win for Kiera whatever blessings the immortal king might
be able to bestow. It had taken but a short stay to realize just
how alien the fey were. They had no concept of love or
compassion. Perhaps the Seelie fey weren’t downright evil like
the Unseelie; but they were cold and distant. Kiera would
wither under their care, and Cathy wasn’t about to let that
happen.
“You are being unreasonable,” Seamus said. “Her life is in
danger.” He was now pacing the length of her living
room—something he did frequently, whether he was in the
shape of a dog or a man. It drove her crazy in either form. “It
needn’t be forever. Just until the current danger has passed.”
“Seamus, sit down!” she snapped, knowing the phooka
wasn’t half so dense as he was pretending to be.
He stopped in mid-stride, raising an eyebrow at her.
“There’s no reason to order me about in that tone of voice. Or
have you forgotten that I am not really a dog?”
Had he been a normal phooka—Cathy made a mental note
to laugh at herself for the oxymoron later—he would have
followed a statement like that with a jaunty grin, maybe even a
phony pout. However, Seamus was the one phooka in all of
Faerie who was born without a sense of humor. Which she
supposed she should appreciate right now, for most phookas
would be making light of the situation, unable to be serious
even in the most dire circumstances.
“I’m quite agitated enough without your constant pacing,”
she told him. “And don’t change the subject.”
He shrugged with exaggerated casualness. “I thought you
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said the subject was closed.”
“It is. You are not taking my daughter to Faerie. And I
would appreciate it if you would not report this little incident
to Finvarra.”
Despite his non-existent sense of humor, Seamus laughed.
“You’re as mad as your daughter thinks you are if you believe
I will keep this from him.”
She stuck a finger in her mouth and started gnawing on the
cuticle. Maybe she should have left Seamus home tonight. But
without his help, she might not have been able to get Kiera to
leave the apartment and face Hunter. And without Seamus, it
would have been a lot harder to be certain Hunter was fey. Not
to mention he could easily have killed both her and Kiera if
Seamus had not been there to guard them.
“I will make my report as I always do,” Seamus said, but
he said it gently and rested a hand on her shoulder in a
comforting gesture. “It is not a bad thing to have the High
King of the Daoine Sidhe protecting your daughter.”
She snorted. “The only reason she needs protecting is
because he’s her father!”
The damned phooka actually smiled. “Ah, but if he
weren’t her father, she wouldn’t be who she is. Would you
have things differently?”
She gave him a curious look, even as she couldn’t help
considering his question. It was true that Kiera was the light of
her life, and without Finvarra she would never have been born.
Cathy had cursed the High King’s name many a night, but for
that one thing she could not hate him. Her throat tightened.
“Finvarra gave me the world’s greatest gift when he gave me
my daughter,” she said, not expecting the phooka to
understand. “I couldn’t bear it if he took her away from me.”
The phooka sighed. “I’m afraid I must tell him what
happened. But I will not forcibly abduct Kiera. If she doesn’t
wish to come to Faerie and be safe, then she needn’t do so.”
A painful lump formed in Cathy’s throat. She’d prepared
herself for an epic battle of wills. Never would she have
guessed that Seamus would see her side this easily. And never
would she have expected that she would actually trust him.
“Thank you, Seamus,” she said, and her voice betrayed her true
gratitude.
He inclined his head gracefully. “Thanks to you, I have
spent many a year in the mortal world. When first I arrived, I
might not have understood your stance. Now, I do.”
Cathy doubted that. True, he had over the years seemed to
have gained a greater understanding of mortal behavior. When
Finvarra had first sent him, Seamus had stewed in resentment
at what he considered a form of exile. He’d been as insensitive
a bastard as Cathy had ever met. Now, he no longer seemed to
chafe at his mission, and he could even be rather a pleasant
companion at times. But he was fey still, would always be, and
though he might understand Cathy’s motivations and decisions,
she did not necessarily understand his.
“I don’t believe Teague will make any rash moves before I
return,” Seamus continued, “but in case I’m wrong, I would
suggest you persuade your daughter to stay with you. And
shore up your wardings.”
“Yes, yes. Of course.” She walked Seamus to the front
door—the only entrance to her house that was not guarded
against Faerie intrusion. Decorative iron grills adorned her first
floor windows, and the second floor windows sported
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miniature iron balconies. She could add some St. John’s wort
and some twigs of broom to the mix to further discourage
intrusion.
“Ward the front door,” Seamus reminded her as he slipped
out into the darkness.
Usually, the front door was the only entrance to her house
that was not warded—if anyone managed to break in, he would
have to face Seamus in his dog form, and that was sufficient
protection. But, while Seamus was in Faerie making his report,
she supposed she should take his advice.
Cathy retrieved an iron knife she had reserved for just
such a necessity, putting it under the front doormat. For a long
moment, she stared out into the frosty darkness, wondering just
how much danger her daughter was in. Then she dismissed that
speculation as useless and closed the door.
Hunter was not in the habit of keeping bandages around
the apartment, so the best he could do after he’d thoroughly
cleaned out the phooka’s bite wound was to rip up a shirt and
use the strips to bind the wound. As wounds went, it wasn’t too
serious. The dog’s teeth had sunk into the fleshiest part of his
leg, clear of vital arteries, and though it throbbed relentlessly,
he had endured much worse.
What ached far more was the wound in his soul.
He would never forget the stricken look on Kiera’s face
when he had admitted his mission to seduce her. Nor would he
forget the even worse look when he’d said why. The despair
that flooded him at the memory told him he cared about Kiera
far more than he’d allowed himself to admit. But then, hadn’t
his actions proven that already? He had endured a terrible
beating for her sake, and last night had risked another more
dire punishment for not taking her to bed when he had the
chance. If that wasn’t evidence of how he felt, he didn’t know
what was.
After he’d cleaned himself up, he returned to the sofa
where the fateful interview had taken place, bringing with him
a bottle of Scotch. He steadily worked his way through the
bottle. The alcohol did little to drown his sorrows, but perhaps
if he drank enough he would eventually pass out.
Kiera would have her revenge, if only she knew it. He
hadn’t bothered defending his actions earlier, hadn’t told her
what price he would pay for failure. That did not mean he had
forgotten about it himself. He smiled grimly as he took another
swig of Scotch. In the end, as badly as he had hurt Kiera, it
was he who would suffer the most. How long would it take
him to die? A week, as it had taken his father?
A shudder ripped through him. Best not to think about
what fate awaited him. Best instead to be thankful he had
refrained from bedding Kiera tonight. At least he would not
have that stain on his soul when he went to his death.
He didn’t know how much longer he had before Bane
learned of his failure. He might be able to bluff for a little
while, put off his ultimate torment. Perhaps it was the coward’s
way out. Perhaps he should just admit his failure and take the
consequences like a man. Even so, he could not deny his own
will to live, and he would do what he could to extend his life,
if only for a few more days.
Wondering whether he could do anything in those few
days to ease Kiera’s pain at his betrayal, he eventually drank
himself to sleep on the couch.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/84
Kiera nursed a cup of coffee as she sat cross-legged at her
mother’s kitchen table. She had slept like the dead last night,
once she’d finally fallen asleep. Her head felt stuffed with
cotton this morning, and it was hard to believe anything that
had happened last night had not been part of a dream. But if it
had been a dream, she would not now be in her mother’s
house.
“Talk to me, honey,” her mom prompted. “You must have
more questions. Or even some harsh words you’d like to get
out of your system. I’ll hold still for it, and I promise not to
fight back.”
Kiera blew on the coffee, producing a puff of steam that
momentarily blurred her mother’s face. For one of the few
times in memory, she honestly didn’t feel like yelling at her
mother. How could she, after all? Her mother had proved that
all of her fanciful, ridiculous notions—well, some of them, at
least—hadn’t been so ridiculous after all. And her mother had
revealed Hunter Teague for what he was.
Kiera’s heart clamped down hard in her chest. She gritted
her teeth and ordered herself not to cry. Why should she be
surprised? Her common sense had told her from the very
beginning that men like Hunter didn’t pursue women like her.
If she’d listened to her damned common sense, she wouldn’t
have let him hurt her like this.
Her face was turning red—she could tell by the heat in her
cheeks. She braced herself in case her mother started pressing
her, but instead she merely poured herself another cup of
coffee.
“Seamus has returned to Faerie to give your father a
report,” her mother said.
Kiera tried to shake off the funk, taking another sip of
coffee and burning her tongue. Seamus, at least, was a
relatively safe topic. She remembered when her mom had first
gotten the wolfhound, about twelve years ago. “So, has
Phantom always been a phooka, or was there a real wolfhound
around here at some point that he just substituted for?” Kiera
didn’t know why she bothered to ask. The dog had been weird
from the moment she’d met him, and now she knew exactly
why. But if she kept her mother talking about Seamus, perhaps
she could avoid talking about—or thinking about—Hunter.
Her mother grimaced. “When you were away at college, I
finally figured out how to get into Faerie—not an easy thing
for a mortal to do, let me tell you. I went to tell Finvarra about
you, thinking that even an immortal king might care that he’d
fathered a daughter. Unfortunately, I was right.”
“Unfortunately?”
Her mother met her gaze, looking sad and wistful. “As
Hunter said last night, mortals who tangle with the fey
invariably wish they hadn’t. From the moment he learned of
your existence, Finvarra has pressed me to take you to Faerie.
He thinks you will be safer there, and you certainly will be, at
least physically.” She swallowed audibly, and when she
continued her voice held the rasp of incipient tears. “But it is a
cold and lonely land for a mortal. Finvarra could never love
you. He’s no more capable of love than any of the other fey.
His interest in you is solely because you are his daughter, and
therefore a likely political pawn.”
Kiera reached over the table and clasped her mother’s
hand. “Don’t cry, Mom,” she begged, fearing her mom’s tears
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/85
would send her over the edge as well. “I couldn’t care less if
my father loves me or not. I’ve never even met him.”
Her mother shook her head. “I know, honey. I’m just
afraid he’ll take you away is all. I’m afraid he’ll keep you
physically safe and you’ll live in Faerie alone and miserable.”
“I’m not going to Faerie!” Geez, could this mess get any
worse?
“No, you’re not. Not if I have any say in it. But if Finvarra
fears that Hunter can still get to you . . . He would never allow
a child with Unseelie blood to threaten his throne.”
Kiera frowned in puzzlement. “Finvarra’s not exactly a
spring chicken, is he?” she asked.
Her mom looked equally puzzled by her question. “No,”
she said slowly, “he’s . . . ancient.”
“So doesn’t he have lots of older heirs running around?
How could a child of mine threaten his throne?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but the Unseelie Queen seems to
think there’s a way, and I tend to believe her. There is great
significance and magic in fey blood. I imagine the mingling of
those two bloodlines would create an unusually powerful
character.”
Kiera chewed on that a little while. Surely there was no
longer any threat to Finvarra’s throne. Hunter would go home,
now that he had failed. He couldn’t possibly believe he could
get her to bed after all she’d learned, and though she supposed
he might try to rape her, he could hardly guarantee that would
get her pregnant.
Unbidden, an image came to her mind of his anguished
face as he’d told her the truth last night. Something within her
thawed, just a little. The seduction had all been an act, but she
suspected his guilt was not. Despite his terrible mission, he had
indeed spared her when she would have gladly given her body
to him, and there was no reason for him to fake his distress
during his confession. For whatever reason, Hunter truly
wasn’t anxious to hurt her, and so she pushed aside any
thought that he might try to take her by force. If he was still
around.
A chill crept up her spine. If Finvarra knew Hunter’s
mission, and if he was determined not to risk the possibility of
her having Hunter’s child, there was an even more sure way of
preventing it than taking Kiera to Faerie.
Kiera turned to her mother, sure her face had turned white.
“Will Finvarra try to kill him?” she asked.
Her mother’s eyes turned fierce. “I hope so!” she snarled,
and Kiera was startled by the force of those words. Her mother
leaned her elbows on the table. “That bastard hurt you, and
would have hurt you much, much worse if Seamus and I hadn’t
stopped him. The only reason I didn’t let Seamus rip his throat
out last night is that I knew it would upset you.”
Kiera gaped. Where was the genial goof she had grown up
with? The woman sitting across the table from her was a
lioness protecting her cubs, and Kiera felt as though she’d
never met her before. “Yes, he hurt me,” she said, “but he
doesn’t deserve to die for it. Finvarra had better not kill him!”
The lioness disappeared and was replaced with her mom
again. “Finvarra does what he pleases when it pleases him.
There was never a more selfish creature born, either in Faerie
or in the mortal world. If he decides he wants Hunter dead,
nothing anyone says to him will sway him.” She shook her
head. “Keep in mind, however, that the Queen of Air and
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Darkness is much, much worse.”
Kiera’s coffee had gone cold from neglect, and she rose to
dump the contents and pour a fresh cup. “Tell me more about
this queen,” she said as she hunted through the refrigerator for
the half and half. “Why do you call her the Queen of Air and
Darkness? Doesn’t she have a name?” She poured a shot of
half and half into her coffee then returned to the table.
“Actually, she doesn’t. She’s not like Finvarra. He’s a
real, living being—immortal, but still tied to the flesh. The
Unseelie Queen is more like an elemental force. She has a
body, and it’s flesh and blood, but the body is not her. If that
makes any sense.”
“None whatsoever.”
Her mother laughed. “The Queen is an incorporeal being.
However, that being is clothed in flesh. It’s kind of hard for an
incorporeal being to rule, not having a body or voice. So, the
magic of the Unseelie Court creates this body, this host for her
spirit. But that body is not really her. You could kill that body,
and the Queen would still exist, and the Court would generate
another.”
Kiera shivered. “Weird.” An understatement, to be sure,
but she couldn’t think of a better way to describe it. She
wondered what it was like to have that as a mother, and she felt
a moment of sympathy for Hunter. Then she remembered that
he had been planning to sacrifice his own child to the Queen,
and the sympathy faded.
Still feeling shaken to her very core—and wondering what
on earth she was going to do with her life after all that she’d
learned, Kiera fell silent. Her mother let that silence last for
maybe ten minutes.
“When Seamus gets back, we should go to your apartment
and pack a bag for you.”
The words jolted Kiera out of her thoughts. “Excuse me?”
“For the time being, at least, it would be best if you stayed
here with me. This house is well protected, and between me
and Seamus—”
Kiera held up her hand. “Hold it right there!” Her mother
jerked back, as if surprised. “You won’t let Finvarra whisk me
away to Faerie and hold me prisoner for my own protection,
but you think I’ll agree to be held prisoner in your house for
the same reason?”
Her mother looked gravely offended, though Kiera
suspected it was an act. “Why, Kiera, how could you think
such a thing? I’m not talking about holding you prisoner, for
heaven’s sake! All I want is for you not to be completely alone
and vulnerable.” Her voice gentled. “Besides, you’ve been
deeply hurt. You would not be the first woman to spend time at
her mother’s house under those circumstances.”
Kiera rubbed her eyes, really wishing she could wake up
and find out this was all a dream. “I’m thirty-one years old.
Mom, I love you, but I could never live with you.” It would be
dangerous to her health. Her mother’s, too, as Kiera had
already exceeded her previous record for being in her mother’s
company without wanting to strangle her.
“It would just be for a little while.”
“No. Nothing has really changed between yesterday and
today. The only thing that’s happened is I’ve learned more of
the truth. I’m going to live in my own home, and I’m going to
try to put my life back exactly where it was.”
“With Hunter living in the apartment right below you?”
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“I’m sure he’s gone by now. Why would he stick around?”
Her mother gave her a long, hard stare. “He’ll still be
there,” she said, her voice sounding certain.
Kiera frowned. “But why?”
Her mother shook her head. “Never mind. Just take my
word for it, he will stick around as long as he can.”
“Mother, what do you know that you’re not telling me?”
“Many, many things, dear child.”
Kiera rolled her eyes. “Fine. Be mysterious about it. See if
I care.” She pushed away from the table. “I’m going home
now.”
Her mother pushed away also. “No, you most certainly are
not! I’m telling you, Hunter will still be there, and he is still
dangerous. If you can’t bear to stay here with me, at least let
me put you in a hotel incognito.”
Kiera shook her head. “No. Mom, it’s not like the guy is
going to be able to seduce me now anyway, so stop being so
overprotective.” She started toward the front door.
“Are you sure?” her mother asked, halting her in her
tracks.
She gave her mother a dirty look. “How stupid do you
think I am?”
“Remember the glamour, dear.”
The glamour that had almost moved her to have sex with
Hunter in the elevator. Kiera frowned. But she had shaken the
glamour off that time, despite how hot it had made her feel.
And she was sure that last night, Hunter hadn’t used it against
her even for a moment. Which was either a sign that he had a
conscience, or a sign that he realized the glamour didn’t work
well enough on her.
“I’m not worried about the glamour,” she finally decided,
once more heading for the door. Her mother ran up behind her
and put a hand on her arm.
“Kiera, please—”
Kiera shrugged her mother’s hand off. “I’ll be fine,” she
said. “I’ll put the damned horseshoe on my door, and if I have
even a hint of trouble I’ll call you.”
There was a tense moment when Kiera thought her mother
was going to use brute force to get her to stay. The moment
passed, and Kiera hurried out the door before her mother
changed her mind.
Kiera spent a half hour trying to concentrate on work, then
decided to stop fooling herself. She shut off the computer and
leaned back in her chair, wondering if she was being a total
fool for insisting on coming home.
In the end, her insistence could end up being in vain. She
imagined that as soon as Seamus returned from Faerie, he and
her mother could very well arrive on her doorstep and
physically remove her from the premises. She wasn’t sure it
would be any protection against any such kidnaping “for her
own good,” but she nailed the horseshoe firmly to the door,
mangling the nails badly enough that her mother wouldn’t be
able to pry the horseshoe loose and let Seamus in herself.
Although she’d been initially skeptical of her mother’s
claim that Hunter would still be here, Kiera now felt a strange,
intuitive certainty that it was true. It was almost as though
there were a link between them, for she was painfully aware
that he even now prowled the apartment below hers. Before
last night, she would have dismissed that intuition as silly, but
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now she wasn’t so sure. Her mother had hinted that there was
some reason he would remain, some reason she’d been
unwilling to reveal.
Damn it, how was she supposed to protect herself against
the threat if her mother refused to tell her all the facts?
Kiera wasn’t even aware of what she’d decided to do until
she felt herself moving toward her front door in purposeful
strides. When she pulled the door open and saw the horseshoe,
she paused, her conscious mind catching up with her
unconscious.
Hunter was a threat to her in so many ways. He threatened
her body, her heart, maybe even her soul. Far and away the
most dangerous man she had ever met. But last night, he had
been on the brink of victory and had spared her. It didn’t even
come close to forgiving his actions, but it did give her reason
to believe she might be safe in his presence. And she had
things she wanted to say to him, things she had not been able
to say last night, for she had been far too shocked to think
coherently. Not to mention some of those things were not
meant for her mother’s ears.
“Mom will have a heart attack if she ever finds out about
this,” she muttered under her breath as she stepped into the
elevator and pressed the button for the ninth floor. Going to
face Hunter alone and unprotected was objectively one of the
stupidest things she’d ever done, but her instincts were leading
her to do it anyway. So far, every instinct she had ignored had
turned out to be right. Just this once, she would try listening to
them.
The self-assurance faded when she found herself faced
with Hunter’s front door. Seeing his face again, remembering
how she had started to feel about him, was going to hurt. But
perhaps it would be a good pain, a cleansing pain. “It’s for
your own good,” she whispered to herself, then rang the
doorbell before she had a chance to chicken out.
No sound of footsteps stirred within, and she wondered if
her sense that he was here was just a fantasy. She chewed her
lip, trying to decide whether to ring again. Maybe the fact that
he hadn’t answered was a sign that she needed to get the hell
out of here. She was just taking a step backward when the door
swung open.
Hunter looked dreadful. His skin, always pale, was now a
ghastly white. His shadowed eyes were bloodshot, and he was
still wearing last night’s shirt, now badly wrinkled, though he
had at least changed out of the blood-stained pants. Instead of
the usual seductive scent she associated with him, she now
smelled stale alcohol. He glanced up and down the hall then
focused on her again with a frown.
“Why are you here?” he asked, and she could tell nothing
of how he felt about her presence from that flat, dead tone.
“I thought you and I had some unfinished business to take
care of.”
He sighed heavily, his whole body seeming to sag. He
stepped back and opened the door wider. “All right. Come on
in. But let me warn you, you’ll have a hard time making me
feel any worse than I already do.”
“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” she said as she brushed by
him. The living room seemed the best place to have this
discussion, so she headed for the couch she had occupied last
night during the explanations. She halted when she saw the
dried blood that stained the carpet, then turned to see Hunter
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limping toward her. He lowered himself into the love-seat,
stretching his injured leg out in front of him.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing her to sit
down.
Reluctantly, she did so, noticing the half-empty bottle of
Scotch that sat on the end table beside Hunter. She jerked her
chin in the direction of the bottle. “Are you drunk?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not anymore. Just
hung over.” He leaned back in his chair, resting his head
against its back. Despite the pose, he did not look in the least
relaxed.
“Are you all right?” Damn it, why did she care? She was
here to give him a piece of her mind, not sympathy!
“Physically? I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”
Her backbone stiffened. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for
you?” He looked away and didn’t answer. Her words had been
scornful, but it was damned hard not to feel sorry for him when
he looked so miserable, no matter what he’d done. Some of the
tension eased out of her shoulders, and with it some of the
anger. “The good news is that I don’t feel quite as awful as you
look,” she said, and bad as she felt, it was true.
Her words surprised a hint of a grin from him. “In that
case, I had better stay away from mirrors.”
She looked down at her hands. Better not to be looking at
him, better not to let sympathy melt away her anger. “I deserve
an explanation, don’t you think?” she asked.
To his credit, he didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Ask me anything
you want to know, and I swear I’ll tell you the truth.”
“All right. What happened last night, in your bedroom?”
“Just as I said: I couldn’t go through with it. I had
condoms, but I’d poked holes in all of them. Unfortunately,
unlike my mother, I have a conscience.”
Her head jerked up and she met his eyes. “Unfortunately?”
she cried. Everyone seemed to be losing their minds these
days!
This time, he did not flinch from her gaze. “For me, yes.”
He sat up straight. “Believe me, Kiera, you will be well and
truly avenged.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
He shook his head. “Why have your mother and the
phooka let you out of their sight?”
“Oh, no. You are not changing the subject on me. Tell me
what you meant.”
“I’ve said enough. More than I should have, actually. I’m
a fool.”
“You said you would tell me the truth. Or was that just
another of your lies?”
The muscles of his jaw danced as he ground his teeth. She
waited patiently while he waged his internal war. Finally, he
reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose again. “Damned
if I do, and damned if I don’t,” he muttered. He threw up his
hands in a helpless gesture. “I’d promised myself not to make
excuses, but there’s no way I can explain without sounding like
that’s what I’m doing.”
She shrugged. “My next question was going to be ‘why
did you do it,’ so you’re going to have to give me your excuses
no matter what.”
His lips twisted into a wry grin. “You are a pitiless
interrogator.” The grin disappeared as though it had never
existed. “All right. I’ll do my best to explain.
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“I told you last night that my father was a mortal man.
When I was a child, he tried to take me away from the
Unseelie Court. We were caught, and my mother had him
executed—slowly—before my eyes.”
Kiera recoiled in horror.
“She isn’t capable of affection, or loyalty, or mercy. The
fact that I’m her son gives me no protection. When she gives
me an order, I have to obey her.” He met her eyes, and she
read the truth of his words. “I can endure a lot of pain, Kiera.
This,” he continued, indicating his wounded leg, “wasn’t even
enough to make me flinch. But the Queen can inflict such
torments as no man, mortal or fey, can endure.
“So when she ordered me to seduce you, I had no choice
but to do as she wished. It was never something I wanted to do.
I suppose at first I was mostly bothered by the idea of handing
a helpless child—my child—over to my mother.” He licked his
lips. “But that’s not what stopped me last night. I just couldn’t
bear to betray you like that.” He hung his head once more.
“You won’t believe me, but I’ll tell you anyway: I wasn’t
faking anything last night. I wanted you very badly, and it had
nothing to do with my mission.”
Kiera blinked, tears beading in her eyes despite her stern
reprimands to herself. Hunter was a liar of the worst sort. She
shouldn’t believe a word he said. No matter how much she
wanted to . . .
“My mother doesn’t take failure much better than she
takes disobedience,” Hunter continued. “When she learns I
have failed, I will suffer for it, and you’ll have your revenge.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly chilled by
the thought. True, she’d had flashes of anger, when she’d felt
like she could have torn him apart with her bare hands. But the
overwhelming emotion had been hurt, not anger. “I don’t want
revenge, Hunter,” she said, recognizing the words as true only
when she spoke them. “I just want . . . closure, I guess.”
He propped his elbows on his knees and lowered his head
into his hands, shoulders slumped in despair. “Please stop
being so damned gentle about this. Yell at me, call me names,
kick my shins. Something!”
Not so long ago, that’s exactly what she’d thought she
would do if she had the chance. But not now.
Kiera stood and crossed the distance between them,
tentatively sitting beside him on the love-seat and putting a
hand on his back. “You’re not the first person who’s hurt me,
Hunter, and you surely won’t be the last. I’m built of some
pretty stern stuff. Don’t flatter yourself to think that in so short
a time you can completely destroy me.”
He turned his head enough so he could see her, his
expression suggesting he thought she was nuts. Slowly, he
raised his head from his hands, staring at her all the while.
“After what I’ve done to you, you would sit here and offer me
comfort?” he asked.
Never had she guessed that this was how she’d feel upon
confronting him, but she grew steadily more certain of herself.
“The thing is, you didn’t do it. Despite all you had to lose, you
let me go last night.”
He narrowed his eyes, looking stubborn as a little boy. “I
would have tried again, if your mother hadn’t intervened.”
“And if you couldn’t do it last night, what makes you
think you could have done it the next time? If I’d been willing
to give you a second chance, that is?”
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/91
He sputtered a moment, then gave up, looking comically
helpless. “All it takes to defeat me is feminine logic!” he
declared, but if he thought the sexist remark would get a rise
out of her, he was mistaken.
“I think beneath it all, you’re not quite as much a villain as
you would have me believe.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring her words.
Then he threw open his arms and drew her into a lung-crushing
hug. “And you, Kiera Malone, are a priceless gem,” he
murmured into her hair with fierce affection.
Kiera was still trying to decide how to react to his effusive
gesture when the doorbell rang.
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Chapter 11
“Uh-oh,” Kiera said, and Hunter released her immediately,
his body going stiff with tension.
“Stay here,” he told her, rising to his feet. His calf
throbbed in protest
“It’s probably my mother and Seamus tracking me down.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Keep out of sight.”
Suspicion momentarily tinged her glance, but she nodded
her agreement. He tried not to limp as he approached the door
and put his eye to the peephole.
As he had suspected, it wasn’t her mother; it was Bane.
Hunter distributed his weight between his two legs as best he
could, enduring the pain for the sake of not appearing weak.
The goblin would probably smell the blood and know he was
injured even so.
Hunter opened the door a crack, leaving the chain on. “I’m
not alone here,” he said in an irritated, urgent undertone.
Bane looked him up and down, an ugly grin creeping over
his face. “Look’s like you’ve had quite a night, Boyo.” His
nose wrinkled. “Have you gotten a whiff of yourself lately?”
The goblin thought he smelled bad? How had Kiera let
him put his arms around her under the circumstances? “If we
have to have this conversation, can we do it some other time?”
he asked.
Bane stretched his neck to try to see into the apartment,
but Hunter blocked his view. The goblin shook his head. “If
you had anyone in there, you wouldn’t look like such shit.
Let’s have a nice little chat, shall we?”
For all that he was hurt and hung over, Hunter’s reflexes
served him well, and his hand darted out to grab Bane’s wrist
before the goblin managed to shove him into the apartment.
