Authors: Leia Shaw
After another long silence, she asked, “Marcelo, how do
you know where the door to the Underworld is?” He could almost hear the wheels
turning in her head.
“I just feel it. Like static electricity.” Since he’d
spent so much time in the Underworld passing through doorways all over the
world, he knew instinctively where to find them. The Underworld called to him.
He hoped they could slip in without drawing the
guardian’s attention. Gethin, the red dragon of Wales, had been charged by the
gods to guard the doorway. Once someone was granted access they could come and
go as they pleased. But gaining access was tricky. Like most dragons, Gethin
was obsessed with power. And he had a lot of it. Dragons were almost as old as
the earth – and most of them more than a little mad. Able to take human or
dragon form, they liked meddling in human affairs for sport. Some had started
using the earth as a chessboard, playing games of strategy against one another.
Gethin used his position as guardian to his own
advantage, collecting debts and favors from entrants for future use in these
petty and catastrophic games. Getting Aila through the door could prove
difficult. And dragons, other than the gods, were the most dangerous race of
supernaturals.
“So…there are no specific directions?”
She was up to something. He could see the scheming in
those amber eyes.
“No,” he answered. Well, nothing he could describe. Even
if he could, there was no way in hell he would tell her. Yes, he was a hypocrite.
He expected her never to lie to him, yet when it came to safety, he’d do
anything to protect her. And right now, he wanted her by his side until they
reached the safety of the Underworld. Then she could express her wrath by
ignoring him for a time. A short time.
“But even if there were, you do not want to enter without
me,” he told her, searching her face for clues to her nefarious plot. “Trust me
on that one.” She chewed a nail, a habit, he’d noticed, when she was deep in
thought. “Why would you need directions to the door,
querida
?”
She attempted a casual shrug that did nothing to prove
her innocence. He was secretly pleased she was such a bad liar. “I just thought
it would be good for me to know where we’re going. Just in case something
happens to you.”
“Nothing will happen to me. We will enter the Underworld
together.”
“You can’t guarantee that. You might be a good fighter
but you’re not invincible.”
“Ah, but when it comes to your safety,
querida
, I
am
invincible. I would happily give my life to save you from danger.” He smiled
and kept his tone light, though he meant every word. “And then I would come
back as a ghost and kill the fuckers that dared mess with you.”
She arched a brow. “Aren’t you already dead?”
“Do I look dead?”
Her gaze raked over his body as her tongue darted out and
licked her lips. It took all his strength not to take her up against the
nearest tree.
“No, you don’t look dead. Is that another myth?”
“Well, you have to die with vampire blood in your body to
become a vampire. But think of it more as a rebirth. My heart beats, I breathe,
I bleed, I feel pain.” He stepped closer, nudging her playfully with his
shoulder. “And since meeting you, I feel joy. I smile, I laugh –”
“You growl,” she interrupted with a smirk.
He chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I do growl. You have to
forgive my domineering ways. When I served the Dark King I commanded large
armies of violent werewolves. There was a lot of snarling and growling. I
settled challenges with my fists and teeth, not flowery words.”
“Earlier you told me not to judge you by your words, but
by your actions.” He didn’t like where this conversation was going. “You stole
my blood. You broke your promise. What do those actions say about you?”
That you’re too good for me and I
don’t deserve you.
“That I’m not perfect. That I make mistakes. But I
own up to them. I apologize and I make amends. And,
querida
,
I do not make the same mistakes twice. On that you’ll just have to trust me.”
“I’ve been with Jimmy for six months, Marcelo.” Her voice
was somber now, like she was getting ready to threaten him. “I still don’t trust
him completely.”
Six months? He wanted to laugh. That was nothing compared
to the centuries they would spend together. “Trust is a risk. It has nothing to
do with the person being trusted, but the one doing the trusting. Six months,
six years, six days, it doesn’t matter. If you are waiting for someone who will
never cause you any pain, you’ll be waiting forever. Love hurts. If it doesn’t,
you’re not doing it right. Only you can decide if it’s worth the pain.”
Her forehead creased and she nibbled on a thumb nail as
she stared down at the rocky terrain. Never had he wished he could read
someone’s mind so badly.
“What’s in the Underworld?” she asked.
Things I don’t want you anywhere
near.
“Werewolves, vampires, demons. Criminals of any supernatural race.
Some find solace in the Underworld and stay voluntarily. Others are forced to
remain.” He looked down at her small, feminine figure, so soft and sweet. Was
he taking her away from one dangerous situation only to place her in another? “It
is a perilous place,
cosita
. Your little bow
won’t save you from the creatures that live there.”
She shot him a dirty look. “I seem to remember my little
bow saving your ass from a few ravenous werewolves not long ago.”
He chuckled. “I would not have survived eight hundred years
if I couldn’t handle a few stray wolves.”
Looking up at him with a serious expression, she asked, “Do
you happen to have a pin?”
“No. Why?”
“To pop your giant head before it makes off with your
body.”
He laughed out loud then yanked her up against his chest
and kissed the hell out of her. He couldn’t help himself. When he pulled back,
her lips were red and swollen. He liked her that way. Freshly kissed, a little
surprised. She stumbled back when he released her. He tried to steady her but
she shrunk back.
One large stride and he had her up against a tree. He
smiled with a mocking edge he knew would make her hackles rise. “What’s the matter?
You survive a werewolf attack, but you’re scared of a little kiss?”
“I’m not scared,” she bit. His smile widened, glad to see
her spirits back. Though her spitfire determination sometimes set his teeth on
edge, he preferred it to the dismal mood of the last couple hours.