Hunter squeezed hard—although it hardly seemed to bother
Bane— and leaned forward. The last thing he wanted was to
let Bane anywhere near Kiera.
“If you ruin everything, your head will roll,” Hunter said
in a low and deadly voice. He hated even to pretend that he
was still planning to do Kiera such harm, but he had already
decided he would try to delay his punishment as long as
possible.
Bane chuckled. “Somehow, I don’t think it’s my head
that’s gonna roll.”
“Hunter?” Kiera called, and Hunter had to stifle any
number of curses. Her voice was not coming from the living
room where he’d ordered her to stay.
He turned his head and gave her his most chilling glare,
willing her to retreat, but though he thought she understood the
silent command, she continued to approach. Before he could
figure out his best strategy to chase her back into the living
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/93
room and out of Bane’s sight, she sidled up to him and put her
hand on his shoulder.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t keep me waiting long,”
she said, her voice conveying a sultry pout as she blinked up at
him.
Hunter’s head ached, and he couldn’t make sense of
anything. He looked at her as though she’d gone mad, and she
snaked her other arm around him, pressing her cheek to his
back. He wondered for a moment if this was some kind of
liquor-induced hallucination. He turned his gaze back to Bane
and saw that the goblin looked almost as surprised and
perplexed as Hunter felt.
“Well,” Bane said, gathering his wits faster than Hunter
did, “I can see you’re . . . busy. I’ll stop by some other time.”
“Uh, sure,” Hunter managed to say, painfully aware of the
warmth of Kiera’s body against his back. “Nice of you to drop
by.”
“Uh-huh.”
With a last shake of his head, Bane backed away from the
door, and Hunter swung it shut. The moment the door caught,
Kiera released him, and he had to fight a wave of yearning.
How good her arms had felt around him! The need to feel them
again almost overwhelmed him.
With a deep, shaky breath, he reeled himself back in and
turned to face Kiera. She had her arms crossed and was
watching him with a jaunty grin. It took him a couple of tries
to find his voice.
“Why did you do that?” he asked, then bit his tongue for
being so abrupt.
Kiera appeared unaffected by his tone of voice, though her
grin did fade to be replaced by a grave look. “That was one of
your . . . associates, right?”
Hunter wanted to spit with distaste. “Yes.”
She shrugged. “You said you would suffer if they found
out you failed. I thought it would be best if they didn’t find out
just yet.”
He gaped at her, her kindness making him ever more
aware of how badly he’d wronged her. “You would help me
after what I’ve done?”
She put a hand on his arm, then urged him into the living
room once more, where he sank helplessly into a chair. Kiera
sat across from him, peering at his face in concern. “Maybe
I’m being an idiot and fooling myself,” she said, “but I think
you’re feeling shitty enough that I don’t need to make it any
worse.” She sighed. “You hurt me pretty bad. But I’m not
really the vindictive type.”
He tried to think of any other instance in his life where
he’d experienced true forgiveness. Oh, he’d read about it in
books, and seen it on the occasional TV show during his forays
into the mortal world, but it had always seemed a fiction, not
something that happened in real life. “You know, I’ve never
been able to forgive my father for dying and leaving me in my
mother’s care. Even though I know he had no choice. And yet
you can forgive me, when I almost . . .” He shook his head. His
heart felt full to bursting, and he longed to draw Kiera into his
arms. If he didn’t know such an thing was impossible, he
might almost have convinced himself he was in love with her.
But he was fey and Unseelie, and love was forever denied him,
perhaps the bitterest curse his mother had inflicted upon him.
Kiera’s smile was still tinged with sadness, but her eyes no
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longer seemed shadowed with hurt or fury or even pity. In fact,
except for the dark circles around her eyes, she looked almost
herself again, and Hunter allowed himself to hope that the
wound he had inflicted on her heart was not a fatal one.
“So,” she said, “do you think it’s time for you to take a
shower and rejoin the living?”
His lips stretched into a grin. “I suppose it is. I promise to
stop wallowing in self-pity, all right?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you were doing?”
He grimaced. “Yes. Thank you for reminding me what a
worthless exercise that is.”
“You’re welcome. Now, tell me how long you have before
your cover is blown.”
He was sure she saw the cloud of dread that passed over
him, but he did his best to hide it anyway. “You certainly
bought me some time today. If you’re willing to visit with me
occasionally, I can probably stretch out the charade for a few
weeks before anyone gets suspicious enough to sniff out the
lie.”
“And what happens when they do?”
I die. “Let’s not talk about it.”
“Hunter, tell me what’s going to happen!”
“Don’t ask me that.”
Her eyes filled with worry, and a fierce frown furrowed
her brow. “They’re not going to kill you or anything, are they?
I mean, you are the Queen’s son after all.”
“No, they’re not going to kill me,” he said, and he thought
he managed to do so without any noticeable hesitation.
Kiera crossed her arms and glared at him. “You promised
me no more lies, remember?”
He looked away and cursed under his breath. He had made
that promise not considering the possibility that he might need
to lie for her own good. But after betraying her trust so badly,
he couldn’t bear to do it again, especially not when it looked
like she’d already sniffed out the lie. He ran a hand through his
disheveled hair.
“All right,” he agreed. “No more lies. They’re going to
kill me. In the Unseelie Court, failure is a crime punishable by
death.”
“Oh, Hunter!” she cried, her eyes glistening with distress.
“There is, perhaps, some sort of poetic justice to it. Before
I was ordered to seduce you, my primary duty at Court was to
hunt down those who had failed the Queen. I brought many an
Unseelie creature back to Court to face the Queen’s ‘justice.’
It’s only fitting that I end the same way. Besides, in the long
run, it might not be such a bad thing.” His voice had dropped
to almost a whisper. “There is no joy living in the Unseelie
Court. All my life, my highest goal has been to survive. The
weeks I’ve spent here have given me a taste of the freedom
I’ve been missing. I don’t know that I could have borne going
home anyway.”
Kiera looked as though she was about to say something,
then changed her mind. She blinked away the sheen of tears
and gave his hand a warm squeeze. “We’ll cross that bridge
when we get there, I suppose.”
He raised her hand to his lips in a shadow of his old
courtly gestures. Their eyes met when he planted that delicate
kiss on her knuckles, and for a moment the heat between them
stirred again. Hunter let go of her hand quickly, before she
could rebuff him. Then, he escorted her to the door.
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“No more drinking, right?” she asked as she stood in the
doorway.
“No more drinking,” he agreed. “When next you see me,
I’ll be clear-headed and decently dressed.”
“And when will that be?”
“I think that’s up to you. I’m more grateful to you than I
can possibly express in words for giving me this extra time.
Call the shots however you want—in this, I am your slave.” He
gave her an ironic little bow and she laughed at him.
“Go take a shower. And drink some coffee—I think you’re
not a hundred percent sober yet.”
Echoing her laugh, amazed that he was able to do so, he
watched her step into the elevator. For a long time after she
had left, he stood there in the doorway, wishing that by some
miracle he could stay here in the mortal world with her, that he
could court her once more with no hidden agenda. But she
offered him the chance to spend time in her company, and she
offered him the chance to delay the inevitable, and that was far
more than he deserved from her. He would be content with
what he had, no matter how much he longed for more.
Kiera made herself a pot of coffee, then sat on her living
room sofa cupping a mug between her hands as she chewed on
her lip. Not so long ago, her life had been simple. Perhaps not
as satisfying as she would have liked, but she’d thought she
had a firm grip on reality and a clear vision of where she was
heading. Hunter had tipped her life over on its side, and she no
longer felt certain she knew up from down.
Faerie was a real place.
Her father really was the King of the Seelie Court.
Her mother’s dog was really a phooka.
And she was at least halfway in love with an immortal
man who just happened to be the son of evil personified.
Now how stupid was that? The man had lied to her,
repeatedly. He’d tried to seduce her, and he’d meant to get her
pregnant. By all rights, she should hate his guts, should be
doing a little dance of celebration at the thought that he would
be punished so thoroughly. But of course, that did not describe
her feelings at all. If she’d hated him as she should have, she
never would have gone down to his apartment this morning,
and whatever resentments she’d had left had died when she’d
seen him.
Was he lying to her again? Was it all just an act to try to
salvage what he could from this adventure, maybe get her into
bed after all? Perhaps a wise woman would assume so and stay
well away, protect her heart and her body from unspeakable
danger. But Kiera didn’t think he was lying, not this time.
She’d seen things in his eyes, things she flat out didn’t believe
he could fake.
Which left her with a dilemma the likes of which she’d
never faced before: Hunter was going to die, and if even half
of what she knew of the Unseelie Court was true, it would not
be an easy death. Something constricted painfully in her chest
and she struggled for breath as tears stung her eyes. Damn, she
had it bad! There had to be some way to save him from his
fate, some way to hide him or protect him.
She let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding.
One thing of which she was certain: this was not something she
could handle on her own. She’d spent too much energy
ignoring her mother’s supposed nuttiness to have any clue how
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to help Hunter, if it was even possible.
Kiera reached for the phone. Calling in her mother and
Seamus was a calculated risk. Her mother might not be as
forgiving as Kiera, and Seamus was already actively hostile.
But it was her only hope.
Her mom answered the phone on the third ring. Seamus
had just returned from Faerie, and the two of them had been
halfway out the door, heading for Kiera’s apartment. Without
further explanation, Kiera said it was a happy coincidence.
She seriously considered leaving the horseshoe affixed to
the door, for fear that with Seamus at her side, her mother
might try to force Kiera to leave the apartment. Not so long
ago, she would never have suspected her mother of such
decisive action, but she had to admit that she didn’t know her
mother as well as she’d once thought she did. But it was a risk
she would have to take, she decided, and so she pried out the
mangled nails and tossed the horseshoe back into her cramped
study.
Seamus had dispensed with the wolfhound disguise,
although as she invited him in Kiera thought she recognized
the inscrutable expression in his eyes that she had always hated
on Phantom.
“You should remain in the safety of your mother’s house
until the danger has passed,” he said without greeting.
Kiera blinked and shared a look with her mother. “Hello to
you too,” she said. “Mom and I already had this conversation.”
“Hmm, so she told me.” He was only an inch or so taller
than Kiera, but the aura of aristocratic dignity he bore gave
him an imposing presence. “I don’t believe you understand just
what is at stake.”
“Look, my position on this is non-negotiable, so unless
you’re going to drag me out of here by physical force and lock
me in my mother’s house, let’s just skip it.”
His eyes narrowed, but her mother interrupted before he
mustered a response.
“Give it up, Seamus. My daughter is one of the most
stubborn creatures on the planet.”
Seamus shook his head, his mouth pinched in disapproval,
but he declined to argue any further. Kiera directed them into
the living room and offered coffee, the gracious hostess with
her perfectly ordinary guests. A laugh almost escaped her at
the absurdity of it all. Her guests declined the offer, which was
just as well, as the coffee had to be nasty and stale by now.
“So, what’s on your mind?” her mother asked.
Kiera laughed briefly. “God, what a question.” She huffed
out a deep breath. The beginning of this little interview was
bound to go badly, but she was just going to have to bull her
way through it. She raised her chin and hoped her voice
conveyed the proper combination of confidence and
competence. “As you predicted, Hunter’s still here,” she said,
directing her words at her mother while keeping a wary eye on
Seamus.
The color leeched out of her mother’s cheeks, though her
voice remained relatively calm. “You’ve seen him?”
“You sought him out!” Seamus said, and it was an
accusation.
Her mother’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh no, say you
didn’t!”
A light sweat betrayed her nerves, but she held her
mother’s gaze steadily. “Yes, I did. He owed me an
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explanation.”
A stream of angry-sounding nonsense burst from
Seamus’s lips and he sprang to his feet.
“Oh Seamus, do sit down and shut up!” her mother
snapped, and Seamus gave her a dog-like snarl.
“Your child delivered herself into the hands of the
enemy!” Seamus growled, jabbing a finger in Kiera’s direction
and ignoring the command to sit down. “You should be cursing
and gnashing your teeth right along with me, Cathy.”
“If cursing and gnashing my teeth were likely to be
effective, I would do it. But as it will only get Kiera’s back up,
I’ll take the high road and stay calm.”
Kiera watched as the two of them engaged in a silent
staring match. She could almost hear the crackle of flames
from the heat of their gazes. For a fey man who was supposed
to be cool and distant, Seamus seemed to be awfully emotional
about this. Kiera wondered if that was the effect of living in
the mortal world for twelve years, or if the fey weren’t really
as foreign as her mother thought.
Eventually, Seamus backed down and returned to his seat,
but his body still radiated tension. He began bouncing his knee,
hard and fast. Kiera felt the faint reverberations of his
movements through the soles of her feet.
“So,” her mother said, “you visited with Hunter when you
got home. Tell us what happened.”
“He was a wreck. And no, he didn’t attack me or try to
seduce me or anything. We just talked. He promised me to tell
me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
Seamus snorted loudly, but she ignored him. “He says his
mother’s going to kill him for failing.”
“And you believe him?” Seamus asked, his knee bouncing
ever more frantically. “May I remind you how many lies he’s
already told you? You must be the most gullible mortal I’ve
ever met.”
Her mother punched Seamus in the arm, and it didn’t look
like a light little love tap either.
“Don’t insult my daughter!” Kiera’s mother said. “And I
will not be a party to any lies.”
“Cathy . . .” he said, a warning in his voice, but it was too
late, for Kiera understood the nuances of her earlier discussion
with her mother.
“That’s why you were so sure he would hang around,”
Kiera said. “You knew that he would die when he returned
home. And you didn’t tell me.”
Her mother shrugged. “If I could have kept it from you, I
would have. I know you too well, honey. No matter how awful
he’s been to you, it’s got to hurt to know that he’s going to
die.”
“I don’t believe this,” Seamus said. “If you know it’s
going to hurt her, then why are you telling her?” He shook his
head in evident exasperation. “I don’t know whether it’s mortal
logic or just female logic I don’t understand.”
“Hunter already told her, remember? And she obviously
believes him. I’m not going to make things worse by lying to
her about it. We’re only going to be able to help her if she
trusts us, and lying to her will make her not trust us. There,
does that logic meet with your high standards?”
“There you go again, talking about me in third person. It’s
really getting on my nerves, Mother.”
“Deal with it. I have to explain these things to Seamus
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because the fey don’t understand why us mere mortals put so
much value in trust and react so poorly to betrayal.”
Seamus rolled his eyes dramatically, and Kiera suspected
they’d had this discussion before. Many times. That thought
led Kiera to speculate about just what might have happened
between her mother and the phooka during the twelve years
they’d been living together. How much of that time had he
spent as a dog? From the sparks that flew between them, she
suspected the answer was, very little. She quickly closed her
mind off from that avenue. There were some things she just
didn’t want to know!
“Okay,” she said, interrupting the little battle between her
mother and the phooka, “so I know that Hunter’s supposed to
die because he failed. The question then becomes is there any
way we can save him?”
“No!” Seamus barked.
Her mother’s answer was less abrupt, but no less
discouraging. “I’m afraid that’s a pretty tall order, sweetheart.
It’s not like his mother is one to forgive and forget, and she has
some pretty terrifying henchmen.”
“Can’t we . . . I don’t know, hide him somewhere?”
This time it was Seamus who answered, and his voice had
turned surprisingly gentle. “Hunter and his mother are both
immortal beings, Kiera. Even if he could find a good hiding
place—which would be highly difficult, given her
resources—she would find him eventually, and his suffering
would be that much the worse.” He rubbed his hands together
and his knee stopped bouncing. Kiera could see he was
considering his words carefully before he spoke. “The kindest
thing we could do for him would be to give him the quick
death his mother will deny him.”
“No!” Kiera cried, shooting to her feet, her heart in her
throat.
Seamus rose more slowly. “Personally, I’d just as soon let
him suffer. I think his remorse is no more than skin deep. He is
Unseelie, and the Unseelie delight in all things wicked.
However—”
Rage at his callous words coursed through Kiera’s body
and ignited her nerves. That rage demanded release, and before
she had an inkling of what she meant to do, she had slapped
Seamus hard across the face. “How dare you!” Her voice
hitched on a sob. “I want you out of my apartment. Now!”
Seamus hadn’t moved a muscle, just stood there with his
head cocked, blinking at her as his cheek reddened. Her mother
put a hand on his shoulder and nudged him back into the chair,
parking herself between them. Kiera realized that tears were
coursing down her cheeks and she swiped at them angrily with
her sleeves.
“I know that was hard to hear, sweetheart,” her mother
said. “And I know Seamus could have said it in a more tactful
manner. But you shouldn’t dismiss it quite so forcefully. The
chances of succeeding in a fight against the Unseelie Court are
very slim.”
Kiera shook her head. “Slim chances are better than no
chances.”
“But if you try to save Hunter from his fate, you are also
putting yourself into great danger.”
The tears calmed as resolve crystallized in Kiera’s heart.
“He could have had me last night, and he let me go. He put
himself in the worst kind of danger for me.”
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Seamus made an ugly choking sound, and her mother
snapped at him immediately. “Seamus, keep your mouth shut
unless you want to be the victim of violence!”
“I would be happy to be the victim of violence if it would
get me out of hearing the rest of this—”
”Seamus!” Kiera and her mother yelled simultaneously.
He subsided, but his face looked distinctly sulky.
“I thought he was bad when he was a dog,” Kiera
mumbled under her breath, winning a hint of a smile from her
mother.
The smile quickly faded. “You understand that as your
mother, it’s almost unbearable to hear you say you would risk
your own life to help a man who did such a terrible thing.”
Kiera tried to put herself in her mother’s shoes and
realized she was right. She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Mom.
But how can I just let them kill him without even trying to
help? He has some pretty damn good qualities under that rough
exterior of his.”
“If you absolutely refuse to be sensible,” Seamus said,
“then I suppose I can make some inquiries in Faerie. I’m not at
all sure it’s possible to save him, but if there is a chance, I’ll
sniff it out.”
Kiera fixed him with a hard, cold look. “Give me one
good reason why I should believe you’d do any such thing!”
He rose to meet her challenging stare. “Because your
mother does.”
Kiera looked quickly to her mother, who nodded. “If
Seamus says he’ll do it, then he’ll do it.” She flashed him what
Kiera would have described as a fond smile. “This would not
be the first time he’d done something he did not
wholeheartedly approve of.” They looked at each other as
though they shared a secret memory.
Kiera decided she would do the one thing she had so often
in her life refused to do: she would trust her mother.

Chapter 12
Cathy stopped the elevator on the ninth floor, and Seamus
gave her a killing look. He reached for the Close Door button,
but she stepped in front of the door.
“Go on, Seamus,” she said. “You need to gather your
information as soon as possible.”
He shook his head. “You are not going to his apartment
without me.”
Giving him her most condescending smile, she reached out
and patted him on the top of the head. “You’re a wonderful
watchdog. But I have a few words I need to impart on Mr.
Teague, and you have work to do.”
He batted her hand away and scowled. The elevator
dinged in protest at her holding the door open so long. “Kiera
may think this Teague is repentant, but I don’t trust him for a
moment. He’s Unseelie and no pretty words are going to
change that. I’m not letting you talk to him alone.”
It wasn’t as though Cathy trusted Hunter, either. However,
he didn’t strike her as being stupid, and if he still had plans for
Kiera, it would be incredibly stupid for him to harm Cathy
right now. “How about trusting me, then? I’m confident I
won’t be in any danger.” She grinned, unable to resist jerking
his chain. “Besides, his temper seems less volatile than yours.”
Seamus lifted his eyes heavenward in entreaty. “What did
I do to deserve this?”
Cathy took a step into the hall and the elevator door
started to close with what she would have sworn was a sigh of
relief. Seamus stared at her with worry in his eyes until the
doors cut off his view. She licked her lips, watching the
elevator even after the doors had closed. It was hard to deny
that Seamus had looked worried. But the fey didn’t
worry—you had to care to worry, and she’d never known any
of the fey to have a genuine care for anyone but themselves.
No, if Seamus was worried at all, he was worried he might
fail in his duties to his king.
That cleared up, she strode to Hunter’s door and knocked.
He answered promptly, opening the door and leaning against
the doorframe, giving her an inscrutable look.
“I’ve had more visitors in the last twenty-four hours than
I’d had in the last two weeks,” he said, his voice betraying an
edge that didn’t show in his expression. “To what do I owe the
pleasure?”
“May I come in?”
Hunter leaned forward slightly, looking up and down the
hall. “Where’s your dog?”
“The phooka has other things to do. Now are you going to
let me in or not?”
He shrugged and opened the door wider. “Please, come
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in.”
She accepted the grudging invitation and stepped inside.
She suffered a momentary fear that she was making a mistake,
for there was a certain air of menace about Hunter, but it was
too late for second thoughts.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked.
“No, thank you.”
“Do I need one?”
His lips were twisted into a wry smile, though his eyes
looked wary. Cathy looked him up and down, seeing him as a
man for the first time, rather than merely a threat to her
daughter. Certainly nice to look at, she had to admit. Unusually
rugged-looking for the fey, who tended toward delicate
features and thin frames. He wasn’t particularly stout, but still
his shoulders and chest were broader than the average fey, and
he had none of that deceptively fragile look about him. Cathy
ignored his question and asked one of her own.
“Is that glamour,” she asked, waving her hand to indicate
his appearance, “or is this what you really look like?”
“What you see is what you get. Remember, my father was
a mortal man.”
Cathy nodded, having forgotten that interesting fact. “I
take it he is no longer living?”
Hunter’s expression didn’t ostensibly change, but she
thought she saw a shadow pass over him nonetheless. “The
Queen had him executed when I was seven. I was forced to
watch.”
She shivered, and some of her hostility faded. What a
terrible thing for a child to witness! What would it do to that
child’s psyche? Surely that the child would be irreparably
damaged.
“Why are you here?” Hunter asked, his voice now sharp
with pain.
“My daughter visited with you earlier today.”
His back stiffened. “That was her own choice. And no, I
didn’t harm her in any way.”
Cathy shook her head. “I didn’t say you did. No need to be
so defensive.”
Hunter turned away from her and limped over to a chair,
sitting down heavily. “No? I would think after last night’s little
scene I have every reason in the world to be defensive. You
consider me the enemy.” He sighed. “Not that I blame you. I
presume you are here to forbid me to see your daughter on pain
of further dog bites.”
She didn’t answer immediately, instead studying his face
and his posture. That he was trying to mask his emotions was
clear; however, his eyes were far too expressive. He seemed
strangely young and vulnerable, and Cathy once again felt that
annoying twinge of sympathy. She reminded herself that he
could be a hundred years old for all she knew. After all, the fey
didn’t age. “How old are you?” she blurted.
Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “What does my age have to do
with anything? Or is that your way of finding yet another
objection to my existence?”
“You should consider hearing me out before becoming so
hostile,” she said, and was surprised by the way his shoulders
slumped at her words.
“I wasn’t being hostile. I was being defensive.”
She smiled despite herself. Then she focused on why she
was here, and the smile disappeared. She moved over to sit on
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the arm of the sofa, facing him. “You told my daughter that
you will be killed for failing your mission.”
He winced and looked away. “I wouldn’t have told her
that, except I’d promised to tell the truth, and she kept
pressing.” He raised his eyes once more. “Look, I don’t know
what you want of me, but I can tell you right now if it involves
lying to Kiera, I won’t do it. I’m not proud of having lied to
her before, and now that the axe has fallen I have no intention
of repeating my mistakes.”
“All very noble,” she said, with only a hint of acid in her
voice. “However, now that you’ve told her you’re going to die,
she’s decided to go on a crusade to save you.”
Hunter’s face went from pale to bloodless. He looked at
her with wide, horrified eyes. “No!” He sprang to his feet,
raking a hand through his hair. “One of my mother’s cohorts
dropped by while Kiera was here, and she helped me keep up
the illusion. I never thought . . .”
“The reason Seamus isn’t with me is that he’s gone to
Faerie in search of a solution. At my daughter’s insistence,
naturally.”
Hunter shook his head. “Don’t let her get involved!” He
looked at her imploringly. “This is hard enough already
without her risking her life on a fool’s errand. There’s nothing
she can do for me. Tell her that!”
Cathy was liking him better and better. She managed an
ironic smile. “You may have noticed that my daughter is rather
willful.”
“Lock her in her room, then! She can’t possibly know
what she’s up against.”
Cathy was quiet a long time. This was precisely why she’d
come to Hunter’s apartment. If he’d embraced Kiera’s attempt
to save him despite the danger she’d put herself in by trying,
then Cathy could have washed her hands of him with little
remorse. Oh, she would still feel sorry for him, would still hate
to think of him suffering the way that he was sure to suffer.
But he would have proved himself a typical, selfish, unfeeling
fey, and she would have felt justified doing whatever was
necessary to protect her daughter. Even locking her up in her
room, if that’s what it took.
Hunter’s concern for Kiera’s well-being made things more
complicated.
Cathy smiled at him faintly. “I might just do that, in the
end. But first I’ll wait and hear what Seamus finds out.”
Hunter stared up at the ceiling, where Kiera’s footsteps
made the floorboards creak. “I refuse to let her get hurt
because of me. I’ve done her enough harm already.”
“We’re united in a common cause, then,” Cathy said.
“Unless Seamus comes back from Faerie with a nearly riskfree
way to save you, we’ll do whatever it takes to keep Kiera
from doing anything rash. Right?”
He nodded briskly. “Right.” He rose and limped over to
her, his face looking grave and noble. “I know after what I’ve
done it’s probably hard to believe it, but I . . . care about her. A
lot. Before this damned mess, I didn’t think it was possible for
me to feel that way about anyone. I’m almost glad to have
learned I was wrong.”
Cathy’s heart went out to him, and she hoped that against
all odds, Seamus would return from Faerie with a miracle.
Kiera should have known Jackson would stop by to ask
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how the date had gone, but she’d had rather a lot on her mind.
When she let him in and saw his Cheshire cat grin, she wished
she’d put some time into making up a story. She’d never been
much good at lying, especially this ad-lib stuff, but she wasn’t
sure even Jackson’s open mind could handle the truth.
He glided into her apartment, eyes gleaming with
mischief. “Tell me everything!” he demanded. “Every juicy
detail. And what’s with the horseshoe on the door?”
Kiera almost groaned. She was too tired and too
overwhelmed to handle this! She should have just played not
home. Why hadn’t she thought of that before she’d answered
the door?
Jackson’s mischievous grin turned into a frown. “What’s
the matter? You’ve got dark circles under your eyes. If you
were sleep-deprived because you spent the whole night having
wild passionate sex, you’d probably look a lot happier.”
She rubbed at her face. “You’re too perceptive for my own
good,” she grumbled.
He laughed. “You know I still expect you to tell me
everything. But maybe if it didn’t go so well, we should do it
over a drink. You do have some alcohol around here, don’t
you?”
She leaned wearily against a wall. “Any chance we can
have this conversation some other time?”
He looked shocked. “Heavens no! You know me better
than that.” He put his hand on her shoulder blade and firmly
guided her into the living room. He pointed at the couch. “Sit.”
Too tired to argue, she dropped into the couch and tucked
her feet underneath herself while Jackson disappeared into her
kitchen to help himself to her liquor stash. He returned quickly
with two glasses. Kiera sniffed her glass and determined it was
a rum and Coke. A strong one. She took a polite sip, though
she wasn’t much in the mood for alcohol.
“Okay, spill it,” Jackson said.
She raised an eyebrow. “Why would you want me to spill
it?” She held up the glass and tried a feeble laugh. But dumb
jokes weren’t going to put Jackson off. She sighed. “You’re
going to think I’ve gone insane if I tell you everything that
happened.”
He cocked his head. “Oh? Now you’ve really piqued my
curiosity.”
Kiera put her drink aside and leaned back into the
cushions of the couch. She didn’t much want to share the
lunacy with Jackson, but he would badger her until she told
him the truth and she couldn’t even begin to think of a clever
lie. In nervous fits and starts, she spilled the story, from
Hunter’s refusal to have sex with her, to the strange and
terrible revelations, to her recent decision to try to save
Hunter’s life.
When she finished her recitation, she didn’t lift her head
from the sofa cushions, not wanting to see the look on
Jackson’s face. He didn’t say anything for a long time, and she
feared that silence portended condemnation.
“Well,” he finally said, “that was a little stranger than I
was expecting.”
She lifted her head and looked at him. His features were a
little pinched, his eyes worried-looking, but he wasn’t looking
at her as though she’d grown a third arm or anything. She tried
a smile. “No kidding? It was a little stranger than I’d been
expecting too.”
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He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort.
“I’ll bet.”
“So, how nuts do you think I am?”
He shrugged. “I have to admit this is a little much to
swallow. I could dismiss most of it as other people lying to
you, but the bit about your mom’s dog turning into a man is a
kind of hard to explain away. Unless you’d been drinking
heavily when you saw it?” He gave her a hopeful look.
“Sorry, but no. Jackson, I saw it with my own eyes, with a
relatively clear head. If you can come up with some logical
explanation to make it all go away, I’d really appreciate it. I
don’t particularly like thinking that Hunter might die, and I
don’t like thinking that I’m going to get attacked by goblins or
something if I try to help him.”
“No, I don’t imagine that’s a particularly fun prospect.”
She groaned loudly. “God, this is such a mess! What
happened to the nice, normal, sane life I used to have?”
He wrinkled his nose. “The nice, normal, dull, lonely,
unhappy life you mean?”
She glared at him. “I was not lonely, and I was not
unhappy! Geez, you and my mom are a matched set.”
He grinned. “‘Fraid not—she’s not my type, you know.”
“Ha ha, I’m laughing so hard I can barely contain myself.”
“I can see that. Deny it all you want, but you’ve been the
next best thing to a hermit ever since Jon dumped you, and I
don’t care what you say, that is not a happy way to live.”
She swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat. Jon had
dumped her almost two years ago. Of all the losers she’d dated,
he was the king, and she’d repeatedly chanted the mantra “I’m
better off without him.” But she supposed it was rather sorry
that she hadn’t dated anyone since. And she had started her
own business working from home less than three months after
they’d broken up. So, maybe what Jackson was saying wasn’t
so far off the mark after all, though she wasn’t about to admit
it.
“I was overjoyed to see you taking interest in a man
again,” Jackson continued. “Of course, I’d like to kick his ass
for hurting you.”
She smiled at the image that came to mind. Jackson
attacking Hunter would be kind of like a chihuahua attacking a
rottweiler. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s really not
necessary. I’m convinced his own conscience is giving him
punishment enough.” Not to mention the ultimate punishment
he would receive for failing. Her smile faded. “I think he’s
actually a pretty decent human being under it all.”
Jackson raised an elegant eyebrow. “I thought he wasn’t a
human being of any kind, decent or otherwise.”
“You know what I mean.”
He slapped his forehead loudly. “Shit!”
Kiera stared at him. “What?”
He leaned forward and poked a finger at her. “You’ve still
got it for him.”
She drew back. “I do not!” she cried, feeling her face turn
red. “How stupid do you think I am? He might be a decent
guy, but all the charm and seduction crap was just an act,
remember? I always knew deep down inside that a man like
him wouldn’t be interested in someone like me, and I was
right. Now that the clouds are out of my eyes, I can accept that
and move on.”
Jackson actually laughed at her. “Oh, you’ve got it all
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right, babe. You should see the way your eyes are flashing.”
She was trying to decide which pithy comment would
most thoroughly put Jackson in his place when the doorbell
rang and disrupted her thoughts. She sighed dramatically. “It’s
like Grand Central Station in here today,” she complained,
standing up.
Jackson stood also and put a hand on her arm, stopping her
from going to the door. His brows were drawn together in
concern. “Let me answer the door.”
She blinked in surprise. “I’m sure it’s just my mother,
coming back to try to talk sense into me again.”
“Maybe so, but it can’t hurt to let me check it for you.
Wait here.”
He started toward the door, but she took a step right with
him until he grabbed her arm again. “I said wait here!”
“What’s with the macho he-man crap?”
He planted his fists on his hips as the doorbell rang a
second time. “My sexual preferences don’t stop me from
having protective instincts, you know. I’m no bruiser, but I’m
still bigger and stronger than you are. So stay here, and when I
let your mother in you can laugh at me.”
She forced herself not to argue, hanging back as Jackson
stepped up to the door and looked into the peephole. He
frowned, then turned to her with a speculative look that told
her it was definitely not her mother. Before she could ask a
question, Jackson opened the door, a big, cheesy smile on his
face.
“You must be Hunter,” Jackson said, sticking out his hand.
Kiera groaned and hurried to his side in time to see Hunter
looking at him with an expression that she could have sworn
betrayed rampant jealousy. Only Hunter couldn’t be jealous, of
course, because you had to actually care about someone to be
jealous.
Hunter declined to shake the offered hand—surprise,
surprise—and stood stiffly in the doorway. “Forgive me,” he
said, ignoring Jackson and directing his words to Kiera. “I
didn’t mean to interrupt.”
He took a step back from the doorway, but Jackson
laughed and grabbed his arm. The narrow-eyed stare Hunter
gave him chilled Kiera’s marrow.
“It’s not what you think,” Jackson said, oblivious to the
threat in the other man’s eyes. “I’m just a friend. Now come in
and stop scowling.”
The scowl deepened, but Hunter stepped into the
apartment nevertheless. Kiera forced a bright smile. “Hunter,
this is my friend Jackson. Jackson, Hunter.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Jackson said, looking disgustingly
cheerful, and not a little smug.
Hunter did not look similarly pleased as he raked Jackson
with a hostile glance. Then, something changed in his
expression. “How’s your back?” he asked, and Kiera realized
the change had come because he’d recognized Jackson’s name.
Jackson grinned. “Never better.”
Hunter nodded, lips pressed firmly together. “It was a
setup.”
“Yup,” Jackson agreed, still cheerful. “Our mutual friend
has pretty canny instincts. She didn’t believe the massage
therapist act for a moment.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow at Kiera and she grinned
sheepishly.
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“Well, I guess I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Jackson
said, breaking the tension.
“You might say that,” Kiera muttered.
Jackson reached into his back pocket and pulled out his
wallet. Kiera frowned, wondering what on earth he was up to.
He reached into the wallet and gave her a positively evil grin.
“Just in case,” he said, whipping something out of the
wallet and throwing it to her.
Instinctively, she caught it. Jackson slipped out the door.
Kiera’s cheeks flamed as she opened her hand and saw the foilwrapped
package that lay in her palm. She quickly closed her
hand again. Outside, she heard Jackson laughing at his little
jest. She wished the floor would open up and swallow her. She
didn’t dare look at Hunter.
She heard his footsteps approaching but kept her gaze
locked on the floor, heat radiating from her cheeks. Hunter
took her clenched fist in his hand and gently pried her fingers
open, taking the condom and slipping it into his pants pocket.
“How much does he know?” Hunter asked.
“Pretty much everything,” Kiera mumbled. She couldn’t
read anything from his voice and she was still too embarrassed
to risk looking at his face. Unfortunately, looking down as she
was, she couldn’t help noticing the bulge that adorned the front
of Hunter’s pants. Her cheeks flamed even hotter. He cupped
her face in both hands and raised her head until their eyes met.
Her heart fluttered when she saw the hungry look in his
eyes. But he couldn’t be looking at her like that, not now, not
when his mission had already failed. He started to bend down,
his lips parting for a kiss. Despite everything, she yearned for
the feel of his lips on hers, and she tilted her head backward to
give him better access.
Hunter jerked to a stop before he’d closed even half the
distance between them. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky
breath.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “It’s just damned hard to control
myself with you around.” His hands slipped away from her
face and he took a step backward.
She shook her head. “You can’t mean that.”
He frowned at her. “Of course I can. I promised to tell you
the truth, remember?” He glanced down at the still-prominent
bulge in his pants. “Do you think I’m faking this?”
The words sent a tremor of desire through her, and her
common sense decided to go on another vacation. As though
drawn there magnetically, her hand reached out to stroke the
length of his erection. He let out a breathy groan, growing even
harder at her touch.
It had been so long since she’d had a man inside her. Two
years. And Jon had been a lousy lover, much too interested in
his own pleasure to bother much about hers. She already knew
Hunter wasn’t like that, for he’d sent her to the stars last night
while remaining firmly on earth himself. He moved closer to
her, his breath coming in audible gasps.
“I know after everything that’s happened you have no
reason to trust me,” he said, reaching into his pocket and
pulling out the condom again. “But you can be sure I haven’t
tampered with this. And I would dearly love to finish what we
started last night, if you’re willing.”
Willing? Her whole body felt near to bursting into flames
with the heat of her desire. There would still be a risk, of
course. Condoms had been known to break, and if Hunter was
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still determined to carry out his mission, then he could
probably manage to break it on purpose. But she was in a
relatively safe part of her cycle. And surely he wouldn’t
depend on making her pregnant in one try, so even if he was
still plotting against her, he would have to play it safe this
time.
The overwhelming desire overrode any lingering doubts,
and she smiled up at him as she took his hand. “My bedroom’s
this way,” she said, tugging him along after her.
Before she’d taken two steps, he’d swept her up into his
arms. “I know where it is,” he said, then sealed her mouth off
with a kiss.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/89
Chapter 13
Kiera had never had a man carry her to bed before last
night, but that seemed to be Hunter’s strategy of choice. It felt
rather nice, she decided as she clung to his neck and felt her
heartbeat speed to match his. He moved swiftly, pushing her
bedroom door shut with his foot and laying her down on her
bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, his mouth was upon
her, giving hungry, ardent kisses that made her head spin. She
wanted to savor the taste of his tongue, but his kisses soon
moved downward as his fingers deftly unbuttoned her blouse.
She buried her hands in his hair, amazed by the amount of heat
he generated in her.
Hunter bared her breasts in record time, his hands eagerly
caressing her as she pressed herself against him. When he took
one taut peak into his mouth, she moaned loudly, digging her
hands into his scalp.
His mouth was relentless, licking and suckling until she
thought she’d go mad with it. She writhed beneath him,
wanting more even as she moaned in pleasure. As if sensing
her need, he suddenly released her nipple and moved back up
to capture her mouth with a kiss while one skillful, wicked
hand worked her jeans open. She tilted her hips upward, and he
impatiently swept both jeans and panties out of the way. The
stroke of his fingers through her curls almost sent her over the
edge.
Hunter deepened his kiss, his tongue sliding slowly in and
out of her mouth in an unmistakable rhythm. Blood pounded in
her ears, and the anticipation became almost unbearable. His
fingers began moving in time to his tongue, stroking the
sensitive bud that ached for them. The unbearable anticipation
felt so good Kiera almost hated to let it end, but the insistent
strokes of his fingers and his tongue brought her steadily closer
to the edge until she finally teetered over. She arched into him,
crying out as best she could with his tongue in her mouth, her
hands gripping him with desperate strength. The pleasure came
in waves of heat, which the stroke of his fingers nursed for
every drop of delight.
When the spasms finally stopped, Kiera shuddered and
went limp. Hunter broke the kiss and let her take greedy gasps
of air. A velvet laugh escaped his lips, and his eyes glowed as
he watched her, drinking in her pleasure.
“I take it that was adequate?” he asked, his lips curled into
a smug smile.
Kiera put a hand to her chest, feeling the insistent
pounding of her over-excited heart. “It was all right,” she said
grudgingly as she grinned up at him.
He sat up and loomed over her as he unbuttoned his shirt.
“Well, I’ll have to find a way to elicit a more enthusiastic
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/90
response,” he said as he shrugged his shoulders out of his shirt
and unbuttoned his fly.
“Any more enthusiasm might kill me,” she protested, lying
limply on the bed as anticipation mounted once more. Then
Hunter slid his pants off, and all thoughts of teasing and quips
fled her mind.
She had never in the past been much impressed with male
nudity. She enjoyed a well-toned body as much as the next
girl, but it seemed to her that the male sexual equipment was
rather utilitarian in form and was generally best kept out of
sight until needed.
All it took to change her mind was Hunter.
Instead of trying to avoid looking at it—which was what
she’d always done in the past—Kiera found herself staring at
his erection. She reached out to stroke it, fingers sliding softly
from base to tip and back again as Hunter’s breath hissed in
and out. That smooth, silky texture was infinitely appealing,
and she kept stroking.
“If you don’t want to risk having me inside you,” he said
between gasping breaths, “just keep doing that and I’ll be quite
satisfied.”
She gave a cursory consideration to the idea, but shook it
off almost instantly. “I wouldn’t be,” she told him, then closed
her hand around him and gave a very gentle but insistent tug
toward her.
Hunter laughed tightly. “I do love a woman who knows
what she wants.” He reached for the condom and tore the
packet open. He fumbled a bit as he unrolled it, frowning in
concentration.
When he was properly armored, Hunter rolled over on top
of her, kissing her deeply as he parted her legs with his body.
She opened for him with no hesitation, amazed to discover that
she didn’t feel even slightly nervous or uncomfortable, as she
usually did when she slept with a man for the first time.
Hunter broke the kiss for a moment, keeping his lips only
millimeters from hers. “Are you sure?” he whispered.
Kiera raised her head and brushed her lips against his.
“Yes.”
As soon as the word left her mouth, he was inside her, and
she sucked in a startled breath because it felt so unbelievably
good. Hunter misinterpreted that gasp and lay perfectly still on
top of her, his eyes widening with dismay as he peered into her
face.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked, and Kiera had to fight a
laugh at the alarm in his voice.
“God, no!” she said, smiling up at him as she squeezed his
hips with her thighs. “You feel . . . incredible.”
Relief flooded his face, and he gave her a gentle, tender
kiss as he thrust into her in a maddeningly slow rhythm. She
wrapped her legs around him, wanting to savor each delicious
stroke, amazed at the pleasure and need he was able to induce
in her. He raised his head and looked into her eyes, seeming to
drink in her pleasure as his thrusts inevitably picked up speed.
Her back and neck arched, but she stubbornly kept her eyes
open, watching Hunter watching her, his obvious joy in
pleasuring her making the pleasure all the more powerful. She
ran her hands down his body until they were cupped around his
buttocks and she could feel the sleek muscles there bunching
and releasing.
Kiera was practically purring with pleasure, loving the feel
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/91
of him inside her, loving the way he filled her, most of all
loving the way he looked at her as he moved. His eyes spoke
quite clearly that he was making love to her, that she wasn’t
just a convenient receptacle for his need. Always in the
past—especially with Jon—she’d felt as if once the actual sex
began, the emotion ceased. But not this time.
“You’re amazing,” she whispered, and his eyes glowed
with pleasure.
“Not as amazing as you are,” he whispered back, a hint of
a grin on his lips. “I want to feel you come with me inside
you.”
The words triggered a moment of unease. As good as this
felt, she wasn’t heading for orgasm, and she wondered if she
should start working on a fake one. But she’d always been too
self-conscious to fake it very effectively, and she didn’t
particularly want that lie between them when they were being
so honest with one another.
“I’m not one of those lucky women who can have multiple
orgasms,” she confessed, internally bracing herself for a rebuff.
Hunter’s eyes darkened and his nostrils flared, and once
more she was reminded of a dangerous predator, though this
time the image didn’t scare her. His grin became fierce. “Lady,
you’re not leaving this bed until you come for me.”
He gave her no time to argue, clouding her thoughts once
more with a spectacular kiss. When he came up for air, she told
herself she was going to have to fake it after all, no matter how
uncomfortable it made her. Then, Hunter shifted position,
skillfully unwrapping her legs from his hips and turning her
over onto her side. He slid one arm under her neck and pulled
her up against him in a spoon position, still buried inside her.
“Let’s see if we can’t change your luck,” he whispered in
her ear as his other hand slid down her belly and between her
legs. His fingers searched her curls until they found the perfect
spot, and he began stroking her there in time to his thrusts.
The sensation was like nothing Kiera had ever known
before. She instantly forgot all thoughts of faking it as his
touch lit a fire in her center. She groaned and clutched a
pillow, wishing she could clutch Hunter instead. His lips
brushed the side of her neck and his thrusts picked up speed
once more. She released the pillow to brace herself against his
power, savoring every sensation as she spiraled ever closer to
release.
When that release came, the sound that emanated from her
throat was practically a wail. The power of it seized her like a
rag-doll, shaking her helplessly, and she could hardly breathe
through the pleasure. Hunter roared in fierce satisfaction, the
urgency of his thrusts almost sending her off the side of the
bed because she was too mindless in her own pleasure to brace
herself properly.
Her body bathed in sweat, her muscles quivering and
weak, Kiera lay on her side and gasped for breath as her heart
pounded. Hunter’s arms relaxed around her and she heard his
heavy breathing, felt the hurried drum-beats of his heart. He
rested only a few moments before he withdrew. Kiera
mustered enough energy to turn over and look at him, meaning
to protest his hasty withdrawal. Then she remembered all the
logical reasons why she shouldn’t be sleeping with him in the
first place and was grateful to see him taking the proper
precautions with the condom.
Kiera closed her eyes and rested her forearm across her
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/92
brow, trying to slow her breathing to a more healthy level
before she passed out. She felt Hunter stirring beside her, but
opening her eyes seemed to require too much effort.
“Was I too rough with you?” he asked softly.
She laughed. No way in hell he thought he’d been too
rough! He was fishing for compliments. He deserved them.
She finally found the energy to open her eyes and smile at
him. “You were fantastic,” she told him, reaching out to stroke
his cheek. “I’ve never had it so good.” She shivered with
remembered pleasure.
His eyes twinkled with mischief. “I bet you say that to all
the guys. You’re far too nice to risk bruising a man’s ego.”
Her smile faded some, for he’d hit uncomfortably close to
the mark.
“What did I say?” Hunter asked, looking alarmed.
She shook her head. “It wasn’t what you said. At least, not
really.” She pressed herself against him, wrapping an arm
around him and squeezing tightly. “I wasn’t kidding when I
said I’d never had it so good.” She slid her hand onto his chest,
stroking his sweat-dampened skin with her index finger. “It’s
true that I’ve told other men that it was good when it wasn’t
particularly. I just . . . I didn’t realize it could be better.”
He turned onto his side and gathered her into his arms.
“I’m so glad I managed to do something right,” he murmured.
Kiera snuggled deeper into his arms, savoring the feel of
his warmth against her. He’d done something right, all right.
And he’d done it so right she wondered if she’d ever be
satisfied with another man again. She suppressed a sigh. She
would have to be satisfied, somehow. Even if she and her
mother and Seamus managed to work a miracle and save
Hunter’s life, this relationship of theirs would be temporary.
Much as she’d enjoyed what they’d just done, she was keenly
aware that she didn’t fully trust Hunter. If she’d trusted him
fully, she wouldn’t have had that niggling worry that he might
purposely break the condom. And she wouldn’t feel that
disquieting feeling that she had just dodged a bullet.
“You’ve tensed up,” Hunter said, pushing her gently away
so he could look into her face.
She swallowed hard. “It’s been a confusing couple of
days. I’m a bit of a basket-case right now.”
“Hmm.” He reached out to stroke her cheek with the back
of his hand. “You won’t hurt my feelings if you admit you
don’t trust me,” he said, and she couldn’t help wincing to
realize how obvious she was. “If I were in your shoes, I
wouldn’t trust me either.” He raised her chin, urging her to
look into his eyes. “I promise you that I won’t let you come to
harm, by my hand or anyone else’s. But I don’t expect you to
trust me when I haven’t earned it, and I won’t act like a
wounded puppy if you take precautions to protect yourself.
Okay?”
She nodded, afraid she might start to cry if she spoke.
Hunter’s face turned grim. “Now, while you’re being so
agreeable, let’s talk about why I came up here. Believe it or
not, I had a purpose other than getting you into bed.”
She sighed, wishing she could have basked in the
afterglow just a little longer. “That doesn’t sound very
promising.”
“Your mother stopped by to see me.”
Kiera covered her face with her hands and groaned. “I’m
going to kill her.”
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/93
“She’s just looking out for you.” He sat up beside her and
pulled her hands away from her face. Sadness filled his eyes.
“You’re very lucky to have a mother who looks out for you.”
Thinking about what his mother was like made her feel
like a whiny brat for complaining about her own mother. “I
know I am,” she said. “But it isn’t all sweetness and light. I
love my mom dearly, but she’s a pain in the ass, especially
when she starts treating me like I’m twelve.” She shook her
head, trying to calm her temper, which seemed determined to
sweep her away despite her internal reprimands. “I don’t even
want to think about what she might have said to you!”
He snorted. “Of course you don’t! That’s because you
know I’m going to agree with her.” He took her hand and
squeezed tightly. “I can’t possibly put into words how much I
appreciate the thought, but Kiera don’t you dare stick your
neck out for me.”
She scowled at him. “If you think I’m just going to sit
back and do nothing while they kill you, then you don’t know
me at all.”
“And if you think I’m going to let you go to battle against
the Unseelie Court, then you don’t know me at all. It’s my
battle to fight.”
Kiera sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest because it
didn’t feel right to argue with him while he was staring at her
breasts. “You can’t take on the whole Court by yourself,
Hunter. You have to let me help.”
“But you can’t. Two people against the Unseelie Court is
no better than one. And don’t forget, I’m Unseelie myself.”
She frowned and looked at him more closely. “I thought
the Unseelie Court was just goblins and monsters. You’re not
either one. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I would swear
you’re just a regular human being.”
He shrugged. “I was sired by a human man and borne by a
humanoid woman, so you’re right, I don’t look like a member
of the Unseelie Court. But I’m Unseelie all the same.”
“But why?”
He blinked as though the question were unheard of.
“Because my mother is the Queen of Air and Darkness!”
“So? That’s your mother. What makes you Unseelie, when
you aren’t a member of any of the Unseelie races? Isn’t there
something inherent in being a goblin that makes them
Unseelie? Something that you don’t have?”
He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes looking troubled. “I’ve
spent all my life in the Unseelie Court, Kiera. It’s the only life
I know. Maybe it isn’t inherent in me, but I’ve been raised to
it.”
She shook her head, warming to the subject as pieces
began to fit together in her mind. “If you were a goblin—a true
Unseelie creature—would you have spared me?”
His jaws clamped stubbornly. “I’m not a goblin, so I
wouldn’t know.”
“Oh come on, Hunter. I may not have believed my
mother’s stories growing up, but I did listen to them. Goblins
and bogles and redcaps . . . they’re all evil creatures. All.
There’s no such thing as a goblin with a heart of gold. I don’t
think they’re capable of being good. That’s what makes them
Unseelie, Hunter, not the fact that they grew up in the Unseelie
Court. But you’re different.”
There was a strange expression on his face, one that
mingled hope and horror and doubt. “It doesn’t matter!” he
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declared, but Kiera suspected she had given him some food for
serious thought. “Whether I’m Unseelie or not, I’m still my
mother’s son, and she will still want to punish me for my
failure. If you get in the way, she could kill you too, and I
couldn’t bear that. Please, Kiera. Be safe.”
She had no choice but to back down, at least for the
moment. All his defenses were up, every protective instinct
urging him to fight her. And there was nothing she could do
for him right now anyway, not until Seamus returned from
Faerie. The best she could do was make sure none of his
cohorts found out his cover was blown. She supposed she’d
already gone a long way toward doing that.
She forced herself to relax and smile at him, despite her
fears for his safety. “All right, you win. For the moment, I
won’t do anything that might get me in trouble.” Except sleep
with you. “And if I have any creative or dangerous ideas, I’ll
run them by you before I try them. Okay?”
His expression as he examined her face was distinctly
suspicious. “I swear I should just gang up with your mother
and lock you in your bedroom until this is all over.”
“I’d find a way to escape. Now, enough of this
conversation.” She put a hand on his chest and pushed him
back down onto the bed. “I have other plans for you.”
Hunter gave her one of his lopsided grins. “Remember,
your friend only gave you one condom.”
She had indeed entirely forgotten that and she shook her
head at herself. “I’ll scold him for his lack of foresight later.”
She sighed dramatically. “I suppose that means an encore is
out of the question.”
“There’s a drug store right around the corner. I wouldn’t
want to leave you unsatisfied.”
“Unsatisfied is not the word I’d use to describe myself
right now.”
Hunter slipped out of the bed and began pulling on his
clothing. “How about ‘greedy?’ Is that a better word?”
Kiera grabbed a pillow and swatted his butt with it. He
howled in mock pain and clutched his luscious cheeks as
though mortally wounded. She laughed, amazed at the
emotional roller coaster she’d been riding over the past twentyfour
hours.
When Hunter pulled on his pants, she caught a glimpse of
the bandage on his leg and felt a twinge of guilt. “You should
stay here and let me go to the drugstore,” she said, starting to
get up.
He put her back in bed with a scolding look. “I can walk a
half a block without collapsing, thank you very much.
Especially when I know the reward that awaits me when I
return.” He finished buttoning his shirt and leaned over to kiss
her forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”
Kiera turned over on her side, watching Hunter’s back
until he disappeared from sight, her body already beginning to
react to the promise of his return.
Hunter’s thoughts rushed willy-nilly across his mind,
flitting from one impossible subject to another. He tried to
keep pushing his thoughts back to the incredible gift Kiera had
given him—and planned to give him again when he returned.
That he didn’t deserve it went without saying. But he wanted it
with such a deep-seated intensity that he couldn’t imagine
turning her down.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/95
Enticing as the thought of losing himself in her body was,
the glow of pleasant anticipation was interrupted frequently
with a single, innocent question that had rocked the very
foundation of his world. What makes you Unseelie? It was
something he had never thought to question before, something
that he had taken for a given. But, though he had balked at the
thought when Kiera mentioned it, he began to wonder if there
was any chance she was right.
He couldn’t deny that the full-blooded creatures of the
Unseelie Court were unfailingly evil. He’d never heard of one
that had a conscience of any sort. And hadn’t he always felt
that gap between himself and the rest of the Court, hadn’t he
always noted that he didn’t enjoy cruelty the way they did?
A spark of hope lit somewhere in his chest. The Unseelie
creatures were born evil, and he honestly believed they were
incapable of being otherwise. But he obviously was capable of
being a good man, even if he hadn’t always exercised that
option. Perhaps he was not as tainted as he’d thought.
His mind was so occupied by these thoughts that he
walked to the drugstore and bought the condoms in something
of a daze, hardly noticing his surroundings. His hopes of
redemption were tempered by the knowledge that whether he
was genuinely Unseelie or not mattered little to his ultimate
fate.
Still puzzling over the implications, Hunter walked back
toward the apartment with his head down and his shoulders
hunched against the persistent cold. He was distracted enough
that he didn’t immediately notice that someone had fallen into
step beside him. Then the familiar, dreaded odor reached his
nostrils and snapped him out of his reverie.
“Penny for your thoughts, Prince?” Bane said, throwing an
arm around his shoulders and neatly plucking the paper bag out
of his hands.
Hunter’s eyes watered from the miasma that rose from
Bane’s body and he shrugged the arm off violently. Bane
clearly enjoyed his revulsion. Hunter hoped the brief contact
hadn’t imbued his leather coat with the stench of goblin.
“Whatcha got in the bag?” Bane asked, not waiting for an
answer. “Oh-ho!” he crowed, pulling out the three boxes of
condoms. “Progress at last, I take it”
Several passers-by cast a curious glance in their direction.
Hunter tried to grab the condoms out of the goblin’s hand, but
he jerked them out of reach like a schoolyard bully.
“Will you stop making such a goddamned spectacle!”
Hunter growled.
Bane laughed, but put the condoms back in the bag. “Extra
large, eh? Mighty proud of yourself, aren’t you Boyo?”
“You know, she’s up there waiting for me and you’re
delaying my mission.”
Bane tucked the bag of condoms into a coat pocket. “You
don’t need these for your mission.”
Hunter pulled back the reins on his temper and was glad
he was able to do so with relative ease. “This is the twenty-first
century. She’s not going to let me bed her without protection.
I’ll poke some holes in them. There, are you satisfied?”
Hunter didn’t like the sly intelligence of Bane’s glance.
“There’s a slim chance she might notice the holes. It would be
more effective to spell them. I’m sure the Queen could manage
a very clever spell that would cause them to tear at a
convenient moment—like, for instance, when she’s fertile.”
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/96
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Hunter agreed, and he was
pretty sure he did a good job of keeping his revulsion out of his
face and voice. “But she’s in bed waiting for me right now, and
I need that bag. I’ll try my way for the moment, and you can
bring me some spelled ones later. Now hurry up and hand them
over. If you delay me any longer, I’m going to have a hard
time explaining why I’ve been gone so long, and we risk
making her suspicious.”
Bane shrugged and pulled the bag out of his pocket once
more. “All right, Boyo. Go do your worst. But don’t bother
poking holes. If she notices, you’ve blown it completely. I’ll
bring you some special ones tomorrow. Go ahead and f—”
Hunter’s hand darted out and seized the collar of Bane’s
coat, twisting the fabric there and choking off the words.
“Don’t say it,” he said calmly as he retrieved the bag of
condoms with his other hand.
The goblin’s eyes burned into his with chilling
malevolence. “You’re not starting to get sentimental about this,
are you Prince?”
Hunter quickly determined that lying was pointless, for
Bane had already made up his mind that it was so. “It doesn’t
matter if I am.” He let some of his anguish show. “I have no
choice in the matter, and I won’t let sentiment get in the way.”
Bane reached for the hand that clutched his collar, prying
at the fingers. Hunter realized he could end up with broken
fingers if he didn’t let go, so he released Bane and took a step
back.
“Are we through here,” he asked, “or are you going to
delay me even more?”
“We’re through once you tell me what happened to your
leg.”
Hunter turned his back and started hurrying toward the
apartment building. “Dog bit me,” he said over his shoulder,
and was mightily relieved when Bane didn’t call him back and
force him to explain in more detail.
Chapter 14
Cathy knew she was confusing the hell out of Alonso, but
she didn’t know what she could do about it. She watched from
her window as he walked down the street toward his own
house, the collar of his coat raised against the cold. She hadn’t
wanted to send him away tonight. The things that were
happening with Kiera were unsettling enough that she would
have appreciated the opportunity to snuggle into his arms. But
Alonso was a practical, no-nonsense kind of man who would
surely think she was insane if she started blathering about
goblins and evil queens. And she couldn’t imagine spending
the night with him and not talking about the issues that
weighed so heavily on her shoulders.
Seamus had been gone nearly a week already, and had sent
no word to Cathy about what he was learning. And it didn’t
take a worried mother to notice that Kiera was falling in love
with Hunter. They were spending a lot of time
together—supposedly to help keep up the illusion that Hunter
was seducing her, and thus keep the Unseelie Queen from
recalling him for punishment. Cathy thought the “illusion” was
rather too convincing. She’d asked her daughter point blank if
she was sleeping with Hunter. Kiera told her it was none of her
business, but the guilty flush that crept over her face revealed
all.
It was a terrible, helpless feeling to see Kiera risk so much
for a man who didn’t deserve it. Kiera was handing Hunter her
heart on a platter, and Cathy knew with an aching certainty that
it was going to end badly. How could it not, when Hunter
would either betray her, or die?
A knock on the door pulled Cathy out of the gloomy
thoughts. When she looked through the peephole and saw
Seamus, her heart lifted. She opened the door and had to fight
to keep from giving him a hug in greeting.
Damn, had she actually missed him?
“Well, come in,” she said as he hesitated on the doorway.
“You’re letting the cold air in.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you forgetting something?”
She frowned at him and shook her head. “Apparently.
What is it?”
He pointed at the doormat and she finally remembered the
iron knife she had concealed under it. She quickly bent and
removed the knife, and Seamus stepped inside.
“What took you so long?” she asked as she followed him
into the living room. She’d lit a fire in the fireplace to fight off
some of the chill that pervaded the drafty house, and Seamus
stood in front of it with his hands out, as if to warm them. It
was just an affectation, however, for the fey didn’t feel the
cold.
“When other sources of information failed to turn up any
promising leads, I asked for an audience with Finvarra. He
makes a point of being unapproachable, and he made me wait
four days before he would see me.”
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Cathy folded her arms and chewed her lower lip. She
couldn’t see Finvarra being in the least bit helpful, and if she
were wrong about that, Seamus probably wouldn’t be staring
so resolutely into the fire.
“He told me what we already knew: there’s nothing we
can do.”
“Kiera won’t accept that.”
Seamus finally turned to her, and she thought she saw
actual sadness in his eyes. “She won’t have any choice, Cathy.
Hunter is a subject of the Unseelie Court. Finvarra can’t
interfere.”
She snorted. “You mean Finvarra won’t interfere. If he
thought he had something to gain by doing so, he would.”
Seamus took her hands and squeezed. “‘Can’t’ and ‘won’t’
add up to the same thing in the end. If we want to save Hunter,
we’d have to bring him here. And keep him here. Do you
really think a life of imprisonment—an immortal life of
imprisonment, I might add—is better than a swift death?”
She tried to withdraw her hands, but he kept his hold, his
thumbs brushing over her knuckles in what she would almost
have termed a tender gesture.
“It is not a life I would choose, were I in his shoes,”
Seamus continued.
Cathy’s eyes stung with tears. Not for Hunter—although
she did feel sorry for him and didn’t really think he deserved to
die for his sins—but for Kiera, who’d suffered heartbreak after
heartbreak, and was now headed inexorably down the same
path.
Once more, Seamus shocked her, this time by pulling her
into his arms and holding her tightly. The sting in her eyes
turned into sobs. “My poor baby,” she cried into his shoulder.
He said nothing, just held her and stroked her back while the
tears ran their course.
When the sobs had slowed to sniffles, Seamus guided her
to the couch, sitting close beside her and keeping an arm
around her shoulders. She found herself leaning into him and
resting her head against his shoulder. If she weren’t so
distressed about her daughter’s plight, she might have put more
effort into unraveling the mystery of this sudden sense of
kinship.
“Do you agree with me that we should not allow the
Queen of Air and Darkness to get her hands on Hunter?” he
asked in a gentle voice.
She swallowed and nodded.
“I would take care of the actual killing, of course,”
Seamus said.
Cathy couldn’t help wincing. His arm tightened around
her shoulders. “Kiera would never forgive you,” she said.
“And she would never forgive me either.”
“Perhaps she would if Hunter showed his repentance to be
only skin deep.”
She pulled away from him, and this time he allowed her to
break his grip. His brown eyes held more warmth than she was
used to seeing there, more care than he had any right to show,
or even to feel. How long had this been going on? How long
had he been acting like a human being without her noticing?
“Tell me what you have in mind,” she said, not yet ready
to ask what the look in his eyes meant.
“If Hunter really cares about Kiera as he claims, then
perhaps he would agree to hurt her for her own good so that his
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death need not grieve her so badly.”
Cathy rubbed wearily at her eyes. That Seamus doubted
the idea that Hunter really cared was clear from his tone of
voice. She could only imagine what the phooka would think if
she revealed her suspicion that Kiera was sleeping with him.
She would have to walk a minefield to keep things from
getting any worse than they already were. “You obviously
don’t believe he really cares, so why bother with the charade?”
Seamus’s smile was surprisingly gentle. “Because his
death will grieve you less if you realize that he’s still lying. If
we approach him and suggest that he distance himself from
Kiera to save her grief, and he refuses to do it, that will tell you
where his true feelings lie.”
She sighed. She was being the worst kind of fool to think
Hunter cared in the first place. “You’re right, Seamus. I know
he can’t possibly care for her the way he seems to. There’s just
something about him . . . It’s easy to forget that he’s fey.”
Seamus’s lips pressed together in a line of annoyance.
“Enough fey-bashing,” he said, his voice sharp as knives. “We
are not incapable of caring. Finvarra is a selfish bastard, but he
is only one man and you should not condemn us all because of
him.”
“I’m not condemning you,” she protested. “It’s just the
way you are. I know you can’t help it.”
He bared his teeth as though he’d forgotten he wasn’t in
his dog form. “You impossible, foolish mortal!” His hands
clenched into fists in his lap, and if she didn’t know better she
would have sworn she saw hurt in his eyes. He sprang to his
feet and commenced pacing in front of the couch. If he’d been
a cartoon character there would have been smoke pouring from
his ears.
He halted abruptly and loomed over her. “Are you so daft
you can’t see what’s right before your eyes?” he cried, waving
his hands for emphasis.
Cathy stared up at him, her heart thundering as she fought
to keep his words from getting through to her. “I don’t know
what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice coming out
faint and feeble.
He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Give me strength!”
Acting as though it cost him great effort, he lowered his voice
and looked at her once more. “See if you can work this out,
Cathy: why have I so delighted in tormenting Alonso?” He said
the name with a curl of his lip.
She jutted her chin out. “You’re a phooka. That’s what
phookas do.”
“Try again,” he said with exaggerated patience. “Have I
shown myself to have the love of mischief that is usual to my
kind?”
“No,” she admitted reluctantly.
“All right. So, if I don’t have any particular love of
mischief, then why have I made a pest of myself when
Alonso’s been around? I know you can figure this out, Cathy,
even if you don’t like the answer.”
She shook her head, still fighting off the implications,
feeling something very akin to panic taking over her mind.
“Say it, Cathy!” he insisted, but she kept shaking her head.
She couldn’t even look at him anymore. “You’re fey!
How am I supposed to be able to understand your behavior?”
Her eyes fixed on the floor before her and she clasped her
hands until the knuckles turned white.
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Seamus knelt in front of her and covered her hands with
his. The gesture surprised her into looking at him, and once she
met his eyes she couldn’t look away.
The anger had faded from his expression, to be replaced
with . . . tenderness? “Why does it terrify you so?” he asked in
a voice soft as a caress.
She swallowed tears she refused to shed. “Do you have
any concept of what Finvarra did to my life? He wanted to get
laid, so he picked a mortal woman at random, with not the
slightest care as to what consequences she would have to face
because of it. He raped me and left me pregnant with a child
that my husband knew was not his, and he didn’t even care
enough to find out that he’d fathered that child. And when
years later I finally tracked him down, he still didn’t care,
except for her usefulness as a political pawn.” She bit her
tongue, for if she kept going the bitterness would escape in a
flood and drown her.
“I’m not Finvarra,” Seamus reminded her. “He’s the king,
Cathy. He’s everything fey to its greatest extreme—the most
beautiful, the most powerful, the most arrogant, and, yes, the
most selfish. Just because he’s all those things doesn’t mean
the rest of us are.”
Still she fought it. “You forget; I’ve been to Faerie, I’ve
seen more of the fey than just Finvarra.”
“Yes, you’ve seen the cream of the Seelie Court, who
emulate the king. That’s why they’re his favorite courtiers. But
there are also the simple people, those who don’t play the
power game, don’t aspire to being in the king’s inner circle.
Peasants, as it were. Like me.”
“You’ve been with me for twelve years, but that doesn’t
mean I’ve forgotten those early days when Finvarra first
foisted you on me. You were as arrogant and lacking in
compassion as any of your compatriots.”
His lips turned up into a small smile. “You said ‘were.’”
“Semantics, Seamus!” she snapped, cursing herself for the
slip-up.
His smile didn’t fade. “One of the greatest differences
between the Seelie and Unseelie Courts is that those of us who
are Seelie have free will. And we can change. The Unseelie
can’t. So you see why I distrust Hunter’s supposed change of
heart.”
He let go of her hands and stood up. “I shouldn’t have
tried to force this conversation on you. Not now, when you’re
so worried about your daughter. I meant only to give you
comfort and remind you that you’re not alone. When you’re
willing to admit the answer to my question, we’ll talk of it
more. For now, let us instead focus on how to help Kiera.”
The relief almost made her dizzy. But somehow, she
didn’t think the reprieve would last as long as she needed it to.
Hunter suspected he had smiled more in the past week
than he had in his entire life. An amazing fact, considering
death hung over his head. But he thought perhaps all the
suffering that was to come would be worth it just to have spent
this precious time with Kiera. She was so warm and open, had
such an easy laugh. When he was with her, it was as though the
outside world—and his past—didn’t exist, and he felt . . .
purified.
And the sex! He’d thought he’d had good sex in the past.
How woefully mistaken he had been! The experience was so
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much richer when you l—
Hunter shook his head violently before the thought took
root in his head. There were places it wasn’t safe for his mind
to go, and that was one of them. All he could do was count
every day he remained in the mortal world as a blessing and
live entirely in the now.
He was planning another in a series of romantic
dates—dinner and a comedy club, followed by a roll in the hay
that would leave them both too exhausted to move—when the
phone rang. He answered with only half his attention, still
thinking about his plans for tonight. When the desk clerk
announced that Cathy Malone was here to see him, his
attention snapped into focus.
He agreed to see her, though with some reluctance. He had
managed to avoid her quite neatly since he’d started sleeping
with her daughter. But, he suspected she was here because the
phooka had returned from Faerie. And he suspected it was not
good news.
Hunter opened his front door and leaned against the frame,
affecting a casual pose though his heart was in his throat. He
reminded himself that he had already given up hope, so
Cathy’s bad news shouldn’t bother him in the least. The
reminder did nothing to help.
When the elevator doors opened, the look on Cathy
Malone’s face confirmed his fears. There was a grim, worried
set to her eyes, and her shoulders screamed with tension. He let
out a quiet sigh and stepped silently aside to let her into the
apartment.
“I take it the phooka did not return from Faerie with a
miracle?” he asked.
Cathy turned to face him, her chin lifting. “I’m afraid not.
He went so far as to petition Finvarra himself, but of course the
king couldn’t be bothered to help.”
The bitterness in her voice was stunning. How Cathy hated
the King of the Seelie Court! For committing the very crime
Hunter had almost committed upon her daughter. It was
amazing that the woman didn’t buy a gun and shoot him dead.
“The King of the Seelie Court should hardly be expected
to start a war over me,” Hunter told Cathy gently.
She waved that off. “I’m sure wars have been started
between the Courts over far less.”
Hunter wasn’t entirely sure that was true. Certainly, there
had been many wars over the centuries. But through those
wars, neither Court had ever been able to gain an advantage.
All that had been accomplished was a lot of immortal dead. It
seemed under the circumstances that Finvarra and the Queen of
Air and Darkness might be less eager than they once were to
resort to open warfare.
“I don’t think I’d particularly want to be responsible for a
war,” he said. “I can’t say that I disagree with Finvarra’s
decision to stay out of it.”
“Are you sleeping with my daughter?”
Hunter jerked back in surprise at the abrupt question.
Anger surged, but he bit it back and answered calmly. “That’s
not really any of your business.”
Her back stiffened. “She’s my daughter, and you’ve
admitted you were plotting to seduce her and get her pregnant.
I think it very much is my business to know if you’ve managed
to breach her defenses.”
“If you want to know about my relationship with Kiera,
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ask her. Even if you think it’s your business to ask me that
question, I don’t think it’s my business to answer it.”
Cathy’s shoulders crackled with tension when she rolled
them. She took a deep breath, and Hunter could almost see her
marshaling her self-control. He waited patiently to see what
else she had to say to him, for she clearly was not through yet.
“Here’s the thing,” she finally said. “We can’t think of any
way to keep you out of your mother’s custody except to
imprison you in a heavily warded house. But once you went in,
you’d never be able to come out, and we all know your mother
will not slacken her guard.”
He nodded. “Yes, that’s true. And you’re right if you’re
about to say that such is not a viable alternative.”
“I know.” She breathed out loudly. “Seamus is willing to,
uh . . .” Her voice trailed off as her cheeks turned a shade of
red reminiscent of her daughter’s.
Hunter gave a short bark of bitter laughter. “The phooka is
willing to do me the great favor of killing me, is that what
you’re trying to say?” The deepening of the red in her cheeks
confirmed his assumption. He wished he hadn’t got out of the
habit of wearing the knife up his sleeve, for right now he’d
love to brandish it. “Keep the damned dog away from me,
Cathy, or I’ll gut it.”
Her cheeks went from red to white, and a look of nearterror
came into her eyes. Hunter forced himself to gentle his
tone.
“I am perfectly capable of keeping myself out of my
mother’s clutches, and knowing what awaits me if I return to
Faerie, I will take care of it. The phooka needn’t soil his jaws
on me.”
He felt a stab of guilt—once so foreign to him, and yet
now a frequent companion—at the frightened look on Cathy’s
face. Apparently, she had some fondness for the dog, although
from everything Hunter knew, even members of the Seelie
Court generally found phookas to be a terrible nuisance. A
mortal’s tolerance should have been tried to the limit by the
creature.
“I’m not threatening to go after him,” Hunter said. “I
mean only to warn him away. There’s no need to look so
worried.”
“I’m not . . .” she started, but the protest died on her lips.
She shook her head. “That wasn’t actually what I was here to
talk about.”
“Oh?”
“Perhaps we should sit down?”
Internally, he groaned. That did not sound promising at
all. But, if truth be told, Cathy had treated him much better
than he deserved, accepting and even aiding her daughter’s
quest to save him. So even while internally he cringed, he led
Cathy into his living room and they sat down. Hunter could
almost see the tension flying from her, and he wondered what
she could have to say that was worse than offering Seamus as
executioner.
“I’m going to make the assumption that you’re sleeping
with my daughter, since you won’t tell me one way or the
other,” she said. Hunter folded his arms and leaned back in the
couch, keeping his face entirely impassive. She searched his
expression for a moment before she continued on. “She’s
become very attached to you, in spite of everything. I’m afraid
losing you will be very hard on her.”
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Hunter suppressed a surge of irritation. “I’m not
particularly looking forward to her losing me either,” he said,
his voice conveying dry humor instead of anger. Cathy bit her
lip and looked even more uncomfortable than she had when
she’d started out. Hunter sighed. “Whatever you have to say,
Cathy, just get on with it. It’s obvious I’m not going to like it,
but you needn’t be afraid of me.”
That lit a fire in her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you.” The fire
died down. “I just . . . feel like a heel for asking this of you.
But I love my daughter, and if I can save her even a tiny bit of
the pain I’m afraid she’s going to suffer, then I have to do it.”
“Spit it out already!” he snapped, patience at its end.
“All right.” She took a deep breath that seemed to steady
her. “If you care for my daughter at all, if you want to lessen
her pain, then push her away. She’s falling in love with you,
Hunter. I can see it in her eyes. The end will be so much easier
to bear if you don’t let it go any further.”
Hunter clenched his fists. She wasn’t falling in love with
him. That was just a mother’s worry speaking. Kiera was fond
of him, and they certainly had a nice little fling going, but it
wasn’t as serious as all that. Obviously, Kiera cared about him
enough that it would hurt to lose him, but she would get over
it.
She’s willing to risk her life to save yours. She wouldn’t do
that if she were merely “fond of” you.
Hunter wished he could silence the damned voice in his
head, but it continued to batter against his defenses. You’ve
noticed the way she looks at you. You’ve noticed how open
she’s been, despite having every reason not to trust you.
Cathy was apparently unable to bear the silence any
longer. “If you go on like this, you’re going to become the
worst sort of tragic martyr in her mind.” Her voice quavered,
although her eyes remained dry. “It’s the kind of blow she
might never recover from. She’s been gun-shy about men for a
while now, and if she has your glorious memory to honor, she
might use that as an excuse to push them away entirely.”
He held up his hand in a peremptory demand for silence.
Cathy complied, looking nervous and wary. He leaned back
into the couch, propping his head on the back cushions and
closing his eyes. His throat ached.
Cathy was asking him to hurt Kiera, to betray the trust she
had shown him. For a good cause, to lessen the later pain of his
death. It sounded reasonable, in a twisted kind of way. It would
be gut-wrenching for him, would require the greatest acting job
of his life. But he had endured so much pain in his life, he was
sure he could do this. The only question was whether it was
truly the right thing to do.
Which was worse? To have someone you l— To have
someone you cared about die, or to have that someone betray
you?
Hunter raised his head from the cushions and opened his
eyes. Cathy was watching him anxiously, her lip raw from
chewing. He sat up straight.
“No,” he said.
Her jaw dropped, though she quickly regained her
composure. That fire kindled in her eyes again. “No? You
refuse to do the one thing that would help Kiera through this
ordeal?”
“No, I refuse to do anything that will make this worse. I
cannot believe that my destroying her trust is the lesser of the
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evils. If I die, at least it will be clear to her that it is not my
choice to leave her.”
Cathy’s face was filled with fury and . . . something else.
She said nothing, just sat there and bored holes in him with her
eyes. He met her angry gaze and tried to interpret what else he
was seeing in her expression. He frowned and concentrated
until everything popped into place.
“Ah,” he said with a nod of understanding, “now I see.
This was a test.”
Cathy blinked, and some of the hostility left her face to be
replaced with guilt.
“You thought if I selflessly agreed to push her away for
her own good, that would prove that I had no evil plans still up
my sleeve.” He shook his head, surprised to discover that he
wasn’t particularly angry about the deception. “It isn’t as
simple as that. I’ve seen this little tactic you’re proposing over
and over in books and movies. It always sounded reasonable
enough to me. But then, I’d never allowed myself to feel much
of anything for anyone. I couldn’t betray her trust when I knew
torture and death awaited me if I didn’t. I can’t betray it now.”
“Even for her own good?”
“If I believed it was for her own good, I’d do it. I think
betraying her would be the worst thing I could do.”
“You wouldn’t have to betray her. You’d just have to—”
“I’d just have to pretend that my courtship of her was
shallow and soulless, that I never really felt anything for her,
that I deceived her with sweet words. If that isn’t a betrayal, I
don’t know what is. The subject is closed, Cathy. I won’t do
it.”
To his horror, Cathy lowered her face into her hands and
burst into tears. Although he’d seen signs of her vulnerability
before, she’d usually hidden it well with anger and spirit. He
couldn’t say he was overly fond of her, but he couldn’t help
sympathizing with her plight. How terrible it must be to see
one’s child in danger and be helpless to make it better. Surely
his own father had felt much the same way, and that was why
the foolish mortal had risked the Queen’s wrath to try to whisk
Hunter away. Where his father had hoped to hide him, Hunter
had no idea. Even now as an adult, with far more resources
available than his father had had, Hunter knew there was
nowhere he could hide from the Queen, at least not forever.
And with that thought, an idea struck him.
Pure adrenaline surged through his veins. He rose from the
couch and knelt in front of Cathy’s chair, putting a hand on her
shoulder in hopes of quieting her sobs.
“I have an idea,” he told her. The excitement in his voice
seemed to reach her, and she slowly but surely regained control
of her emotions, wiping her tears away with the back of her
hand. “Have you told Kiera about Seamus’s findings yet?” he
asked.
Cathy shook her head, still dabbing at the tears. “I hadn’t
the heart to tell her. I was hoping you would . . . you know . . .
before I broke the news to her.”
“Are you capable of lying to her?”
Cathy’s face was tinged with suspicion. “What do you
mean?”
“Tell her Seamus found someplace in Faerie where I can
hide out. It would have to be some place she couldn’t visit. I’m
sure we can think of some reason. And wherever it is, I can’t
ever leave it, or the Queen would catch me.”
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The tears dried up completely. “And why can’t you at
least write to her?” she asked, and the light of hope in her eyes
showed that she’d followed his thoughts fully.
He pondered the question for a moment. “She is not
terribly knowledgeable about Faerie, considering her heritage.
Right?”
Cathy acknowledged that with a faint nod. “I told her
plenty when she was a child, but she always thought it was just
a fairy tale—forgive the pun. She isn’t completely ignorant,
but she’s hardly an expert either.”
Hunter felt himself smiling and was amazed that he could
feel so joyous about a solution that would still leave him dead.
“So we tell her Seamus has found a spell that will turn me into
a fish or a dolphin or something like that. I live underwater in
Faerie, so she can’t come with me. And I have no hands, so I
can’t write. She would have no reason to believe this isn’t
really possible.”
Cathy started to chew on her lip, then winced, for she had
already chewed it raw. She went to work on a cuticle instead,
her brow furrowed with thought. She removed her finger from
her mouth just long enough to speak. “I don’t know how
comforted she would be by the idea of you spending your life
as a dolphin.”
He managed a hint of a grin. “A fey dolphin. Cavorting in
the seas of Faerie with others of my kind. Alive and free from
the Unseelie Court. I don’t think she would see much amiss in
that.” He looked more closely at Cathy’s face. She wasn’t
much good at schooling her emotions. “Only, I think you had
best let me tell the tale. I doubt you are as accomplished a liar
as I am.”
She gave him a sharp look at that. “How convenient—you
deliver the lie, and I trust you to do as you’ve promised. If
you’re lying to me, I’ll never know until too late.”
Hunter reminded himself sharply that she had every reason
to doubt his word, and he managed to keep his temper in
check. “Have Seamus tell her, then. But you must not be
present when he does, or she’ll take one look at you and know
it’s a lie.”
“It’s a lie I’ll have to uphold the rest of my life.”
“But it will become a silent lie, one you don’t talk about
much. As long as you can keep her from the truth in the short
run, you’ll be able to keep the illusion up.”
The clarity in his mind startled him, for everything had
seemed so muddled not long ago. He had wanted to stay in the
mortal world, to preserve his life, for as long as possible. Now
he realized the fallacy of that plan: the longer he stayed, the
stronger would become the bond between himself and Kiera,
and the harder it would be on her to lose him.
Perhaps the best solution would be for him to leave now
and never be heard from again. But he would not leave Kiera
without saying goodbye first. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but
he needed that goodbye to be at peace with himself enough to
do what he had to do.
He tried to speak, but his throat closed up on him. He
coughed, trying to hide the source of the choked voice. “There
is no reason to delay things. I will . . . disappear . . . tomorrow.
I have a date with your daughter this evening. I’ll give her the
story and tell her that I am going tomorrow. Have the phooka
come by at ten tomorrow morning, and I’ll go away with him
to complete the illusion.”
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/124
She stared at him. “In other words, Kiera will be here.”
“If she wishes to be. Oh, and by the way—I’ll be going to
my own death, so tell the phooka I will not be in the mood for
any insults or humor. Understood?”
She nodded and looked away. “I’ll tell him. And . . . I’m
sorry. That we haven’t found a better way.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” he said sourly. “Now leave
me in peace. I will need to gather myself before I can face this
evening.”
Cathy rose, and he rose with her. An awkward silence
followed. After a long moment during which neither of them
seemed able to find the right words, Cathy headed for the door.
She did not look back as she let herself out.
Chapter 15
Kiera snuggled into the warmth of Hunter’s body as they
walked the four blocks from the comedy club back to their
apartment building. His arm around her shoulders felt
wonderful, and the scent of his leather coat blended beautifully
with his cologne.
Although the evening had been truly romantic, with a
scrumptious candle-lit dinner and enough sexual innuendo to
leave her blood singing in anticipation, she’d sensed a certain
underlying sadness in Hunter tonight. His laughter at the
comedy club had sounded hollow to her ears, and even now,
when she was basking in the glory of being close to him, she
felt the pall.
She held her peace until they were safely back in his
apartment. He took her coat and draped it over a chair. While
he slipped off his own coat, she turned to him, arms akimbo.
“All right. Tell me what’s wrong,” she demanded.
He halted momentarily, then laid his coat on top of hers
and turned to face her. “Nothing beyond the usual.” He smiled,
but it was a very sad smile. “Don’t let me put a damper on the
evening with my mood.” His smile transformed from sad to
lascivious. “Actually, you might be able to improve my mood.”
She’d been aching all evening to have him inside her, so
she decided to figure out why he was especially gloomy today
at some later time. She flashed him a mock-innocent glance
and batted her eyelashes. “I can’t imagine what you might be
talking about.”
He came to stand only inches from her, close enough that
she could feel the warmth of his body even though they
weren’t touching. She had to strain her neck to meet his eyes,
but it was worth it to see the light that shone in them. Oh, it
was going to be hot tonight, all right!
Kiera rose to her tiptoes so she could brush her lips against
his. He started to lean forward to take her lips more firmly, but
she put a hand on his chest to hold him off. It seemed to take a
mountain of self-control for him not to plow on through her
resistance. She licked her lips invitingly, still holding him off.
“If I’m to cheer you up, you have to let me do this my
way,” she told him.
He raised his eyebrows. “Your way? What’s wrong with
my way?” He narrowed his eyes as if in anger, but the
expression in them was pure mischief. “You’ve never
complained about it before.”
She laughed. Perhaps she should have tried taking charge
before. She rather liked seeing Hunter out of his element.
“Now, now, no pouting. Be a good boy and humor me.”
He sighed heavily and put on a look of stoic acceptance.
“Oh, all right! If you insist.”
She looked him over from head to toe, a grin tugging at
the corners of her mouth. She circled him, continuing her slow
examination, then put both hands on his chest and worked the
top button of his shirt loose. Hunter closed his eyes in pleasure
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as she lightly stroked the skin her fingers had exposed. Her
fingertips felt the ever-increasing speed of his pulse. She freed
two more buttons, then planted a series of soft kisses on his
chest as her hands continued their work.
Kiera savored the taste of him as her kisses turned more
ardent and she heightened the torment with little flicks of her
tongue. When the last button was open, she untucked the shirt
from his pants with a swift, sure motion. Hunter shrugged his
shoulders until the shirt fell free. She allowed herself to admire
his lean but muscular frame for a moment before slipping her
arms around him and continuing her oral exploration.
Hunter, clearly not used to being a passive lover, raised his
hands with the obvious intention of cupping her breasts, but
she grabbed his wrists to still them.
“Remember, I’m in charge here,” she said, her lips only
millimeters from his skin.
“I’m not allowed to touch you?”
She laughed and ran the tip of her tongue over his nipple.
“All in good time.”
He lowered his hands back to his sides with obvious
reluctance. “I’m at your mercy. Do with me as you will.”
She complied by teasing first one nipple then the other
into a hard little bud as she pressed her body against him,
moving her hips so she could feel the hard length of his
erection. Her fingernails raked down his back, then plunged
under the waistband of his pants.
“Ah, woman, you’re killing me!” he complained
breathlessly as her hands stroked his ass. But he obediently
kept his own hands at his sides. Her patience with the foreplay
was wavering, so she withdrew her hands and unbuckled his
belt. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said.
She glanced up at his face briefly as she slid his zipper
down. Despite his grumbling, his face practically glowed with
pleasure, and he was watching her hands with heavy-lidded
eyes. She pulled the pants and shorts down, biting her lower lip
in anticipation when his erection sprang free.
Hunter’s pants and shorts were gathered at his ankles. He
tried to free his feet, but he was still wearing his shoes and
socks. Kiera stilled his efforts with firm hands.
“Here, let me,” she said, then knelt and slipped his shoes
and socks off, tossing them aside. The pants and shorts soon
followed. When she straightened, Kiera found herself on eye
level with his penis. She reached up to run her fingers gently
over the smooth shaft, smiling in pleasure to hear the moan
that escaped Hunter’s lips. “I suppose while I’m in the
neighborhood . . .” she murmured, then mimicked the course
of her fingers with her tongue.
Hunter’s moan turned into a near wail, and his breaths
came in short gasps. Feeling bolder and more uninhibited than
she could ever remember feeling, Kiera slipped her hand
between his legs to cup his balls while she opened her mouth
and took him in. He buried his hands in her hair as she sucked
greedily, running her tongue against his shaft, drunk with her
power to arouse him. She took him deeper, then moved her
tongue in an unmistakable rhythm that started his hips
thrusting.
“Kiera, stop,” he croaked, his hands urging her head away
from him.
Her own desire raged so fiercely that it took a concerted
effort to release him. She looked up at him, wondering if
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somehow she had offended him with her forwardness. The
look in his eyes instantly quelled that worry.
“I want to be making love to you when I come,” he told
her. He drew her to her feet and kissed her, hard and deep.
For a moment, Kiera forgot that she was in charge and lost
herself in Hunter’s breathtaking kiss. She wrapped her arms
around his neck and pressed her body tight to his, putting just
enough space between her thighs to fit his erection. But she’d
been having too much fun teasing and pleasuring him, so when
her head cleared from that first waft of fog, she once more
pulled away.
“Kiera,” he said in warning tones, his predatory nature
fully revealed in his posture and expression.
She grinned, entirely unintimidated. “Behave yourself,
Hunter Teague. Remember, tonight I’m running the show.”
She ran a finger along his shaft once more, watched the flame
dance in his eyes. “I promise not to disappoint.”
He took a shuddering breath. “I’m cooperating to the best
of my ability, but if you don’t hurry this along I’m going to
ravage you against the wall.”
Deciding that he was indeed near the point of losing all
control, Kiera relented and started toward his bedroom,
shedding clothes as she went, Hunter hot on her heels. By the
time she passed through the bedroom door, she was naked, her
clothes strewn in a line behind her.
When they neared his bed, Hunter reached for her, then
caught himself just as she was about to give him another gentle
reminder. He lowered his hands back to his sides.
“Lie down,” she commanded, jerking her chin toward the
bed. He raised a single eyebrow, but hesitated only briefly
before he obeyed. He lay on his side, propped on his elbow,
and watched as she opened the drawer in his nightstand. She
stuck out her lower lip as she picked up the single box of
condoms that remained. “Looks like we’ve decimated your
supply,” she said as she opened the box and shook out the final
two foil-wrapped packages. “We’ll have to make these count.”
“Believe me, I plan to get my money’s worth out of them.
Now get over here!”
She laughed and opened one of the packets, putting the
condom on the pillow where it would be in easy reach when
needed. Then she climbed onto the bed and pushed on Hunter’s
shoulder until he lay flat on his back. She straddled him,
covering his chest with kisses once more. When his groans
grew desperate, she lifted her head to meet his eyes and
decided she had tortured him enough. She put the condom on
him, the touch of her hands making his back arch with
pleasure.
Kiera slowly, deliciously lowered herself onto him. Waves
of heat radiated from their joined bodies, leaving her
breathless. Hunter reached for her breasts, and she was too
suffused with pleasure to argue with him. She leaned into his
hands, rocking her hips gently, wanting to draw out the
pleasure as long as possible.
Hunter tolerated her deliberate pace for a few delicious
minutes; then, Kiera gave a startled gasp as he pitched below
her. Before she knew quite what was happening, she found
herself on her back, Hunter thrusting hard and deep on top of
her. She wrapped arms and legs around him drawing his head
down to hers so their tongues could dance.
The bed creaked and groaned in protest as the power of
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Hunter’s thrusts shoved them both up to the headboard. A
groan escaped Kiera with each breath and she dug her
fingernails into his shoulders, her hips rising to meet his. She
had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming when the climax
seized her. Hunter followed close behind, letting out a roar that
was probably heard throughout the ninth floor.
Kiera closed her eyes and tried to slow her gasping
breaths, her body limp and sated. Arms and legs slid away
from Hunter’s body and she lay still as she listened to the
pounding of the blood in her ears. She wanted nothing more
than to lie like this forever, Hunter’s body hot and heavy above
her. But he needed to withdraw and get rid of the condom. She
opened her eyes to remind him of the necessity.
Words died in her throat when she saw his face. No hint of
color remained in his cheeks, and misery filled his eyes. Her
heart clutched to see his distress and she reached up to touch
his cheek gently.
“What’s the matter, Hunter?” she asked.
He closed his eyes, but that did nothing to hide the misery
etched into the lines of his face. He sat up and withdrew from
her.
“Hunter?” she prompted. But then she saw the reason for
the change in him and she felt as though her heart had stopped.
The condom had ruptured.
Seconds dragged by as Kiera tried to absorb what had just
happened to her, as she realized what she had first taken for
misery on his face was actually guilt. Her heart slammed
painfully against her chest, and though she knew tears would
come later, the fury was so great that for the moment her eyes
remained dry.
“You bastard!” she shouted. “You heartless, soulless
bastard!” She jerked herself away from him, disentangling her
legs with some difficulty. A sob rose from her chest and her
eyes burned, though the tears remained lodged within her. She
lurched off the bed. “How could I have been so stupid?”
Hunter grabbed her arms. She tried to jab backward with
her elbows, but she couldn’t get enough momentum to do more
than annoy him.
“Kiera, wait,” he said, his voice maddeningly calm.
“Let go of me!” She tried to tear her arms from his grip,
but he was far too strong. What kind of idiot let herself fall
into bed with a man who’d admitted lying to her, trying to
seduce her under false pretenses? And what kind of deluded
wishful thinking had led her to think he would suffer the
tortures of the Unseelie Court to spare her? “I should have let
Seamus kill you!”
“Maybe so.”
She felt sick to her stomach, and his fingers dug harshly
into her flesh. “You’re hurting me!” she cried, but his grip
didn’t slacken.
“I’m sorry. But I need you to hear this even though I know
you won’t believe me. Kiera, I didn’t do it on purpose. I swear
to you.”
But his words fell on deaf ears. She remembered how he’d
interrupted the blow job he’d obviously been enjoying. And
she remembered how he’d been unwilling to lie still beneath
her. If she’d needed any further evidence that she had been the
worst kind of fool, these facts were it.
“I’ve heard it,” she snarled. “Now let me go! And you sure
as hell better find a deep hole to hide in, because when my
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mother finds out what you’ve done, your life won’t be worth
shit.”
Hunter released her arms. She stumbled forward, and it
was only by the greatest willpower that she refrained from
running naked out into the hall to escape him. She snatched up
her clothes, buttoning her shirt unevenly, sticking her bra and
panties into a pocket. Shoving her feet into her shoes, she
rushed toward the front door as if pursued.
She was dimly aware that Hunter had followed her out to
the living room, but she didn’t look back as she yanked the
door open.
“I love you.”
Hunter’s voice followed her, but the words didn’t even
slow her down as she slammed the door behind her and
punched the button on the elevator with tears now pouring
freely down her cheeks.
Hunter removed the remains of the ruined condom,
flinging it violently away from him as his knees gave out. He
landed heavily on his butt, sitting naked and stunned in the
middle of his living room.
He remembered Bane handling the bag of condoms,
remembered the goblin suggesting he use ones that had been
spelled to break when Kiera was fertile. Bane had brought him
the spelled condoms the next day, but Hunter had thrown them
away, just to be sure he didn’t accidentally use one. He might
have thought that tonight’s condom really did break because
he’d been too vigorous, but every instinct told him that wasn’t
the case.
No, Bane had somehow tampered with the ones he’d taken
from Hunter. That was why the damned goblin had played
keep-away with them, why he’d acted like he didn’t think
Hunter needed them. It had all been a ruse, which suggested
that either Bane or his mother or both knew he wouldn’t have
the heart to betray Kiera of his own accord.
Damn them both, and damn the Unseelie Court, and damn
him right along with them! How could he not have seen the
danger? And why couldn’t he have gracefully disappeared this
afternoon after speaking with Cathy? He had wanted to say
goodbye to Kiera, to make love to her one more time. And for
that selfish desire, he had ruined everything.
The condoms had been spelled to break if Kiera was
fertile. Which meant she was now pregnant. But she wouldn’t
let him near her to try to protect her and the baby—he was
certain of that too. Not to mention that he probably didn’t have
the means to protect either of them effectively. It wasn’t as
though he’d been capable of protecting even himself.
Was it hopeless? Was there no way he could save Kiera
and their child from the evil of the Unseelie Court?
Despair weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he hadn’t
the strength to rise from the floor. He’d never felt so helpless
before, not even as a seven-year-old child watching his father’s
execution. At least then, he’d been secure in the knowledge
that there was nothing he could do. Now his soul screamed that
there had to be something he could do.
And it occurred to him that there was. His chances of
success were slim at best. And he condemned himself to the
slow and painful death he’d dreaded for so long, whether he
succeeded or failed. But if there was a chance in a thousand
that he could undo the damage he’d inflicted on Kiera, then he
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would take it.
The resolve strengthened him. He would have to take
some precautions before he left, would have to give Kiera the
greatest possible chance to hold off the forces of the Unseelie
Court if he failed. She would have to accept the imprisonment
in her mother’s house that he had refused for himself. He
thought for the sake of the child she would do it. However, he
had to explain what had happened or she would never go to her
mother’s house.
She was far too wounded and angry to let him in her
apartment or answer her phone or even read a letter that he
passed her. He needed a messenger. He briefly considered
calling Cathy, but her maternal fury was more than he was
willing to face. She and Seamus might hunt him down and kill
him before he escaped to Faerie, for they were no more likely
to believe his innocence than Kiera.
Then he remembered the flighty Jackson Davis, who had
started all the present madness by giving Kiera that first
condom. His heart aching, but his resolve firm, Hunter dragged
himself up from the floor.
Kiera’s eyes were swollen with crying. She bent over her
bathroom sink and splashed a handful of cold water on her
face. The water’s cold bite helped drag her from the heartsick
stupor she’d been in ever since she’d left Hunter’s apartment.
Hunter’s betrayal hurt in every pore. How could she have
allowed herself to trust him after she knew the truth about
him? What an utter fool she had been! She probably deserved
the pain she was in, just for being so stupid.
Into that fog of pain intruded a memory—Hunter’s soft,
despairing voice whispering I love you as she fled.
She didn’t believe it, of course. He wouldn’t have
betrayed her like that if he loved her. And it was impossible to
believe that the breaking of the condom had been an accident,
not under the circumstances. Still, there was some small,
desperate part of her that wanted to believe it had been, wanted
to believe that under his Unseelie facade lay a good man with a
good heart.
The doorbell rang. Kiera stepped out of the bathroom and
stared at her front door. It had to be Hunter, coming to try to
explain his way out of everything now that she’d had some
time to calm down. She wasn’t about to give him the
opportunity.
The doorbell rang again, and was shortly followed by
Jackson’s voice. “Kiera, I know you’re in there,” he said. “Let
me in.”
She shook her head in confusion, frowning at her watch. It
was almost midnight. What the hell was Jackson doing here at
this hour? A hint of alarm made her start toward the door,
though as she crossed the short distance she thought to herself
that surely he would have called first if something were wrong.
Hunter’s betrayal had awakened every self-protective
instinct in Kiera’s body, and she checked through the peephole
to make sure that it was really Jackson who demanded entry.
And to make sure he was alone.
She swung the door cautiously open just as Jackson was
reaching for the doorbell again. He let his hand drop back to
his side when he saw her.
“What are you doing here, Jackson?” she asked in a tearravaged
voice.
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“May I come in?”
She would have said no, would have told him now wasn’t
a good time, if she weren’t so sure he knew that already. Her
shoulders slumping in defeat, she stepped out of the doorway
to let him in. He stepped inside, then pushed the door closed
and suddenly enveloped her in a hug.
Tears stinging once again in her eyes, she clung to him,
absurdly grateful for his warm and comforting presence. For a
long moment she remained in his embrace, trying not to think
at all. Then he gently released her and guided her toward her
bedroom. She was too numb and dispirited to ask him again
what he was doing here.
Once in her bedroom, Jackson bade her sit and she obeyed
without thought, leaning her back against the wall and
clutching a pillow tightly to her chest. Jackson disappeared into
her closet and returned carrying a small suitcase, which he
opened and laid on the bed beside her.
Everything still felt strangely unreal, but Kiera found her
voice. “What are you doing?”
“I’m helping you pack a bag. You need to spend some
time at your mother’s.”
She shook her head, the break from reality now worse.
“What are you talking about? And what are you doing here?”
He pushed the suitcase aside and sat on the bed beside her,
his eyes full of concern. “Hunter called me.” She winced at the
sound of that name. “He told me what happened and asked me
to get you to your mother’s house ASAP.”
She rubbed her face, amazed that after what had happened
Hunter would have the gall to try this. “Absolutely not!” she
declared. “Hunter does not get to order me around, not after
what he did.”
“Well, here’s the thing, Kiera: he says you’re pregnant.”
The word was like a lightning bolt. Her hands clenched
into sweaty fists and her heart leapt into her throat as she fixed
Jackson with a disbelieving stare. “What?”
He looked sheepish and distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m not
sure how much of this I’m buying, if any, but I’m trying to
keep an open mind, since I’ve told you to do that any number
of times. Hunter says there was a spell on the condom, and it
broke because you were fertile.” His cheeks turned slightly
pink, and Kiera thought that at any other time she would have
teased him for his embarrassment. “He says you have to get to
your mother’s house and put yourself under her protection
before anyone but him knows, or you’re likely to be abducted
by goblins.”
She groaned and closed her eyes. God, it was even worse
than she’d thought. And after his pathetic attempts to persuade
her of his innocence, here he was coming right out and
admitting his guilt by telling her about the spell on the
condom. The bastard! She tried to summon some righteous
anger, for maybe anger would give her the strength she needed
to face this horrible night. But the anger wouldn’t come, the
despair so strong no other emotion could take root.
“Let’s pack you an overnight bag,” Jackson said, standing
up once more. “Whatever’s really going on, you’re obviously
in pain, and I think you’re best off going to your mother’s
house.”
She nodded mutely and sat on her bed staring into space
like an idiot as Jackson packed a bag for her.
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Kiera hadn’t said a word during the brief cab ride from her
apartment to her mother’s house. Jackson hadn’t complained.
He merely sat there and held her hand tightly, offering his
silent support, for which she was so grateful she couldn’t
express it in words. He should have just dropped her off and
then taken the taxi back to his own apartment, but he paid the
driver and accompanied her to her mother’s door, still holding
her hand.
“I can take it from here, Jackson,” she tried, surprised to
find she still had a voice.
“I’m not leaving until I’ve seen you safely delivered into
your mother’s hands,” he said, reaching out to ring the
doorbell.
It took a while for her mother to come to the door. The
house had been completely dark when the cab had pulled up,
which meant her mother had been asleep already. Kiera’s
cheeks heated slightly. What if she hadn’t been asleep? What if
she were with Alonso? This could turn into an even worse
nightmare!
When her mother opened the door, she was wearing a
white terrycloth robe, and her skin was almost a perfect match
for its color.
“Kiera, honey, what’s wrong?” she cried.
A big, nasty lump had formed in Kiera’s throat and she
couldn’t force out any words. Jackson nudged her shoulder,
and she flung herself into her mother’s arms.
“What is it?” her mother asked, sounding even more
desperate.
“Hunter claims to have gotten her pregnant,” Jackson
answered.
Kiera’s mother gripped her shoulders and pushed her away
to look into her face. Kiera fought the tide of tears, knowing
she wouldn’t be able to speak a coherent sentence until
somehow she regained control of herself. The look of stricken
compassion in her mother’s eyes nearly set her off again.
Still struggling with the tears, Kiera hardly noticed being
guided into her mother’s living room, or sitting on the sofa
with Jackson beside her, or Phantom leaping up on the sofa on
her other side and putting his head in her lap.
Taking slow, deep breaths, she absently scratched behind
the dog’s ears as her mother disappeared into the kitchen and
returned with a cup of tea. Kiera took a sip, yearning for some
warmth to thaw the ice that had formed in her chest and belly.
Phantom sighed dramatically now that she was no longer
scratching his ears, and that sound wrenched a part of her mind
back into reality. She blinked and looked down at him,
remembering that the head in her lap wasn’t really a dog’s.
“So,” Jackson said, “that’s the, uh, phooka, right?”
Kiera’s mother gave her a reproving look and another
piece of her self seemed to snap back into place. “Jackson
knows everything,” she said, then looked at Phantom once
more. “Will you cut the loveable pooch act?”
He sat up on the couch and gave her a doggie grin, though
when she noted the expression in his eyes she wondered how
she could ever have mistaken him for a real dog. Kiera put her
tea down and met Phantom’s intelligent eyes.
“Any chance you can prove to Jackson that I haven’t gone
entirely insane?”
Phantom raised one eyebrow—something she couldn’t
ever remember seeing a dog do before—then turned a
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questioning gaze to her mother, who shrugged.
“I can’t think of any reason why you shouldn’t,” she said,
then turned her own questioning glance on Jackson. “You’re
not going to faint dead away or anything, are you?”
“I might,” he said cheerfully, though he was looking a
little wild-eyed. “But you can always revive me.”
His eyes suddenly widened even more, and Kiera turned to
see Seamus sitting beside her. The phooka’s gaze was kindly
compassionate as he looked at her.
“Tell us what has happened,” he urged.
By the time Kiera had spit out the whole story—her
cheeks burning, for it was distinctly uncomfortable to talk
about her sex life with her mother and two men—the look in
the phooka’s eyes was anything but kindly.
“He will die for this,” he said in a voice so cold it sent
chills down her spine.
Jackson cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention to
himself. “Uh, I think maybe he’s not guilty.”
Seamus bared his teeth and glared, but Kiera put a hand on
his shoulder to restrain him. “Let him talk!” she insisted.
Jackson rubbed his hands up and down his pants legs.
“Here’s the thing: he called me and asked me to get Kiera
safely here, where she’s, uh, protected by wardings or
something.”
“Far too little, far too late,” Seamus snarled.
“But that’s not all.” Jackson reached into his jacket and
pulled out a pair of envelopes, one of which was unmarked,
and one of which had Kiera’s name written across the front.
“He gave me these, and he said I should open this one,” here
he held up the unmarked envelope, “when Kiera was under the
safety of your roof.”
Kiera’s mother reached out and snatched the envelope
neatly from Jackson’s hand, sliding her finger under the flap
and tearing it open in two quick flicks. She pulled the letter out
and read it, her eyes darting quickly across the page. Kiera held
her breath and reached for Jackson’s hand, needing the anchor
to reality. To her surprise, Seamus took her other hand, his grip
firm and sure.
After an eternity, her mother refolded the letter and let her
hands fall into her lap.
“What is it?” Kiera cried, unable to keep silent any longer.
“I think Jackson’s right and he’s not guilty,” her mother
said, and Kiera gasped. “He’s going back to Faerie tonight.
Probably he’s gone already.” She gave Kiera a heartbreaking
look. “He’s going to try to assassinate the Queen.”
Kiera tried to shoot to her feet, but as both Seamus and
Jackson had hold of her hands she didn’t go anywhere. “What?
Why?”
“Remember what I told you about the Unseelie Queen?”
Kiera groaned. “This is no time for a quiz, Mom. Just tell
me.”
“She’s an elemental being clothed in flesh. It was that
flesh that gave birth to Hunter. If he destroys her body, even
when the Court generates a new one, he will no longer be the
Queen’s son. And the child you carry will have no blood link
to the Queen.” She held up the letter once more. “He says that
if he destroys that blood link, the Queen will no longer want
the child.”
“But . . . but that’s crazy!” Kiera sputtered. “Surely it
can’t be that easy to kill her! And even if he succeeds . . .” Her
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voice died, for she couldn’t bring herself to utter the words.
“Even he succeeds, he’ll be doing so in the depths of the
Unseelie Court, and there will be no escape for him,” Seamus
finished for her.
“We have to stop him!” She tried once more to rise, but
Seamus and Jackson both tightened their grips on her hands.
“Let me go!” she shouted.
“Kiera, sit down,” her mother said in a voice of quiet
command, and the fight went out of her. “Even if you could
have done something to stop him, it’s too late now. He’s
arranged to give himself a head start we can’t overcome.”
Kiera hadn’t thought she could possibly feel worse than
she had earlier. How wrong she had been! “Oh, what have I
done? I was so awful to him!”
Jackson put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her
close. “You had good cause to doubt him,” he soothed. “No
one could possibly blame you for it.”
“I can blame me!” she retorted. She should have known
Hunter better than that, should have trusted the instincts that
told her he had changed. Should have realized that if he were
truly the villain she’d convinced herself he was, he would have
had no reason to tell her he loved her as she’d been walking
out the door. Now he was going to die to save her and their
child, not even putting up a fight to save his own life.
Jackson put the other letter into her hand, his voice barely
making it through her consciousness. “Maybe you should read
this now,” he said.
She took the letter and saw how the ink smeared from the
tears that dripped onto it. “I don’t know if I can bear to read
it,” she whispered.
“He’s not angry with you, Kiera,” Jackson insisted. “He
understands why you didn’t trust him. I’m confident that isn’t
an angry letter you’re holding.”
She didn’t answer. It wasn’t an angry letter she feared.
Anger she would welcome, for it was her due. But she knew
that wasn’t what she’d find in this letter, knew Hunter would
shame her with his calm and steady acceptance of her
behavior. She had thought herself betrayed; but it was she who
betrayed him by not trusting him, by not at least giving him a
chance to explain. Her hand clenched around the letter,
crumpling the paper in the middle.
“I need to be alone when I read this.”
Three sets of eyes bored into her. She took a deep breath
and sat up straighter, her eyes dry for the first time in hours.
Hunter was knowingly subjecting himself to far more pain than
she could imagine. Surely she could stand to subject herself to
the pain of reading his final words to her.
Her mother nodded and stood. “All right. Let’s get you
settled in your room. I’ll bring you another cup of tea, and then
Seamus and I will strengthen the wards around all the doors
and windows. If Hunter fails, we’re in for quite a siege.”
In a daze, Kiera allowed her mother to guide her up the
stairs to her bedroom, Jackson following behind with her
suitcase in hand. She sat on her bed and waited until her
mother brought her the promised cup of tea and retreated.
Then, she opened the envelope.
Chapter 16
Hunter felt strangely calm as he strapped the silver knife
once more to his arm and pulled down his sleeve to cover it.
He hadn’t worn it since the day his true identity had been
revealed, and though at first he had felt naked without it, now
it felt strange to have it back. He tried an experimental flick of
his wrist, and the knife slid smoothly into his palm. He was
gratified to see that he hadn’t lost his touch. And exceedingly
grateful that Jackson was enough of a friend to Kiera to spare a
drop of his mortal blood to anoint the blade. Without that
blood, the taint of mortality, Hunter knew his knife would be
powerless against the Queen.
Returning the knife to its sheath, he swept his apartment
with one final, regretful glance. He had been happy here. At
least, as happy as he’d ever been in his life. Despite
everything, he was glad to have known that brief span of
almost-happiness. He only wished Kiera had not had to suffer
so for him to experience it.
Telling himself not to look back, he slipped out the door.
His nerves were too raw to allow him to wait for the elevator,
so he went down the emergency stairs instead. He wasn’t really
afraid, not as he should be considering the torment he would
face whether he succeeded or failed. But the enormity of the
stakes was enough to overawe even him, and doubt plagued
him.
The Queen of Air and Darkness was anything but a fool.
She knew he hated her, had known it from the moment she’d
forced him to watch his father’s first flogging. And Bane
would not have interfered in the seduction if he hadn’t known
Hunter had feelings for Kiera. If Bane knew it, certainly the
Queen knew it, and certainly she would expect her son’s hatred
to be burning bright. That knowledge might cause her to be
more cautious than she had been in the past, and he might find
himself divested of his weapon before he got anywhere near
her.
The cold snap that had seized the city during November
had now taken up permanent residence, and when Hunter
stepped out into the night the air bit into his cheeks like knives.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and hunched his
shoulders against the cold as he strode briskly down the street.
Perhaps it would be sensible to hail a nice, heated cab to take
him to Logan Circle, but again he balked at the idea of holding
still so long. Better to suffer the cold and keep moving.
When he reached the city’s unique circular Square, his feet
were numb from the cold, as were his ears and the tip of his
nose. His breath frosted the air before him as he let out a deep
sigh. Once he set foot in Faerie, his decision would be
irreversible. But Kiera and the child she carried were worth
everything he was about to go through.
His resolve firm and his mind calm, Hunter began walking
briskly counterclockwise around the circle. On his ninth
circuit, the lights and noise and cold of the city shimmered and
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disappeared.
The tension in Seamus’s posture and the curl of his lip as
he followed Cathy through her inspection of the house
strengthened her confidence in the power of the wards she was
setting up. She’d put the iron knife back under the doormat,
then added a horseshoe for good measure. In her basement,
she’d kept several boxes of dried-up rowan branches, which
she now broke into twigs and attached to every window with
nails and tape.
“I think the house is secure, Cathy,” Seamus said gently,
but she ignored him and picked up another branch of rowan.
Her hands were shaking a bit, and the hammer missed its mark.
She yelped in pain, dropping both the rowan and the hammer,
narrowly missing her toes.
The pain did what the fear had failed to, and she broke
down. Seamus quickly gathered her into his arms and she
clung to him gratefully. “Oh, God, Seamus! What’s going to
happen to my baby?” she wailed.
“Hush, Cathy,” he murmured, rocking her. “We’ll keep
her safe, I promise. No goblin could penetrate these defenses.
Trust me, I couldn’t penetrate them to get out of the house, so
no goblin is getting in.”
She hadn’t even thought about the fact that she was
trapping Seamus inside. Scolding herself roundly for her loss
of composure, she wiped away the tears and tried her best to
stop sniffling. “I don’t mean to trap you in here, Seamus,” she
said. “This isn’t your battle, and . . .”
He was looking sternly down his nose at her, and she
found she couldn’t finish the silly sentence. Of course it was
his battle; he’d been sent here by Finvarra to protect Kiera.
Certainly Finvarra would order him to remain on guard. She
sighed heavily.
“Perhaps Finvarra’s been right all along,” she said.
“Perhaps we should take Kiera to Faerie.”
To her surprise, Seamus shook his head. “Bad idea,” he
told her. “Very bad idea.”
She frowned at him, for he had seemed very much in favor
of the idea in the past. “Why?”
He put his hands on her shoulders, turning her so she faced
him squarely. “She’s pregnant with a potential heir to both the
Seelie and Unseelie thrones. Do you think for one moment that
Finvarra would allow a threat like that to live?”
Her knees quivered, and if it weren’t for Seamus’s firm
hands she might have collapsed to the floor. She had realized
Finvarra would see the child as a threat, but she hadn’t allowed
herself to think what that might mean.
“Do you have any idea what a child borne of those two
bloodlines could do?” Seamus asked softly, and Cathy had to
shake her head. “The only reason neither Court has been able
to gain an advantage after centuries of contention is that our
strengths are perfectly in balance, each court with unique
abilities that counter those of the other. But a child related by
blood to both Finvarra and the Queen of Air and Darkness
would be able to do it all, would destroy the balance.” He
shuddered. “Far too dangerous to be allowed to live. No, you
cannot take Kiera to Faerie while her child poses such a threat.
Not unless you wish to see the infant killed the minute it is
born.”
Cathy trembled as she looked into Seamus’s face.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/137
“Finvarra would kill his own grandchild?”
He nodded. “If he thought he had to, yes. Once, very long
ago, one of his sons tried to lead a revolt against him. Finvarra
didn’t hesitate to execute him.”
She hugged herself, hating the thought that she had once
been in that monster’s arms.
“He does what he has to do, Cathy,” Seamus said,
reaching for her, loosening her hands so he could take them
again. “He doesn’t mean to be cruel.”
“I’m sure that would make Kiera feel much better about it
if he killed her baby.”
He winced. “He won’t kill the baby, because Kiera is
going to stay here if Hunter fails. Much though she might
chafe at being kept prisoner, I’m sure she could be convinced
to submit to it for the child’s sake.”
Cathy chewed her lip, wishing she could stop the old
annoying habit. “And what about you, Seamus?” she asked.
“You’re Finvarra’s man, and you’ve said yourself that this
child is a terrible threat. You’ve obeyed his every command.
When he commands you to kill the child, or bring it to him to
be killed, will you do it?”
He stepped closer to her, still holding her hands. For a fey
man, he wasn’t particularly tall, but she still had to look up to
meet his eyes. She found her gaze suddenly locked with his,
and she was fascinated by the wise, grave expression in those
usually placid brown eyes.
“Do you not know me better than that by now, Cathy?” he
asked, his voice so soft she had to strain to hear him. “Do you
think I could ever bear to harm you or anyone you loved?”
Her breath caught in her throat and she was struck
speechless by his words, by the emotion that shone clearly on
his face. So long she had told herself it was merely an act, that
he pretended to feel human emotions in order to disarm her. So
long she had convinced herself that he was fey, incapable of
compassion or care. But now she couldn’t deny what she saw
in his eyes, couldn’t tell herself he was just Finvarra’s servant
meant to bedevil her.
She swallowed hard. “No,” she said, forcing the word out
through the constriction of her throat. “I know you wouldn’t.
And I trust you.”
He gazed down at her another long moment. Then he
lowered his head and set his lips to hers.
A little gasp of surprise escaped her, but her own lips
parted instinctively. His kiss was feather-light, tentative, and
oh so sweet. She rose to her tip-toes to press her lips more
firmly against his. He took the not-so-subtle hint and deepened
the kiss, letting go of her hands and drawing her into a more
intimate embrace. He explored her lips with his own while
keeping his tongue chastely in his own mouth.
He broke away from the kiss far sooner than Cathy
wanted. Her every nerve tingled with desire. He held her at
arm’s length, cupping her face in his hands and looking down
at her in silence. Surely he must feel how the blood pounded in
her veins!
Twelve years Seamus had shared this house with her. How
could she have failed to notice how dear he had become to her?
And yet, how could she have guessed that her body would sing
at his touch? She might almost have suspected he had wrapped
her in glamour, except she remembered what that had felt like,
remembered the cloud that had drifted over her mind when
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Finvarra had started to pursue her. Now, her mind was clear,
her thoughts her own.
Seamus didn’t have the unearthly beauty of the Sidhe. He
was not so tall, his frame not so slender, his features not so
patrician. Had he been human, she would have said his hairline
was receding, but as he was an immortal she knew the hairline
would stay right where it was for the rest of his life. She
thought the high forehead so revealed gave his face even more
dignity.
She smiled, savoring the warmth of his hands on her
cheeks. “That felt awfully nice. May I have another?”
His thumbs stroked across her cheekbones as he raised his
eyebrows. “What about Alonso? I don’t wish to poach on
another man’s territory.”
She snorted. “I am no man’s territory you dolt!” He didn’t
quite smile, but something in his expression told her he was
amused. Her indignation faded. “Seamus, are you teasing me?”
Now there really was a smile on his lips. “You always tell
me I don’t act enough like a phooka, so I thought I’d try it
out.”
Great. Seamus finally found a sense of humor and it had to
be now of all times.
His smile didn’t last long. “Teasing aside, my question
about Alonso was quite serious.”
Cathy frowned and took a couple steps backward to give
herself some room. Alonso hadn’t come into her mind for even
a moment when Seamus had kissed her. Although Finvarra had
forced her to be unfaithful to her husband, such behavior was
anathema to her. That she had not even thought about her
relationship with Alonso when Seamus kissed her was the
surest sign in the world that she had been wrong—Alonso was
not her soul mate. Not so long ago, she had been sure he was.
But perhaps that had been wishful thinking. She had searched
for her soul mate for so long that perhaps she had pushed to see
something that wasn’t there.
“I guess I won’t be seeing Alonso anymore,” she said,
only the slightest hint of regret in her voice.
He closed the distance she had put between them. “Well,
in that case . . .” He dipped his head and gave her an achingly
sweet kiss.
Cathy surrendered herself to the kiss, wrapping her arms
around him. When he would have kept the kiss relatively
chaste, she urged his lips open with her tongue. The meeting of
their tongues made her head spin. She wanted him with an
urgency that couldn’t be denied. Breaking away from the kiss,
she started pulling him to the staircase that led to her bedroom.
He followed eagerly, and she felt his eyes like a physical
touch.
A twinge of guilt slowed her footsteps when she passed by
the closed door to Kiera’s bedroom, but she pushed it away.
Just because Kiera was in pain didn’t mean Cathy had to deny
herself. It just meant that she and Seamus would have to be
quiet.
She pushed open the bedroom door and switched the light
on. Seamus slipped through the open door, then closed it
behind him. His eyes promised untold pleasures, and Cathy
backed toward her bed, beckoning him to follow with a crook
of her finger. He obeyed eagerly.
His lips curved into a mischievous grin. “I hope you like it
doggie-style,” he teased.
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Cathy groaned even as she smiled. “I can see I’ll have to
help you lose that sense of humor again.” She pulled her
blouse off over her head.
Seamus’s nostrils flared and his eyes glowed with desire.
“Laughter is the last thing on my mind,” he assured her as he
reached for her.
The faerie circle at Logan Square connected with Faerie in
Seelie territory, so Hunter unsheathed his knife when he came
through. The transportation left him dizzy, and he had to take a
moment to regain his equilibrium. When his head cleared, a
brief survey convinced him he was alone, so he resheathed the
knife and started jogging toward the Unseelie border.
He drew up short when he reached his destination. The
border between Seelie and Unseelie was impossible to miss.
On the Seelie side, the ground was carpeted with grass and
ferns, leafy and green and lush. The trees grew straight and
noble, their orderly branches letting the light of the moon filter
to the forest floor.
On the Unseelie side, the ground was covered with driedup
bracken and thorn bushes. The trees twisted as though in
agony, limbs misshapen and bulging with rot like open sores.
The branches wove together overhead, as though the trees
clung to each other for support, creating a near-impenetrable
murk.
Hunter’s heart quailed, the fear he had been so
successfully holding at bay suddenly taking hold and shaking
him by the scruff of the neck. His mind filled with images of
his father, tied to the whipping posts, his back laid open, his
eyes glazed with agony. His own flesh remembered the fierce
bite of the lash, and he saw his mother watching his
punishment with a cruel smile upon her lips.
Kiera. He had to hold her in his mind, his shield against
the fear. He took a deep breath, remembering her sweet face,
remembering the quick smile and sparkling eyes. She had been
willing to risk her life to save him, after he had treated her so
badly she should have hated him. If she could give so much,
then surely he could find the courage to face his fate.
His fear receding once more to the back of his
consciousness, Hunter plunged into the Unseelie forest.
It didn’t take long to encounter the first goblin patrol.
They had come at him out of the shadows, momentarily
thinking him a Seelie spy. For once, he thanked the goblin love
of cruelty, for instead of dispatching him quickly with an
efficient knife-thrust, they knocked him down and bound him,
meaning to “play” with him before killing him. When they
turned him over onto his back and saw his face, they hastened
to untie him.
The goblin patrol groveled at his feet, begging his
forgiveness. Although his mother had no love for him, Hunter
was sure she would inflict a terrible punishment on the goblins
for attacking him. Probably they deserved it. They had meant
to torture him, after all, and had inflicted similar tortures on
other helpless captives. But Hunter didn’t have it in his heart to
subject anyone to the Queen’s discipline. He offered
forgiveness—for which the goblins, while grateful, looked at
him askance. Mercy and forgiveness were unheard of in the
Unseelie Court.
And so Hunter returned to his mother’s hall, surrounded
by an entourage of goblins. He held his back straight and tall,
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his nerves now steady and calm, all his doubts cast aside. He
focused all his energies on his mission, the mission he must not
fail.
As soon as he entered the palace, he dismissed the goblins,
making his way through the obsidian halls to his suite. There
he washed away the evidence of his tussle with the goblins and
changed into his court attire of black leather edged with silver.
His hair he pulled back and secured it with a leather thong.
Then he donned the thin silver circlet that his mother insisted
he wear as a badge of his status.
Garbed now as a true prince of the Unseelie Court, he was
ready to face his final challenge.
Kiera sat cross-legged on her bed, the folded letter in her
shaking hand. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting
like this, trying to work up the courage to unfold the page.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she finally opened the letter
and beheld Hunter’s strangely antique handwriting.
Dearest Kiera,
I would give everything I have and everything I am not to
have caused you the pain I know I’ve caused. No amount of
wishing or remorse can change what I’ve done, but I will do
everything in my power to keep you and our child safe.
I want you know that I don’t blame you for thinking I did
it on purpose. I hope you aren’t giving yourself too much grief
because of it. You had good cause to distrust me, and the man
you first met would have been guilty as sin. But knowing you
has changed me. You have taught me that it is possible to
break away from my upbringing. Strangely, in this time when I
know I am doomed, I have more hope than I’ve ever known
before. You have saved me, and I owe everything I now am to
you.
I wish that I didn’t have to cause you any more pain. But I
have to try my best to keep you and the baby safe from the
Queen’s clutches, and I can’t think of any way to do it other
than to kill her. The memory of the time I’ve spent in your arms
will give me the strength I need to endure.
Take good care of our child. I wish I could be there to see
whether it’s a boy or a girl, and I wish I could be there to be a
father. But I know our child will be very lucky to have you as a
mother.
I love you. I never thought to say those words to anyone,
nor even to truly know what they meant. Thank you for
teaching me that I was wrong.
All my love,
Hunter
By the time Kiera finished reading the letter, her face was
once more drenched with tears. She wanted to launch an
invasion of the Unseelie Court to get Hunter back. She wanted
to go back in time and tell him how wrong she was to assume
his guilt. She wanted desperately to hold him in her arms just
one more time.
But it didn’t matter what she wanted. Hunter was now out
of her reach and there was nothing she could do to save him.
A pair of goblins threw open the massive doors to the
throne room, and Hunter stepped through. When he was
halfway to the throne, he bent in a courtly bow, waiting as
protocol demanded for the Queen to invite him closer. The
silver blade still strapped to his wrist felt cold against his skin.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/141
“Rise, my son,” the Queen commanded, her inflection
making the last word sound like an insult.
Hunter rose as ordered. His mother sat on the ebony
throne, the mink coat she had worn in the mortal world draped
ostentatiously across the back of the chair. Her hair cascaded
over the armrests and pooled on the floor on both sides of her.
Her coldly beautiful face held a hawk’s smile as she looked
him up and down.
At her feet sat Bane, using a wicked-looking knife to
sharpen his claws while pretending to ignore Hunter’s
presence.
“The mortal world has not agreed with you,” the Queen
said. “You have bags under your eyes, and your color is not
good.”
“I’ve had little sleep, being otherwise occupied during the
nights,” Hunter answered, hoping his voice still held the
callous tone that had once come so naturally to him.
The Queen laughed. “I’m so happy to hear that!” she
cried. “I had been led to believe you were not enjoying the
kind of success I had hoped for.”
Bane finally raised his head and bared his teeth at him, but
if he thought the sight of goblin teeth would intimidate Hunter
he was sorely mistaken.
“Perhaps you should have sent a more reliable observer.
As you know, Bane and I are not overfond of one another, and
perhaps it was his pleasure to misrepresent my actions and my
success.”
The Queen reached down and patted Bane’s head as
though he were a dog. He seemed not to mind the insult, his
whole being focused on the glare he directed at Hunter.
“I have always found Bane to be quite reliable,” the Queen
said, “and I am sure he would not wilfully have misled me. But
come, what are you doing back in Faerie? Have you come to
tell me you have succeeded?”
Hunter moved a little closer to the throne. He wasn’t quite
in striking distance yet, but either his mother or Bane was
bound to get suspicious if he stood too close. It was his usual
habit to keep as much distance as possible between them.
“I have succeeded,” he confirmed. “The wench is
pregnant, and I saw no further reason to remain in the mortal
world.”
“But then, where is she?”
Hunter’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”
His mother rose from the throne and descended the dais.
Bane hastily rose as well, following close at her heels, the
wicked knife still unsheathed. Despite his earlier intentions to
get closer to her so he could strike, Hunter had to fight an
instinct to back away as she approached.
The Queen stood taller than he, so he had to look up
slightly to meet her chilling gaze. “If you’ve seeded her with
your child, then where is she? Surely you did not think I
intended her to remain in the mortal world while she is
breeding? Why, anything could happen!”
Hunter’s stomach lurched as he realized just how ugly this
all would have been if he had followed his mother’s orders
from the beginning. Kiera would have been brought to Faerie,
where she would have spent her pregnancy imprisoned. And
when she finally brought the child into the world, she would
have been killed. Fury at what the Queen had almost made him
do coiled in Hunter’s gut. It was all he could manage to keep
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/142
that fury out of his expression, and his heart now drummed so
loud he feared she would hear it.
The Queen was near enough now that he could reach her,
but Bane was standing close by her side, watching Hunter with
studied intensity. The goblin’s reflexes were blindingly quick,
and the expression on his face suggested he suspected an attack
was imminent. He had told Hunter once that Hunter would kill
him; was that time now at hand?
Thinking he might never have a better opportunity, Hunter
flicked his wrist, the hilt of his knife suddenly filling his palm.
He drove forward, the long blade held out before him, aiming
for the Queen’s heart.
But as he’d feared, Bane was ready for the attack. It was a
close thing, even so. Hunter’s blade managed to nick the
Queen’s ivory skin before Bane’s head plowed into his
abdomen. The blow forced all the air out of Hunter’s lungs and
he fell heavily backward onto the cold stone floor. He fought
his body’s instinct to curl up around the pain in his gut, trying
to scramble to his feet, but Bane’s body slammed into his again
and he went down. Bane landed on top of him and shoved a
knee right under his ribs. Hunter’s vision swam and he might
have blacked out for a moment. The next thing he knew, his
hand, still clutching the knife, was slammed brutally into the
flagstones, and his fingers loosened their grip.
Bane had his own knife in hand and positioned the blade
over Hunter’s right eye. The threat stilled his struggles, and
Bane laughed.
“Fond of your eye, are you Boyo?” he asked. “Maybe Her
Majesty doesn’t share your fondness?” He looked up at the
Queen hopefully.
She stood by Hunter’s head, looking down at him with no
particular expression on her face, though her fingers toyed with
the spot of blood on her breast. “I would not see his pretty face
marred,” she said. “You may let him up, but keep a firm hand
on him.”
Bane shoved the knife into a sheath at his waist, then
hauled Hunter to his feet, holding him by the wrist and then
forcing that wrist up high behind his back. Hunter gritted his
teeth and refused to make a sound as the Queen approached
and put her hand against his cheek. The throne room was
quickly filling with goblins.
“I’m afraid you have too much of your father in you,
Hunter,” she said. “I thought when I disposed of him that I had
purged you of his influence. It seems I was mistaken. You will
follow in his footsteps, my dear boy. Bane has often confided
in me his desire to hear you scream. I have long denied him the
opportunity, for I didn’t want you broken. But now your
mission is complete and your time is almost through. You will
break before you die.”
She removed her hand from his cheek and stepped back.
“Take him to the whipping posts and strip him,” she ordered
her goblins. She turned her attention to Bane. “Give him one
full hour to anticipate what is to come. Then you may begin.”
Chapter 17
Kiera woke with the sun in her eyes. She groaned and
turned away from the light that shone in through the slightly
parted curtains. Her head ached, and she felt as though a great
weight were sitting on her chest. She searched once more for
the oblivion of sleep, but it remained out of reach and she
couldn’t stop reality from creeping into her consciousness.
Slowly, she sat up, rubbing her bleary eyes.
It didn’t seem like the things that had happened to her
could possibly be real. She couldn’t possibly be pregnant! She
couldn’t possibly be trapped inside her mother’s house. And,
most of all, Hunter couldn’t possibly be sacrificing his life to
try to save her.
She huffed out a loud breath. Denying reality wasn’t going
to make it go away. She threw on a bathrobe and headed
downstairs to get a cup of coffee and regroup.
The tableau that met her eyes when she reached the base
of the stairs stopped her in her tracks.
Her mother and Seamus were sitting at the small kitchen
table. Plates bearing the remainders of their breakfast had been
pushed out of the way. Seamus leaned an elbow on the table,
his chin resting on his hand as her mother smiled at him. He
was holding her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in
what could only be a lover’s caress.
Kiera cleared her throat and they jumped guiltily apart.
Her mother actually blushed, and Kiera would have laughed if
her heart weren’t so heavy. Seamus turned in his chair to face
her more fully. His hair was tousled from sleep and hung loose
around his face. His eyes searched her face.
“Don’t worry,” she assured him, “I’m not going to faint or
scream or anything.”
“Sit down,” her mother said with exaggerated cheer, “I’ll
get you some breakfast.” She pushed away from the table and
practically fled to the far side of the kitchen, where she started
a new batch of eggs as if she were in a race for her life.
Kiera pulled out a chair and sat. Seamus was looking
toward her mother with an expression of fond amusement.
“So,” Kiera asked him, “how long has this been going
on?”
He turned his attention to her. “Not long.”
She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. She
supposed he wasn’t the type to kiss and tell. She narrowed her
eyes at him. “If you hurt my mom, I will kick your ass, even if
I have to hunt you down in Faerie to do it.”
He smiled. “Fair enough, child,” he said, putting a slight
emphasis on the last word. Kiera wondered if she was
supposed to feel insulted.
In short order, her mother laid a plate of bacon and eggs
before her. Kiera murmured her thanks and took a sip from the
accompanying glass of orange juice as her mother retook her
seat.
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They certainly made an odd-looking couple. Kiera’s mom
had always looked about five years younger than she was, but
she still looked old enough to be Seamus’s mother. Wanting to
return the needle he’d earlier given her, she looked at Seamus
and frowned.
“Aren’t you a little young for her?” she asked, jerking her
chin in her mother’s direction.
Seamus laughed. “Looks can be deceiving. I am far older
than your mother, Kiera.”
The thought occurred to her that she had never asked
Hunter how old he was. He could easily be older even than
Seamus, and yet he looked like he was Kiera’s age or younger.
Her heart sank, and her face must have fallen as well, for
Seamus reached over and gave her shoulder a reassuring
squeeze. She didn’t know what he meant to reassure her of.
“Do you suppose he’s still alive?” she asked as a frog took
up residence in her throat.
“I don’t know,” Seamus said softly.
Tears blurred her vision. “He probably is. They won’t kill
him quickly.” The last came out a sob, and soon both Seamus
and her mother were huddled close to her, murmuring soothing
words that couldn’t possibly ease her pain.
She reined in the tears with difficulty. Without doubt, this
was not the last time she’d fall apart, but it did no one any
good and she was determined not to make more of a scene than
necessary. A box of tissues appeared on the table as if by
magic and she realized Seamus had fetched them without her
even noticing he’d left the table.
“Thanks,” she managed to choke out. She grabbed a
handful of tissues, wiping her tears away and blowing her
nose.
The doorbell rang, and all three of them jumped. Kiera
looked from her mother’s face to Seamus’s and saw grimness
in both their features.
“Now it begins,” Seamus muttered as he headed toward
the door.
“Now what begins?” she asked her mother in an urgent
whisper.
“The siege. I’m afraid we’re going to be trapped in this
house for a long time. Come on, let’s see what tactics they’re
going to use to try to flush you out.”
Kiera followed her mother to the window that looked out
at the front of the house. Seamus was stationed at the door,
peering out the peephole.
“I count five goblins,” he hissed.
Kiera looked out the window and saw nothing more than a
group of winos in ragged clothes. Four of them were sitting
across the street, backs to the wall of the house across the way,
passing a bottle back and forth amongst them. The fifth stood
on the doorstep.
She raised an eyebrow at her mother. “Glamour, I
suppose?”
Her mom nodded as the goblin at the door rang the bell
about fifteen times in a row then banged with his fist for good
measure.
“Come on, open up,” he growled. “We know you’re in
there.”
“You are truly a paragon of intellect,” Seamus said, still
not opening the door.
“You want to open the door and try insulting me again?”
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“Not particularly.”
“Hand over the little lady and no one else has to get hurt.”
Seamus snorted. “Your offer has little to recommend it.”
“There’s only so long you can hide in your hole before
you’ll all starve to death. Why don’t you just end it now, nice
and peaceful-like?”
“Perhaps I can avoid starvation by feeding on goblin flesh.
It is considered a delicacy among my kind.” Although Seamus
was in his human form, the words came out as a vicious snarl
that sent a chill down Kiera’s spine. Unfortunately, it didn’t
seem to have the same effect on the goblin.
“Phooka flesh is best eaten fresh from the bone. It’ll be
interesting to see how much we can eat before you die.”
Kiera shuddered and huddled closer to her mother. Seamus
turned toward them, his face showing he was not particularly
intimidated by the threat. His calm eased Kiera’s anxieties
some. He moved away from the door without answering the
goblin’s latest challenge.
“No point in talking to them,” he said as he gestured the
women back toward the dining room. “They’ll just bluster and
threaten.”
Kiera looked back over her shoulder. “So are they going to
park outside our door forever?”
“I’d say for the foreseeable future, yes.”
She resumed her seat at the table. She’d eaten almost
nothing, but she couldn’t move herself to eat the cold remains
on her plate. “Could we call the police on them?”
“We could. The police might even be able to get the
goblins to move on for a bit, if the goblins don’t feel like
fighting it. But they’d just come back. And if the goblins got
testy, we might find ourselves responsible for some dead
policemen.”
Kiera lowered her head into her hands. “Then we have no
chance? They’re going to starve us out?”
“Let’s take it one day at a time, honey,” her mother said.
The goblin started leaning on the doorbell again before
Kiera had a chance to answer. Seamus showed no inclination
to go to the door. The goblin was not discouraged, keeping up
a continuous ring.
“May I disable the doorbell?” Seamus asked.
“Please do!” her mother agreed.
Seamus slipped away from the table. For a few more
minutes, the ringing continued. Then, it abruptly ceased. Kiera
smiled at the beautiful silence, until Seamus returned to the
dining room and she saw the grim set of his face.
“What is it?” she cried.
He sat on a chair beside her, turning it to face her square
on. “Hunter failed.” Kiera gasped in pain and shut her eyes
tight to keep from crying yet again. “The goblins claim that if
you give yourself up, they’ll let Hunter go. Supposedly, they’ll
take you to Faerie until you give birth, then they’ll let both you
and Hunter go and keep the child. It’s a patent lie, of course.
One cannot make bargains with the Unseelie.”
Kiera nodded numbly. Even if she had reason to believe
the Unseelie would keep their end of the bargain, she knew she
couldn’t take it. She could not sacrifice a helpless child to the
Unseelie Court. Reflexively, she put a hand on her belly. It still
didn’t feel real—it was almost impossible to believe that
Hunter’s child was growing inside her. And yet the goblins
outside the door were further proof.
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Whatever it took, she had to keep the baby out of their
clutches. Even if it meant . . .
An idea suddenly popped into her head. Probably a foolish
one, with no chance of success. And even if it succeeded, that
success would be short-lived.
But in the face of hopelessness, even a small success was
worth pursuing.
Hunter had retreated deep inside himself. For the first
fifteen minutes or so that he’d been tied to the whipping posts,
Bane’s cruel goading had distracted him. Eventually, Hunter
had figured out how to tune him out and had ceased to hear the
words until the goblin’s voice became nothing but a muffled
buzzing sound.
In his near-trance, Hunter had no sense of time passing,
didn’t know how long he had before his torment was slated to
begin. He knew from bitter experience that he would snap back
into full consciousness at the first bite of the whip, but for the
time being he savored the peace. When the pain got too much
to bear, he would find his way back to this trance state and
escape, at least for a while.
An explosive crack and a fiery trail of pain across his
shoulder blades snapped Hunter back to the real world. It had
begun.
He clamped his jaw tightly, grinding his teeth until his
face ached with it as lash after lash bit into his back. He tried
to will himself back into the trance, but it was no use. He could
only put himself in that peaceful place when there was no pain,
or too much pain. He almost welcomed the continued lashes, in
hopes that they would help him find his way to oblivion.
He thought he might almost be there when the blows
suddenly stopped coming. He cursed foully as his back burned
and his breath came in short gasps. Bane circled the posts until
he stood in front of Hunter. Hunter saw spots of his own blood
on Bane’s body. The goblin was grinning in sadistic pleasure.
“Can’t be letting you slip away like you’ve been known to
do, can I?” Bane said.
Hunter’s mouth was almost completely dry, but he
gathered what moisture he could and spit weakly at the goblin.
He missed.
Bane crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Hunter
with cocked head. “Quite a puzzle,” he said, tapping his chin
thoughtfully. “Looks for all the world like your time is almost
through. And yet, I know you’re going to kill me.” He shook
his head and sniffed. “Doesn’t seem quite possible.”
Hunter wondered if the goblin was trying to further torture
him with false hope. And yet, Bane had made the same
outlandish claim long before Hunter condemned himself.
Hunter rattled the chains that held him to the whipping
posts. “Let me loose,” he rasped, “and I’ll get on with it.”
Bane laughed. “Don’t get me wrong, Boyo. I’m not eager
to face my doom. Not that you’d match up so well against me
right now anyway. Your knees must be feeling a little weak,
no?”
Hunter wondered what the chances were of goading Bane
into setting him free for a fight. He decided the chances were
nil as long as the goblin was convinced Hunter would kill him
somehow.
Bane came closer and gave Hunter a shove in the chest.
Hunter staggered, but managed to keep his legs under him.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/147
Bane made a disapproving noise.
“Still pretty steady, aren’t you? Let’s see if we can weaken
those knees a bit.”
Hunter made a vain attempt to kick the goblin, but of
course Bane was ready for it and dodged easily.
The lashes resumed, starting at his already-raw shoulders
and inching down his back. He held on to his sanity with
desperate strength, for if he let himself go he would start
screaming. He refused to give Bane that satisfaction.
He had just enough rational thought left in him to realize
that Bane had stopped the whipping when Hunter had started to
slide into oblivion. He would surely do it again.
Urging himself to patience, Hunter slowly let himself sag,
though much of his strength still remained. He bent his knees,
letting the manacles support his weight as he lowered his chin
to his chest.
Unbelievably, the lashes ceased. Hunter had to fight
against a surge of adrenaline. He mustn’t let the illusion slip.
In the end, the ruse would not save his life, and would save
him only a fraction of the pain he was destined to suffer. But it
was the only hint of reprieve he would have, and he embraced
it.
Her mother was pale as death, and Seamus looked as
though he’d been turned to stone.
Kiera sat up straighter and met their shocked stares with a
calm she would not have thought she could muster. “The
Unseelie Court wants this child more than anything,” Kiera
said, laying a hand on her belly. “If they have to give me
Hunter in exchange, they’ll do it.” And, she suspected, they’d
do it even if they didn’t believe she’d hold up her end of the
bargain.
For a long, tense moment, silence reigned. Seamus
recovered from the shock first, shaking his head violently.
“You would gain nothing by such a plan,” he said.
“Not true,” she argued. “I would gain time.”
He curled his lips in disdain. “Time will do us no good.”
She ignored him, turning instead to her mother. “I can’t
just let Hunter suffer without trying to help,” she said, a
pleading edge in her voice. “If they think they can trade Hunter
for the child, then they’ll have to keep him alive. Maybe it will
only delay the inevitable. But the attempt would be worth
something, at least to me. Besides, if they don’t go for it,
there’s no harm done.”
“Oh, there you’re wrong, I can assure you,” Seamus
interrupted. “They’ll take you up on your offer, all right. And
they’ll turn Hunter into a Trojan horse.”
“Seamus—” she tried, but he spoke loudly over her
objections.
“You’d have to lift the wards over the doorway to let
Hunter in. You think he’d be the only Unseelie creature to
enter?”
“Why don’t you turn into a dog and shut up!” she snapped.
Her mother held out a placating hand to each of them. “All
right,” she said quietly, “let’s just stay calm and talk this over
rationally.”
Seamus turned his glare to her. “Your daughter is going to
risk everything on a futile venture that could very well get you
and me killed right along with her.”
“Your damned guard dog is sticking his nose in where it
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doesn’t belong!” Kiera retorted.
Her mother rubbed her face wearily. “How did I become
the referee?”
Seamus sniffed. “You volunteered.”
She sighed. “Do you really think they’d fall for it?” she
asked him.
“No. But they’d pretend to fall for it in hopes of getting us
to move the wards away from the door.”
“Listen,” Kiera said, “the situation is desperate however
we cut it. We’re trapped in this house. Even if we keep holding
them off and manage not to starve to death, what will that gain
us? Are we to stay here forever? And when I have the baby, is
it supposed to live its entire life trapped in this house?”
“I don’t see how promising to give them the baby if they
bring Hunter to you is going to improve the situation any,”
Seamus growled. “Even if we held the door against them, you
would merely add a fourth occupant to help diminish our food
supply.”
Her temper far past the breaking point, Kiera shot to her
feet and did her best to tower over him, though his fey dignity
made him seem taller than he was. “Why don’t you just go
back to Faerie and save yourself, then? It’s not you the goblins
want. You can just wash your hands of us and be done with it.
Chalk it up to mortal stupidity!”
Seamus rose from the sofa, his eyes blazing. When he
reached his full height, the aura of strength and anger that
surrounded him caused her to take an involuntary step
backward. “I’ll chalk it up to mortal stupidity that you think
somehow my concerns are centered upon my own well-being.”
If he’d looked any angrier, sparks would have flown off
him. Kiera’s mother approached him warily, reaching for his
shoulder. “Seamus . . .”
His posture still rigid, he turned to face her, and Kiera let
out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“If Kiera is dead set on doing this, then there’s nothing we
can do to stop her,” she said, her voice low and soothing.
“I can think of any number of ways,” he countered.
“None that I’d let you get away with!”
“Do you think you could stop me?”
Kiera remembered how fondly they’d been looking at each
other this morning when she’d come down for breakfast, and
she experienced a twinge of guilt. Her mother’s face was
flushed with anger, and Seamus was leaning into her like a
bully, fists clenched at his sides.
“Don’t do this, okay?” Kiera begged, her own anger
melting as she realized the strife she was causing. “Maybe we
can set up some kind of secondary barrier around the doorway.
Mom could ward that barrier and you two could stay behind it.
That way if the goblins do breech the doorway Hunter and I
will be the only ones at risk.”
“And the child,” her mother reminded her.
Kiera raised her chin. “We’re all at terrible risk anyway.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to invite it in!” Seamus
snapped. The air around him was shimmering, as if he were on
the verge of changing into his dog form. Kiera had a feeling
that if he did, he might very well bite someone. Her, to be
more precise.
“Please try to understand. I can’t just hide in here and do
nothing. Not while I know they’re torturing the man I love.”
Her voice choked and she swallowed a sob.
Jenna Black/Embraced in Darkness/149
Seamus’s anger seemed to have dulled to a brooding
simmer. “He may be dead already.”
Kiera winced. “If that’s so, then all of this arguing is
pointless.” She waited to see if Seamus was going to raise
another objection, but he stayed quiet. Then she turned to her
mom. “Can you create a ward behind the doorway?”
Her mom shook her head. “Not necessary, sweetheart.
You’ll need all the help you can get keeping them out.”
“I don’t want you risking yourself. Or Seamus, for that
matter!”
But her mom’s expression was implacable. “If we’re going
to do this, we’re going to do it together. Period.”
Reluctantly, Kiera conceded. She forced a nervous laugh.
“I guess I’d better brush up on my acting skills.”
“You won’t need them,” Seamus said sourly. “They’ll
jump at the opportunity no matter what you say.”
She took a deep, steadying breath. “Well, then. Let’s get
on with it.” Heart pounding, she strode toward the door to
deliver her ultimatum.
Chapter 18
Hunter had no idea how long he’d been tied to the whipping
posts when he heard his mother’s voice drifting to his ears. He
was hanging limply from the manacles, his shoulders screaming
in protest at having to support his weight. But the pain in his
shoulders was bearable compared to the pain of the lash. Bane
seemed to be taken in by the charade and frequently stopped the
lashes in an effort to “revive” him.
His mother’s voice was coming closer and now he could hear
her words as she spoke to the goblin.
“I’m impressed by your abilities,” she said. “I would not
have thought you could break him so quickly.
“He’s still not fully broken,” Bane answered. “I haven’t been
able to persuade him to sing for me yet.”
She sighed with evident regret. “I’m afraid I’m going to have
to deny you that pleasure for the time being. Finvarra’s bastard
has barricaded herself into her mother’s house. She promises to
give us the child if we let Hunter go.” Bane made an ugly
snorting sound, and the Queen laughed. “Yes, of course it is a
bluff. How she thinks she will manage to get Hunter safely into
her house without being taken herself, I don’t know. But I’ve a
mind to humor her. The reunion should be quite . . . touching.”
Hunter’s sagging spirit revived a little. What was Kiera up
to? Ice-cold fingers touched one of the open welts on his back
and he had to fight the urge to shudder away from that touch.
“Your lady love isn’t terribly bright, is she my son? After all,
she will have to open her door and remove the wardings to let
you in.”
He made no reaction whatsoever to her words or her touch,
hanging limply, his head lolling to his chest, his eyes half-closed.
The Queen clucked her tongue.
“You disappoint me,” she told him. “I thought you had more
fortitude than this. At this rate, you will barely outlast your dear
father, and he was nothing but a mortal.”
The chains holding him up suddenly released. His reflexes
urged him to stiffen his knees and support his weight, but he
fought them and allowed himself to flop to the cold, bloodslicked
flagstones below him. He moaned softly and stirred, as if
barely clinging to consciousness.
“Well, we cannot show up on the little lady’s doorstep with
this pathetic specimen,” the Queen said. “Chain his wrists and
ankles, and we’ll see if we can get him onto his feet.”
Hunter’s heart was beating steadily faster and it was
becoming harder to fake his broken state. The Queen was entirely
taken in by the act as, apparently, was Bane. The goblin, his
clawed hands shielded by heavy leather gloves, fastened shackles
onto Hunter’s wrists and ankles. Hunter smelled a hint of iron in
the air, and the shackles burned on his skin. Not as fiercely as
pure iron might, but there was at least a trace of that hated metal
in these chains. Through his half-closed eyes, he could see Bane
wincing and baring his teeth, the gloves having only partially
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protected him from the touch.
A short length of chain lay between those shackles—enough
chain to serve Hunter well if he could just keep his excitement
and hope under control.
“This will sting, my son,” the Queen said, her voice full of
laughter.
Moments later, something splashed onto the wounds on his
back. Every welt flamed back to life at once, the pain blinding
him. It was all he could do not to scream, for it felt like she had
poured acid on those open wounds. He was dimly aware of
Bane’s chuckling, and he used his fury at the creature’s sadism to
help keep himself under control.
Eventually, the pain started to fade. Hunter breathed deeply,
his body now closer to real exhaustion. But he still had some
strength in him. It would have to be enough.
A clawed hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him over
onto his back. He fluttered his eyelids open and saw the Queen’s
face hovering over him, a cruel smile on her blood-red lips. She
bent so that her hair trailed over the naked flesh of his chest. His
skin twitched as though trying to escape even that much contact
with her. Not far behind her, Bane was leaning against one of the
whipping posts, his arms and ankles crossed in a posture of smug
confidence.
“I can’t believe I coddled such a mewling weakling for so
long,” the Queen sneered, though her eyes gave every indication
she was pleased with the situation. “It appears I will have to
prepare a potion just to get you onto your feet.”
She started to rise, and he leapt into action.
Hunter launched himself upward, swinging his arms over the
Queen’s head. She gave a cry of surprise, then fell forward onto
him when the chain between his wrists hit the back of her neck.
At first, she was too startled to put up an effective resistance;
then, it was too late.
Hunter spun her onto her back, wrapping the chain around
her throat and stilling her kicking legs by trapping them with his
own. He pulled hard on the chain and heard her breath coming in
gasps, then not coming at all. Her hands clawed at his, but though
her nails scoured his fingers, he did not loosen his grip. Bane was
trying to get at him, but he kept turning and putting the Queen’s
body between them.
She was weakening. Her fingers fell away from his hands,
and her body slumped. Still, Hunter did not let up. What a fool he
would feel if he fell for the same trick he himself had employed.
Bane had stopped trying to get at him, was now just standing
there and staring. He shook his head. “You can let go now, Boyo.
She’s dead.”
Hunter held on desperately, trying to feel for her heartbeat,
but his own heart was thundering too hard. He didn’t dare let go
until he was absolutely sure.
Bane unsheathed his knife. Hunter made sure to keep the
Queen’s body between them as the goblin approached. But Bane
for once wasn’t coming after him. The goblin stuck the point of
his knife into the Queen’s foot. She did not move.
“See?” the goblin said. “She’s dead. Now let go.”
His body quivering with belated reaction, Hunter loosened
his grip and allowed her body to slide off of him and onto the
ground. She showed no hint of life, her eyes open and staring, her
thin neck circled with welts and burns. Hunter looked up,
expecting to see Bane’s knife coming his direction. Instead, the
goblin resheathed it and pulled a ring of keys from his belt.
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Hunter thought perhaps he had slipped into a dream. Bane
gingerly unlocked the shackles at his feet, then handed him a pair
of pants. Hunter hadn’t even noticed the pile of clothing that the
Queen had brought to dress him in. Keeping a wary and very
puzzled eye on the goblin, he pulled them on. Bane showed no
inclination to remove the shackles from Hunter’s wrists.
“Hurry up,” Bane grunted, grabbing hold of Hunter’s arm
and tugging the moment his zipper was up.
Hunter stumbled and almost fell, for his hands were still
shackled. Bane continued to drag him along. Hunter got his feet
back under him, and Bane broke into a jog. Hunter matched his
pace, and Bane let go of his arm.
“What the hell are you doing?” Hunter asked, shaking his
head to try to clear the fog.
“Getting the hell out of here, what do you think?”
Hunter followed him into a tunnel that led under the palace.
Behind them in the courtyard, a cry of alarm split the air.
“Damn!” Bane cried, grabbing Hunter’s arm again. “Hurry,
you worthless piece of shit!”
The jog turned into an all-out run. When Hunter tried to slow
the pace, the goblin dug his claws into his arm. Deciding he
would try to make sense out of this later, Hunter followed. The
cries behind them multiplied, and an alarm bell started clanging.
Bane cursed, but kept running, leading Hunter through tunnels
and passages he never knew existed. Once, they almost rushed
headlong into a goblin patrol, but Bane pulled up just in time.
They pressed themselves into a pool of shadow as the patrol
hurried down the hall, undoubtedly mustered to capture the
Queen’s murderer.
Eventually, they emerged from the palace and plunged into
the Unseelie forest. The thick brambles and thorns forced them
to slow down.
Hunter followed without protest for the better part of an
hour, thorns shredding his bare feet. They had to be nearing the
Seelie border by now, and still Bane showed no sign of letting
up. Hunter came to an abrupt halt. Bane continued on for a
couple of steps before he realized Hunter had failed to follow.
“Okay,” Hunter said, “I think it’s time you explain yourself.”
The goblin paused in his headlong flight and took a few steps
closer, his lips turned into a familiar sneer. “You really are a
moron, Prince.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who fell for the ‘I’m too weak to be
any danger’ ruse.”
“Exactly.”
“Huh?”
“See if you can work this out: I guard the Queen. You killed
the Queen. I was supposed to be guarding her when you killed
her. Therefore . . .”
When he put it that way, Hunter couldn’t help but
understand. “Therefore you’re headed for execution.”
Bane clapped, his lips still curled away from his teeth. “Give
the boy a gold star.”
“And you’re helping me escape why?”
“Let’s get over the border, and then we can continue this
discussion, eh Boyo? Too risky to stand still here.” He turned his
back without awaiting an answer, plunging on through the
underbrush.
Hunter was beginning to put things together himself, but he
followed along in silence. About fifteen minutes later, they broke
through the thick Unseelie forest into Seelie territory. Bane
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continued to run until they’d put a healthy distance between
themselves and the border, stopping finally in a small clearing
bathed in moonlight.
Hunter was winded and still weak from the torture. His
lacerated feet throbbed with every step. When Bane came to a
stop, Hunter bent over and put his hands on his knees, sides
heaving. The goblin did not give him much time to recover his
breath, however.
Hunter straightened when Bane drew his knife.
“Let’s have it out, shall we Prince?” the goblin said.
“Let’s see: you have a big knife. I’m unarmed. You’re fresh
and strong. I’m weakened by torture. And, oh yes, my hands are
shackled together! With iron shackles, even. I guess this means
you’re too much of a coward to risk a fair fight.”
Bane laughed, though there was a bitter edge to that laughter.
“If the Queen’s forces find me—and I have no doubt she’ll send
them hunting for me as soon as she’s corporeal again—I will die
in far more pain than you just suffered. But, see, I know that’s
not how I’m destined to die. So I figure this unfair advantage of
mine ain’t gonna do me any good in the end.”
Hunter stared at the goblin. Damned if, despite his long
association with them, he still didn’t understand these Unseelie
creatures. “So because you think it’s your fate to die by my hand,
you helped me escape the Unseelie Court when you could have
just saved your own hide, and now you’re going to fight me when
you could just walk away. Ever heard of a self-fulfilling
prophecy?”
Bane shook his head. “You don’t get it, but by now that
shouldn’t surprise me. Let me explain in little bitty words so you
can understand. If I walk away, they’ll catch me eventually. They
catch me, I die and it’s ugly. So instead, I bring you with me. We
fight, I die quick. Get it?”
Hunter snorted. “You could do it yourself, you know. That’s
what I was going to do, before Kiera gave me reason to do
otherwise.”
“Not as satisfying as finally being able to fight you without
the Queen’s damned muzzle. Besides, there’s always the chance
I might take you with me. Now enough talk.”
The goblin charged.
Hunter barely managed to deflect Bane’s blade with the
chain between his hands. Sparks flew, lighting the night. Bane
growled deep in his throat and tried another thrust. Hunter
dodged, wishing he had his own knife. He could only defend for
so long before he would have to find some kind of effective
attack. He backed away, crouched and ready for action. Bane
followed, feinting.
“Now who’s the coward?” the goblin taunted as Hunter
continued to back up.
Hunter didn’t answer, his eyes fixed on the blade, waiting for
Bane to make another charge. He didn’t have long to wait. He
met the knife with his chained hands once more, twisting the
chain around the blade and yanking hard while snapping a kick
at Bane’s mid-section. Goblins were not as weak around the
middle as humans, but Bane nevertheless tried to avoid the kick.
The distraction cost him his knife. Hunter would have liked to
grab it himself, but as he tried to unwrap the chain, the knife fell
to the ground—narrowly missing his foot. Then Bane slammed
into him and Hunter went down hard.
Claws dug deeply into his shoulders, and Bane’s foul breath
washed over his face. The goblin bared his formidable fangs, and
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Hunter barely got his hands up in time to stop those fangs from
tearing out his throat. It took most of his strength to hold the
goblin at bay. He considered letting go and catching Bane’s neck
in the chain, but the goblin’s throat would not be as fragile as the
Queen’s and Hunter doubted he’d have the strength to strangle
him. He shuddered in revulsion as drool dripped onto his face.
Bane was putting all his strength into the effort to bite, and
Hunter’s arms were weakening. Hunter gathered his remaining
strength to roll them over. Bane lost the advantage of leverage,
but his claws still dug into Hunter’s shoulders, and Hunter still
had no effective way to attack. Bane grinned fiercely at him then
raked his claws through his upper arms.
Pinning the goblin would do Hunter no good, so he sprang
to his feet and swiftly backpedaled. His foot hit a rock and,
cursing, he fell once more. He rolled sharply to the side to avoid
the goblin’s pounce. When the roll came to a stop, Hunter put his
hand down to push himself to his feet.
His hand came down on the hilt of Bane’s knife. His fingers
curled around it even as a strange chill passed over him. He’d put
no stock in Bane’s supposed premonition, but the knife certainly
gave him an advantage. But truly Bane couldn’t know what was
going to happen. That would suggest that neither Bane nor
Hunter had any free will in the matter, and that was not
something Hunter was prepared to accept.
Hunter brandished the knife as Bane crouched for another
spring. Bane snarled loudly, flexing his claws.
“Let’s see if I can give you something to remember me by,”
he said, then charged again, claws extended.
Hunter jabbed with the knife as Bane’s claws slashed across
his forearm, leaving deep furrows. The knife sank into the
goblin’s mid-section, and he howled. Hunter jerked the knife out
and moved away, crouched and ready in case Bane should come
at him again. But the goblin had fallen to his knees and now
clutched his belly. Hunter could see blood gushing from the
wound. Bane tried to stand up again, launching himself in
Hunter’s direction. Hunter stepped back, and Bane collapsed
before he’d crossed even half the distance between them.
Hunter bent and wiped the blade against a patch of grass,
cleaning the goblin blood off as best he could. His shoulders and
forearm burned and stung from the deep scratches, but after all
the pain he’d suffered, these wounds were barely an annoyance.
Turning his back on Bane, he got his bearings and headed off
toward the faerie circle that would take him back to the mortal
world.
“No!” Bane yelled. “Wait!”
Hunter turned and saw the goblin, still clutching his oozing
belly, trying to crawl after him. When he saw he had Hunter’s
attention, Bane collapsed back into the grass, his ribs heaving
with his effort.
“They can heal this,” Bane said. “If they catch me. You’ve
got to finish what you started.”
Hunter stared at the goblin incredulously. “Oh do I? It seems
to me I can do whatever I please. And it pleases me to walk
away.” To hell with his supposed destiny! Almost as long as he
could remember, he’d wanted to kill Bane. Now that the chance
presented itself, he didn’t have it in him to kill him in cold blood.
In anger, he could have done it. But not like this. Once more he
turned his back.
“You can’t leave me like this!”
Hunter told himself to keep walking, but almost against his
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will he came to a stop.
“You know what they’ll do to me if they catch me alive,” the
goblin said. “I know you hate me, but you wouldn’t condemn me
to that fate. So kill me. You’ve wanted to ever since I did your
dear daddy, so just go ahead and do it.”
Hunter approached his wounded nemesis, a war raging
within him. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and bleed to death before
they find you.”
“No. You’ll kill me. I told you, I know how it ends.”
Hunter snorted. “Hate to tell you this, but you’re wrong.”
Bane shook his head. He was grimacing in pain, but Hunter
told himself he had no pity in his heart for this creature’s pain,
not when he’d caused so much pain to so many himself.
“You don’t understand, Hunter.” Hunter actually started at
hearing his name in Bane’s voice. “We’re Unseelie, you and me.
We don’t get a choice in this shit. We just follow our scripts.”
“No!” Hunter snapped. “I believe in free will. There’s no
such thing as fate.”
“There is if you’re Unseelie.”
Unbidden to his mind came Kiera’s dear voice, suggesting
that maybe he wasn’t really Unseelie after all. He’d dismissed the
idea at the time. Now, he wasn’t so sure. “Maybe that’s true. But
I’m not Unseelie.” He let the knife drop.
For the first time, he saw a flicker of genuine worry in
Bane’s eyes. “What could be more Unseelie than condemning
someone to death by torture?”
“Nice try. But you richly deserve it.”
Bane’s eyes closed and he lay still, one clawed hand digging
into the grass while the other lay clapped over the wound. Hunter
couldn’t help noticing that the bleeding seemed to have slowed.
He told himself to get the hell out of here. He remembered the
pain he’d suffered at Bane’s hands, remembered how much the
goblin had gloated and enjoyed it. He held in his mind the image
of his father’s anguished face as lash after lash fell. If ever a
creature deserved to die painfully more than Bane, Hunter had
never heard of him.
He forced a step backward, then another. Bane opened his
eyes and stared at him. The goblin offered no further persuasion,
save for that stare.
Damn it! Hunter was not Unseelie! He had free will, could
do whatever he wanted. All he had to do to prove that to himself
was walk away.
Hunter swallowed hard, feeling something akin to panic.
What would Kiera say if he told her he’d allowed his nemesis to
be slowly tortured to death? Would she be impressed with this
proof that he was not Unseelie?
The answer was obvious.
Hunter uttered a series of curses as he bent to retrieve the
knife. Bane let out a loud sigh of relief. Hunter halted just out of
reach.
“What guarantee do I have that you’re not going to attack
me? Looks like the bleeding’s slowing down. You probably have
more strength than you’re letting on.”
Bane shrugged and struggled up into a sitting position,
grimacing in pain. “I won’t attack you, Prince. I’m ready to go.
But if you want assurances . . .” He reached into his pocket and
pulled out a set of keys, tossing them at Hunter’s feet. “Take the
manacles off and give them to me. I’ll put them on if it’ll make
you get on with it.”
Hunter bent to pick up the keys. He unlocked the manacles,
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gratefully letting them drop to the ground at his feet, then turned
to the goblin.
“Tell you what, Bane,” he said, “I’ll just leave this knife of
yours right here.” He jammed the blade into the ground. “What
you do with it after I’m gone is no business of mine.”
Bane looked almost comically perplexed, but uttered no
argument as Hunter walked away.
Hunter managed to walk maybe two or three hundred yards
before five Daoine Sidhe warriors stepped out from behind the
trees aiming silver-tipped arrows at his heart.
Chapter 19
Kiera glanced at her watch for about the hundredth time. It
was nearing the deadline she had set for Hunter’s safe return,
and there’d been no sign of him yet. Maybe Seamus’s assertion
that the Unseelie forces could not resist this bargain had been
wrong. She ground her teeth and ordered herself not to give up
hope.
She had spent the first hour or two of her wait parked in
front of the window, watching the goblins who guarded the
house. One of them had trotted off to take her offer to the
Queen, but the four who remained looked formidable enough.
Seamus finally persuaded her to leave her post, and he and her
mother tried to keep her from brooding. They met with only
limited success.
Now, almost twenty-four hours later, Kiera sat alone in the
upstairs den, a cup of tea clutched in her hands as she stared
out the window once more. The full moon had risen just after
sunset and hung low over the city. The moonlight had ill
effects on the goblins’ glamour, and every once in a while
when Kiera looked at them she’d catch a glimpse of fangs and
claws and gray skin. Once more she glanced at her watch, her
eyes filming with tears as hope slowly died.
A soft knock at the door behind her snapped her out of the
gloom and she turned to see her mom standing in the doorway,
her face full of gentle sadness.
“It was worth a try, huh Mom?” Kiera asked, glad that her
voice came out steadier than she felt.
Her mom came to stand behind her chair, putting her
hands on Kiera’s shoulders. “You did everything you could,
dear. There are just some things in the world you have no
control over. This is one of them. But we’re not going to give
up. While there’s life, there’s hope.”
Kiera closed her eyes. Did Hunter still have life? Seamus
had been so sure the goblins would give in to her demands . . .
But if Hunter were already dead, then they couldn’t, even if
they wanted to. Her heart felt like a lump of coal in her chest.
Out of the corner of her eye, Kiera caught sight of a group
of men on the street below. Three of them, walking casually
down the sidewalk. She didn’t know what it was about them
that caught her eye, but once she’d turned to look at them, she
found it hard to drag her eyes away.
“Uh-oh,” her mother whispered.
“What?” Kiera asked, still watching the three men. The
group of goblins had mustered and were moving swiftly away
from the house and the approaching men.
“Those are Daoine Sidhe. Your father must have gotten
word of the situation.”
Kiera sighed. “I don’t see how things can get any worse.”
Her mom groaned. “Oh, please don’t say that.”
Someone banged loudly on the front door.
“Let’s go see what they want,” Kiera said.
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“I don’t want to know,” her mom said, but followed Kiera
down the stairs.
Seamus stood at the door, nodding. When Kiera’s foot hit
the last step, Seamus swung the door open.
“No!” her mother shouted, shouldering Kiera aside.
In the doorway, Seamus turned and gave her a dirty look.
“They can’t get in and I can’t get out, remember? A little faith
would be appreciated.”
Her mother came to a halt, her face turning red. “Sorry,”
she mumbled.
Seamus shook his head then turned his attention to Kiera.
“You might want to hear this,” he said, beckoning.
Kiera took a deep breath to steady herself then joined
Seamus in the doorway.
One of the Daoine Sidhe stood on the doorstep, the other
two hanging back a respectful distance. The man on the
doorstep was a strikingly handsome specimen, tall and elegant
and dressed to kill. When Kiera looked up into his blue eyes,
she felt in them the same disconcerting sense of
otherworldliness she felt when she looked into Seamus’s. She
stiffened her spine and raised her chin.
“What is it I might want to hear?” she asked.
The Daoine Sidhe bowed slightly from the waist. “I am
Connor, and I come bearing a message from the High King.”
Kiera shivered and tried to pretend it was only because of
the cold. “What’s the message?”
“He has in his custody one Hunter Teague.”
Kiera gasped and covered her mouth with both hands, her
eyes suddenly swimming. Connor smiled, but it was a cold
smile.
“I see this one is known to you.”
“Yes,” she choked out. “Is he all right?”
“He is unharmed, for now. However, he is a member of
the Unseelie Court, and the penalty for trespassing on Seelie
lands is death.”
Kiera tried to put all the pieces together, but failed. What
had Hunter been doing on Seelie land? It didn’t make any
sense.
“Teague claims to have assassinated the Queen of Air and
Darkness,” Connor continued, and once more Kiera gasped.
Her knees felt weak and she swayed on her feet, her vision
suddenly swimming. She might have fallen if Seamus hadn’t
taken hold of her shoulders to steady her. She felt as though
she’d been struck dumb, her brain filled with fog.
“Have you confirmed his claim?” Seamus asked, taking
over when Kiera failed to find her voice.
“We have confirmed that the Queen has been assassinated.
We have no confirmation that Teague is responsible. He would
be dead already if it weren’t for certain . . . other claims.”
Connor looked like he’d eaten something that had gone
rotten. Kiera forcibly snapped herself out of her stupor and
glared at the Daoine Sidhe. “Hunter is the father of my child,”
she said. “And if he’s managed to kill the Queen, then my
child no longer has any tie to the Unseelie throne.”
Disapproval fairly dripped from the Daoine Sidhe’s voice.
“Be that as it may, Hunter Teague is still of the Unseelie Court,
and he has trespassed upon Seelie lands. His life is forfeit.”
Her heart clenched at the thought that Hunter might die
when they were so close to having everything they wanted. But
surely Connor would not be here delivering this message if
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Hunter’s fate were already sealed!
“There must be some reason you haven’t killed him yet,”
she said. “What is it you want?”
“The High King wishes to speak with you.”
Kiera’s voice died again, but her mother had no such
problem.
“Oh, no,” her mother said, grabbing Kiera’s shoulder and
pulling her away from the door. She then placed herself firmly
between Kiera and the Daoine Sidhe. “You are not taking my
daughter to Faerie.”
“Mother—”
“He’s been trying to get you to Faerie since he first
learned about you. Now he’s using Hunter as bait. Don’t fall
for it!”
Kiera heaved an internal sigh. “If that’s what I have to do
to keep them from killing Hunter, then I’ll do it.”
“Kiera, please!” her mother cried, tears glistening in her
eyes. Seamus slung an arm around her shoulders, and she
leaned into him. Kiera slipped past them.
“I have to go,” she said, stepping over the threshold and
out into the cold. The icy December wind stung her cheeks,
and her breath frosted.
“At least wear a coat,” her mother protested, wriggling out
from under Seamus’s arm. He smiled fondly at her back as she
hurried to the coat closet. Then he turned to Kiera.
“A word of advice,” he said. “Unless you wish to remain
in Faerie forever, eat nothing and drink nothing you are given
there.”
The three Daoine Sidhe gasped in horror, and Connor
clenched his fists.
“Disloyal dog!” he growled. “You forget your place.”
Seamus shrugged. “Cathy would have issued the warning
if I hadn’t. I’ve spent twelve long years in the mortal world on
Finvarra’s orders. If he considers my loyalty to be in question
because of my words, then he is not worth my loyalty.”
The three Daoine Sidhe grumbled amongst themselves as
Kiera’s mother returned to the doorway and handed Kiera her
coat. Kiera slipped it on and gave her mom’s hand a squeeze.
“I’ll be back, Mother,” she promised. “Try not to worry
too much.”
“Might as well tell a fire not to burn,” Seamus groused,
putting his arms around her mother.
Kiera smiled. “Take care of her for me, Seamus.”
He nodded gravely. “Always.”
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves as best she
could, Kiera turned to face her escort. “I’m ready,” she said.
Connor put a hand on her arm, and the other two fell into
step behind them. Kiera tried her best to shake the sensation
that she was a prisoner and they her guards.
“Let go of my arm, please,” she said.
Connor’s grip neither loosened nor tightened and he did
not look at her. “Mortals can only enter Faerie by walking nine
times around a faerie circle on the night of the full moon. You
have a faerie circle here in Philadelphia, at Logan Square. As
tonight is the night of the full moon, and as you are a mortal,
the magical resistance of the circle will tend to repel you.”
Finally, he looked at her, but she could read nothing in his
expression. “As long as I have a hand on you, I will be able to
keep you moving forward when the circle urges you to move
some other direction.”
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“We’re nowhere near Logan Square yet,” she protested.
“So let go.”
She dug in her heels, and Connor frowned at her. Then, he
shrugged and let go of her arm. “Very well,” he said, his voice
conspicuously bland.
Feeling as though she’d won a minor victory—over what
or whom, she had no idea—Kiera fell into step with her
Daoine Sidhe escort as they continued on toward Logan
Square.
Kiera felt like her legs had turned to rubber. Only, rubber
didn’t ache. It took everything she had to put one foot in front
of the other, though it seemed her Daoine Sidhe escorts could
walk indefinitely without tiring. She had to bite her tongue to
keep from asking how much farther they had to go.
Connor hadn’t been lying about the effects of the faerie
circle. As soon as they had turned a corner and Logan Square
had come into view, Kiera had found herself spacing out.
When she came back to herself, Connor once more had a hand
on her arm and she realized she was facing away from the
circle. She blinked in confusion, and he gave her a smug smile.
The experience had unnerved her more than she liked to
admit. She’d fallen victim to Hunter’s glamour in the past, but
that glamour she’d fought off with at least marginal success.
The glamour of the faerie circle seemed much stronger, more
like a primal force than a contained one. She wondered how
her mother had overcome the glamour to make her way into
Faerie, but that story would have to wait.
Once they’d made the transition into Faerie, Kiera’s mind
had become her own once more. But it had already been a
lengthy walk from her mother’s house to Logan Square, and it
hadn’t taken long for her legs to start grumbling in protest.
Since they’d come through, it felt like they’d walked about
five miles. When it came right down to it, Kiera didn’t even
know where they were walking to—until they rounded a corner
on the gravel path they’d been following and a massive
building rose from the trees in the distance. Kiera halted in
surprise, for they had not passed a single house or other manmade
structure since they’d arrived.
“That is Tara,” Connor told her. “Finvarra’s palace.”
“Oh,” was all she could think to reply.
Tara towered above the trees that surrounded it, a structure
of white stone with slim turrets rising from the walls that
guarded it. Too delicate-looking to be a fortress, she
nevertheless had the sense that its defenses were formidable.
The stone was lit by countless torches that flickered slightly in
the breeze.
Kiera told herself firmly that after all she had gone
through, she mustn’t allow herself to be intimidated by a
building. Before the Daoine Sidhe could prompt her, she
recovered from her brief spell of awe and continued down the
path.
Dawn was just beginning to light the sky when they finally
reached the front gates of the palace. Kiera was stumbling with
exhaustion, her throat parched. She wished she’d thought to
bring some water with her when Seamus issued the injunction
against eating or drinking while in Faerie.
She was so exhausted that she barely paid attention as her
escort led her through the gates and into the halls of Tara. She
noted ornate silver filigree sconces at regular intervals along
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the walls. The floors were covered in rich rugs that shone like
silk. Kiera found herself staring at the intricate patterns in that
silk. They seemed to waver in the flickering torch light. She
swayed slightly. Connor noticed and gave her a superior smile.
“Come,” he said. “You need to rest before your audience.”
Kiera shook her head, trying to clear the exhaustion. “No,”
she said. “I want to see my father now.” Later, she would be
even more dehydrated, and the urge to accept a drink would be
even stronger.
“The High King will see you when he pleases,” Connor
said stiffly.
Kiera rubbed her weary eyes. “If he wants to see me at all,
he’ll see me now. Otherwise, I’ll just head on back home.”
Connor laughed. “You can barely put one foot in front of
another. You will not be going home just yet.”
She straightened her spine and glared up at him. “I’m
Finvarra’s daughter, which means I’ve got a well of
stubbornness in me that I’ve barely begun to tap. He’ll see me
now or not at all.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Connor looked
uncertain of himself. A sour expression detracted from his
good looks.
“I will relay your request to the King. Now, if you will be
so kind as to wait in one of the reception rooms . . .” He made
a sweeping gesture toward a doorway a few yards down the
hall.
Kiera inclined her head and allowed herself to be
deposited in the reception room.
Kiera started awake and found herself lying down on a
plush velvet couch, her head pillowed on the arm. She lay
facing a huge fireplace in which a merry blaze danced. The
warmth seeped into her muscles and urged her to sleep once
again. Instead, she forced herself to sit up, rubbing the sleep
from her eyes even as she yawned.
The sound of a warm chuckle from behind her shocked her
firmly awake. Slowly, she turned.
Just inside the room stood the most gorgeous creature
she’d ever seen. He was tall and slender, his face all clean lines
and sharp, perfect angles. Hair of an almost metallic shade of
gold cascaded well past his shoulders. Eyes of a spectacular
shade of blue peered out from behind long golden lashes, and
his decadent lips were twisted into a smile that would make
many a woman’s knees go weak. He was dressed entirely in
deep blue velvet, trimmed with gold, and on his brow rested a
filigree crown that sparkled with diamonds.
His smile broadened at her silent examination. He held his
hands away from his sides and turned in a full circle as if to
allow her to admire him in his entirety.
Kiera rose slowly to her feet, her mouth so dry she wasn’t
sure she would be able to speak. Finvarra made it momentarily
unnecessary to try.
“You must be exhausted, Daughter,” he said, and there
was a faintly mocking tone to his voice that set her teeth on
edge. “You are, after all, only a mortal. Perhaps you should
retract your rash demand to meet with me before you’ve had a
chance to rest?”
She found her voice easily, though it came out sounding
harsh and husky after his musical speech. “I don’t think so.
I’ve been in Faerie long enough. I want to go home as soon as
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possible.”
Finvarra put on a shocked expression that no one would
have mistaken for genuine. “You wish to leave already? Why,
you’ve just arrived!”
“Yes, I wish to leave. And I wish to take Hunter with me.”
He gestured for her to sit down, and she did so reluctantly.
He sat on a chair facing her, watching her with a calculating
look that did nothing to lessen her discomfort.
“Why should you want the Unseelie creature to go free?”
Finvarra asked. “I’ve heard tell the beast seduced you for his
mother’s evil purposes. Even had he not trespassed on our
lands, his life would be forfeit for the crime he has committed
against my daughter.”
She snorted in disbelief. “Are you really trying to tell me
you feel some kind of paternal sentiment for me? Give me a
break!”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankles.
“Sentiment? I don’t know if I would call it that. But you are
blood of my blood, and such has a ceremonial significance if
nothing else. To allow a man who violated my daughter to live
would reflect poorly on me.”
When she’d first laid eyes on him, Kiera had felt
intimidated by Finvarra. That had quickly passed. “I think it
would reflect damned poorly on you if you killed the father of
your grandchild. I had to grow up without a father, and let me
tell you it was no picnic. I don’t want the same for my own
child.”
He straightened, and the look he gave her suddenly
seemed wise and grave. “Some fathers are best kept away from
their children,” he said.
She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “Hunter isn’t one
of them. He risked everything for me and the child. That’s
more than many fathers have done for their children.”
He arched a golden brow. “Was that a reproof, Daughter?”
Kiera told herself to think before she spoke. The last thing
she wanted was to goad Finvarra into trying to become part of
her life. “No. I just . . . I just want Hunter back.”
“Why? After all he has done, I should have thought you
would dance on his grave.”
“I love him,” she answered simply.
“Ah. I see.” He frowned, his lips pushed out in something
that was almost a pout. “You truly do favor your mother in all
ways.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you are mortal to your core. I might have
thought that being my daughter, you would at least exhibit
some fey traits. But you are homely, and have no special
stamina, and are subject to such foolishness as love. I see
nothing of me in you.”
Kiera was not overly distressed to hear this, but she
figured she’d keep that thought to herself when her father held
Hunter’s life and her future happiness in his hands.
“You do realize that the fey are not capable of what you
mortals call love,” Finvarra continued.
“So my mother has repeatedly told me.” She thought of
the sacrifice Hunter had been willing to make, and she couldn’t
help doubting that there was any truth to this assertion. And
she thought about the look in Seamus’s eye when he put his
arm around her mother. No, if the fey didn’t feel love, it was
because of some cultural restriction that it was possible to put
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aside.
Finvarra smiled. “Yes, I can imagine she’s told you any
number of the aspects of the fey she finds unappealing.”
“I want Hunter back whether he’s capable of loving me or
not. He’s a good man, and he deserves another chance.”
“The Unseelie are incapable of being good. It is not in
their natures.”
“Well then Hunter isn’t Unseelie!”
Finvarra fell silent, regarding her with penetrating eyes.
Kiera caught his gaze and then became trapped by it. She
shivered, despite the blazing fire, for she suddenly sensed the
power of the man who had fathered her, sensed the magic that
clung to him, sensed the ancient wisdom his shallow, selfish
facade hid.
Finally, Finvarra blinked and Kiera was able to look away.
His voice when he spoke held a hint of seduction. “And what
would you be willing to sacrifice to have your lover restored to
you?” he asked.
“What did you have in mind?”
The air shimmered, and then he held out his hand. A
single seed lay in the palm. “You are a mortal woman, doomed
to die. But you are also blood of my blood. You have but to eat
this pomegranate seed, and that part of you which is mortal
will be purged away. You—and the child you carry—will be
immortal.”
Kiera gaped at him, and he smiled.
“You will take up your place in Faerie. Being my
daughter, you will want for nothing and will be paid deference
by all the Seelie Court. I would gladly bestow this gift on you
and on my grandchild. But you will have to give up Hunter
Teague, for I will tolerate no creature of the Unseelie Court in
my own realm.”
“He’s not a creature! He’s a man!”
Finvarra grinned. “If you do not realize the two are one
and the same, then you have not been with enough men, my
child.”
Anger that he dared make jokes while a man’s life hung in
the balance thrummed through Kiera’s blood. Only what felt
like superhuman willpower kept her from answering back
sharply. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek and tried to
force herself to calm down.
The decision would have been a no-brainer if it weren’t
for the child she carried. All well and good to refuse
immortality for herself, but could she also do it for her child?
Finvarra stared at her, still smiling his smug little smile. She
understood better now how her mother could harbor such
virulent feelings toward him. He seemed to have no
compassion whatsoever. If she accepted his offer, would she
lose her own sense of compassion? Would her child never
know what it meant to love?
Kiera shook her head. In the end, the decision wasn’t all
that difficult after all. “I don’t want to be a part of your world,”
she told her father. “Nothing I’ve seen of Faerie has made me
think this is a place I’d want to live, and nothing I’ve seen of
the fey has made me think I want myself or my child to be one.
Especially not if by accepting your offer I condemn Hunter to
death. I want a father for my child.” Her voice hitched on a sob
and her eyes misted. “I want Hunter.”
Finvarra closed his palm, and when he opened his hand
once more the seed was gone. He shook his head. “Truly I am
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glad that the fey are not capable of love, for it makes one do
unimaginably foolish things. Teague’s mortal blood seems to
have similarly corrupted him, for when I told him I would not
let him near you unless he gave up his own immortality, he did
not hesitate.”
Kiera’s heart did a strange flip. “You what?”
Finvarra leaned forward in his chair, a faint smile on his
lips. “I have enough experience with mortals that your requests
. . . nay, demands . . . were not unexpected. If I restored
Teague to you in his immortal state, then chances were high
that he would abandon you when you began to look too old. So
I told him that he had two choices: he could retain his
immortality and never see you again. Or he could give it up,
and be allowed to see you. He chose the latter.”
Kiera was stunned. “So, this was all some kind of test?
You never really meant to kill him?”
He shrugged. “There were ways this interview could have
ended in his death. But none of them was likely.” He rose. “I
had hoped to persuade you to remain in Faerie. But, if I could
not, I wanted to make sure that Teague would not take
advantage of you again. Clearly in both of you, the mortal
blood is stronger than the immortal. You belong in the mortal
world, not here.”
He held out his hand, and Kiera stood to take it. He
clasped her hand in both of his, then bent to kiss the top of her
head. “Go in peace, Daughter,” he said. Then he swept out of
the room, leaving Kiera standing nervous and uncertain.
Moments after Finvarra had left, the door opened again,
and Kiera’s eyes met with the most welcome sight she had ever
seen. “Hunter!” she cried, and she flung herself into his arms
and reveled in the warmth of his embrace.
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Chapter 20
Cathy felt momentarily bereft when Seamus left her side
to throw another log on the fire. When he returned to the couch
and put his arm around her shoulders, she gratefully snuggled
into his embrace. He kissed the top of her head, and she let out
a sigh. She had to keep reminding herself he was a phooka,
because right now he felt so damned human. His arms felt
warm and strong around her, his body felt warm where it
touched hers. And if she didn’t know better, she would have
sworn he actually cared about her. But she knew she’d been
engaged in a lot of wishful thinking where Seamus was
concerned. She would be foolish to trust in a phooka’s
mercurial moods.
Seamus tightened his arms around her. “What are you
thinking about, Cathy? You’ve suddenly stiffened up.”
She shook her head, trying to extricate herself from his
arms. When he refused to let go, she relaxed back into him.
“Nothing,” she said, unconvincingly.
“Come on. Out with it.”
“This isn’t a good time. Not when I’m worrying about my
baby.”
His hand brushed softly against her cheek. “Tell me
anyway. Keeping your thoughts to yourself isn’t going to do
Kiera any good.” He shifted his body, then raised her chin so
he could look into her eyes.
The warmth in his eyes melted her resistence. “I’m just
trying to figure you out,” she admitted.
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what conclusions have
you drawn?”
“That’s just it: I can’t seem to make sense out of you, and
it’s driving me nuts.”
He grinned. “I’m not that complicated, you know.”
“You seem damn complicated to me.”
The grin faded. “You’re only finding me complicated
because you don’t want to admit the truth.”
She shivered in a sudden chill, despite the blazing fire.
“What truth?” she asked faintly.
Seamus stroked her cheek with his index finger, his eyes
locked with hers. He bent and brushed her lips with a sweet,
soft kiss that made her whole body tingle. He broke the kiss
quickly, but his lips hovered millimeters from hers. “That the
fey are not incapable of love after all,” he whispered. “Or, at
least, that this one isn’t.”
Cathy’s heart clenched, and she desperately wanted to pull
away from him. Somehow, she just couldn’t seem to do it. Her
mouth went dry, and her pulse throbbed in her throat. His lips
were so close, and they felt so good on hers. When he kissed
her, it was almost possible to believe his impossible claim.
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As if he’d heard her thoughts, Seamus kissed her again.
Rational thought fled and she lost herself in the sensual
pleasure of his lips.
It seemed as though fifteen minutes had passed when
Seamus finally came up for air. Cathy’s heart pounded fitfully,
and she wasn’t sure but she thought she might actually be
shaking.
“Do you believe in my feelings for you?” Seamus asked.
“Or do you think this is some kind of phooka trick?”
His face looked open and vulnerable as he awaited her
reply. Without consciously deciding to do so, Cathy reached
out and ran her fingers down the side of his face. His eyes
closed in pleasure and she felt his skin shiver under her touch.
“It’s so hard for me to believe,” she said, and felt him flinch.
Guilt stabbed through her. “I’m trying, Seamus. There’s just a
heavy wall of resistance I have to break through. Finvarra—”
Seamus’s eyes snapped open, and the look in them was
fierce and furious. “I am not Finvarra! Why must I continue to
pay for his sins?”
“I’m sorry, Seamus. You’re right, it’s not fair. But he
bruised my psyche, and I can’t just force myself to recover at
will.”
He sighed and his shoulders slumped. “So I have no
chance with you at all.” His voice came out flat, and it was
hard to convince herself that she was not seeing a man in pain.
“I didn’t say that,” she told him. “I’ve come a long way,
you know.” She pressed her hand against his chest and felt the
steady beat of his heart. There was no denying how Seamus
made her feel. If only she could put to rest the fear that resided
stubbornly in her heart!
“I wish you’d take that last step. I wish you’d trust me.”
He rubbed a hand over his eyes, looking tired.
“I do trust you, Seamus,” she said. “Really I do.”
“Just not with your heart.”
As she looked into his earnest, reproachful face,
realization stabbed through her. Who the hell did she think she
was kidding? All right, so maybe some small part of her was
still afraid that Seamus would hurt her, would turn out to be
just as fey and unfeeling as Finvarra. But however that part
might scream and shout warnings, there was a much larger part
that had somewhere within the traumas of the last ten days
finally seen what had been in front of her eyes for who knows
how long.
Cathy smiled and snuggled close to him once more,
wrapping her arms around his neck. “I guess, I’m going to
have to learn to trust you with my heart. Because, you see, I’ve
already given it to you.”
Her smile broadened to see the look of mingled relief and
surprise on his face. Then, she kissed him, and she thought
perhaps she had taken a running start down the road that would
lead to trust.
Hunter had insisted Kiera get some sleep before starting
the return journey. She’d protested, telling him she’d been
warned against eating or drinking while in Faerie. She was
desperately thirsty and eager to get home. Although Finvarra
had stripped his immortality, Hunter felt confident in his
ability to detect enchantments and demanded some pure water
for himself and for her. She had gratefully drunk her fill, then
fallen asleep on the couch, her head pillowed in his lap.
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Hunter couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. He ran his
fingers gently through her tangle of red curls, listening to the
soothing rhythm of her breaths, looking at those sweetly parted
lips he so loved to kiss. She slept so peacefully on his lap, as
though she felt utterly safe in his presence. He was confident
that she held no lingering doubts about his motives, and that
thought filled him with warmth and joy.
Although he heard the door crack open behind him, heard
the near-silent footsteps approaching, Hunter couldn’t take his
eyes off Kiera’s dear, beautiful face.
“You seem genuinely fond of her,” Finvarra said, keeping
his voice low enough not to wake her.
Hunter nodded but still didn’t look at the High King. “I
think the word is ‘love.’ It wasn’t something I’d ever expected
to feel. But now that I feel it, I can’t imagine how my life ever
felt complete before.”
Finvarra leaned forward, resting his forearms on the back
of the sofa and regarding his daughter’s sleeping frame with
undisguised curiosity. “I’ve always wondered about love,” he
said. “The feeling appears to be more valuable to mortals than
anything but life itself, and yet we fey manage to get along just
fine without it. I think perhaps it is a protective mechanism,
that with immortality comes the inability to love. It creates
such . . . volatility in the mortal race. Such passion, such
commitment, such pretensions to permanence. And yet it truly
is nothing more than an illusion. One that an immortal cannot
abide.”
“I loved her before you took my immortality,” Hunter
reminded him. “And the phooka loves her mother.”
Finvarra raised both golden eyebrows. “Oh? I had heard
no rumor to that effect.”
“If you saw them together, you wouldn’t need to rely on
rumors. So I don’t think it’s impossible for the fey to love.”
Finvarra shrugged as though the issue were hardly
important. “Perhaps you are right. But it is at the least very
rare.” He gave Hunter a pointed look, daring him to argue, but
Hunter couldn’t help agreeing with him. Finvarra nodded
thoughtfully. “From what I have seen of love, it is capable of
causing both great joy and great sorrow.”
“Yes. Kiera and I have already experienced both
extremes.”
“Although she will not accept my offer of immortality, she
is still my daughter.” Finvarra’s eyes turned cold and hard, and
Hunter found himself suddenly unable to look away. “See to it
that from this day forward, she experiences nothing but the
joys of love. You are alive only by my sufferance, and should
you cause my child pain, you will live only a short while to
regret it. Are we understood?”
Hunter was finally able to blink. An electric shiver ran
down his spine, a shiver that suggested magic filled the air.
Finvarra’s threat went above the merely verbal, and Hunter
would be bound by his answer. He took a deep breath and
answered carefully. “I can’t promise I will never cause her
pain. Love is not perfect. I am not perfect. But I will do
everything in my power to make her happy. Will that suffice?”
Finvarra cocked his head and regarded Hunter with an
intense scrutiny that seemed to delve into his very soul. Then
the High King’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “I think it will
do.”
He started to rise, but Hunter called him back. “I have a
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favor to ask of you,” he said when Finvarra inquired.
“A favor? I believe I’ve granted you quite a number of
favors already. Perhaps you should endeavor to be satisfied
with what you have.”
Hunter ignored the High King’s quelling look. “You have
ordered me to make your daughter happy. I will have much
more luck doing so if I’m alive.”
Finvarra held his hands out to his sides in innocence. “You
seem to be alive and well. Or is that an illusion of some kind?”
The mockery in Finvarra’s voice grated on Hunter’s
nerves, but he swallowed any hint of protest. “The Queen will
want her revenge against me, when she is corporeal once
more.”
“If you could convince your lady love to remain in Faerie
with you, I could keep you both safe with ease.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen. However, you could
claim to have executed me as you originally planned.”
The look on Finvarra’s face was distinctly dangerous.
“You suggest I lie? Do you know nothing about the practices
of the Seelie Court?”
Actually, he did. Although he suspected the Seelie fey
were as capable of lying as any other living creature, they
prided themselves on never resorting to the outright lie. When
pressed, they preferred to deceive by careful wording or
omission.
“You took my immortality,” Hunter reminded the High
King. “I am now a mortal man, doomed to die. It seems you
might be able to claim my slow execution without it being an
outright lie.”
Finvarra thought about that a moment, then nodded. “Very
well, then. I shall send word to the Queen that I have dealt
harshly with her erstwhile son. I might suggest, however, that
you and Kiera take up residence somewhere rather farther
away from Logan Circle. It is the only connection between the
mortal world and Faerie in all of the Americas, and thus sees
far more immortal traffic. If one of the Queen’s creatures
should accidentally catch sight of you, no illusion in the world
will save you.”
Finvarra circled the couch until he was standing in front of
them, looking down at Kiera’s face as Hunter had been doing
for so long. The High King bent and laid the back of his hand
very softly against Kiera’s cheek. She did not stir at the touch,
nor at the faint tingle of magic in the air. Hunter looked at
Finvarra suspiciously. “What did you do?” he asked.
Finvarra smiled. “I merely gave her my blessing.
Something her mother would never allow me to do once she’d
met me with unclouded mind.”
Hunter had no response, and returned his gaze to Kiera’s
face as Finvarra quietly left the room. When the door snicked
shut, Kiera’s eyelashes fluttered and she murmured sleepily.
Hunter’s heart ached with love. Even knowing he should let
her sleep longer, he couldn’t resist bending to touch his lips to
hers. She returned the kiss hungrily, wrapping her arms around
his neck.
When the kiss finally ended, they were both breathless,
and it was all Hunter could do not to strip off her clothes and
take her right there in her father’s reception room. She smiled,
her eyes shining with joy. “Enough napping,” she said. “It’s
time to go home.” She wriggled against him, sending his pulse
soaring, before sitting up. “Much as I love your lap, I’d rather
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sleep in a real bed.” She yawned and stretched. Her cheeks still
looked pale from exhaustion, her expression somewhat
pinched, but at least she didn’t look ready to collapse in the
first gust of wind.
Hunter drew her to her feet and gathered her into a hug,
holding her tight so she could feel the inevitable effect she had
on him. “When I get you to a real bed, sweetheart, I plan on
making sure sleep is the last thing on your mind.”
Laughing, she extricated herself from his arms. She
grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door so hard he
almost fell.
“Well,” she said, “if that’s the case, then you’d better
hurry up!”
Hunter didn’t have to be told twice.
The End