One moment her eyes were fire, sharp and angry, an
instant later they were pools of worry. She bit down on the bottom lip he was
just about to taste. “Marcelo.” Her voice was soft, vulnerable. “What would you
say if I wanted to go to the Unseelie kingdom? Find out about this prophecy?”
And now we’re back to plotting
.
He pushed away from the tree with a discouraged sigh. “I’d say, not a
chance.”
“Why?” She rushed forward to keep up with his rapid pace.
“It seems like they want to help me.”
“Can’t trust them.”
“And the Seelie fae?”
“Definitely can’t trust them.”
She was silent for a moment. “But according to this
prophecy, I have some kind of destiny I’m supposed to fulfill.”
“Forget it. They can find someone else.”
“But…destiny is like fate. I can’t run from it forever.”
With a heavy sigh, he turned to look at her, halting her
steps. “Aila, do you know how many oracles are out there predicting random
cataclysmic events? Foretelling destinies and omens and prophecies? Do you know
how many actually come true? A very small fraction. Believe me, if you don’t
unite the fae, someone else will.” As a second thought, he added, “Or they’ll
just kill each other. Either way, not our problem.”
Marcelo could tell by her glowering eyes and small pout
that she wasn’t happy with his answer, but she said no more on the topic.
“I need to use the bathroom,” she told him after they’d
been walking silently for a spell.
He searched her face, looking for a lie. Convinced she
was sincere, he walked away to give her privacy.
“Ouch!” Her voice came from far into the trees a few
minutes later. He raced through the woods, following her scent and almost
stopped short when he smelled blood. Her blood. His heart sped as his feet
moved faster across the rocky ground.
“What happened?” he asked when he reached her. She sat on
a boulder clutching the side of her calf where a trail of blood dripped down
her leg.
“I fell,” she answered. “It looks deep.”
“Let me see.”
She moved her hand to reveal a deep gash. He ripped off a
piece of his shirt from around her waist and pressed it to the wound.
“I’m going to need a bandage,” she said.
He shook his head. “I’ll wrap the cloth around it –”
“Marcelo!”
He looked into her watery eyes.
“Please!”
With a sigh he gave a curt nod then
traversed
to a small town they’d driven through on
their journey from Denver. He searched the downtown strip mall, spotted the pharmacy
then ran inside. He grabbed three boxes of different size bandages, a roll of gauze,
and alcohol wipes.
When he returned, she was gone. He picked up her scent
and followed it. His mind slipped into hunting mode – focused, lethal. It scared
him. He couldn’t lose himself to it again. Not when he just started to win her
back.
But she ran from me!
the
vampire in him roared.
Punish her!
He gave his
head a forceful shake, reigning in the angry thoughts. The look on her face
when he had betrayed her flashed into his mind. Tear-stained cheeks, blood-shot
eyes, bottom lip trembling. It calmed him, kept the human in control.
He should have known better than to fall for the injury
scam. As if a fae would randomly trip over something on flat terrain with the
light of the coming dawn. He wouldn’t come down hard on her, but he wouldn’t be
letting her out of his sight again either. When he saw the honey-colored hair
flowing behind the agile body, running and hopping over rocks just a short
burst ahead, he
traversed
in front of her. With
her eyes wide, she halted to a stop.
“You cannot outrun me, love,” he said, proud of himself
for managing his anger.
She smiled slyly, putting him on edge. “No,” she agreed.
“But I can outsmart you.”
Without warning she threw a handful of rocky sand in his
eyes. By the time he cleared his vision, she had an arrow nocked a mere three
feet away. He sighed. She was becoming far too comfortable pointing that thing
at him.
“That won’t kill me, Aila,” he said in a dry tone.
“I’m not trying to kill you. Just injure you so you’ll
let me go.”
“Never!” he barked, letting his anger show. To hell with
redemption, he would scare her if it meant she’d be safe.
“I have to do this, Marcelo.”
He shook his head. “Safety comes first,
querida
. Always. I will stop you from this
foolishness. You know it is only a matter of time.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Try.” It was one word. A direct
challenge.
“I’m glad you’ve found your courage,
querida
, but I’m disappointed in the way you’ve chosen
to display it. Will you not include me in your plans?”
“You’ll stop me. You’ll pretend to go along with it at
first then stop me before I fulfill my purpose. Before I learn who I am.”
“
I
know who you are!” he roared, causing her to
jump in alarm. “You are Aila Quinn. Formerly a frightened foster child. Now an
intelligent, charming, generous, and, by the gods,
fully
fucking backboned
fae woman! And you belong with me! By my side. In my
bed. Anything we do, Aila, we do it together. Because you are mine!” He took a
deep breath and, with a pained expression, he asked, “Isn’t that enough for
you?”
Aila’s eyes were wide with shock. Her mouth opened, then
closed, then opened again. When her brows furrowed and her mouth snapped shut
for the third time, he took advantage of her shaken confidence. Like a cobra,
his hand shot out to grab her bow.
But it was too late. Searing pain erupted in his throat.
Hot liquid spilled from his neck flowing down his chest. She’d shot him. He
leaned over on his knees barely able to stay upright.
Coughing and sputtering as blood gushed from the wound,
he said in a raspy voice, “You didn’t hesitate.” He was almost proud of her.
She slung the quiver onto her back and the bow over her
shoulder. “I’m not going to apologize either.”
He sunk to the ground unable to support his weight as his
broken windpipe cut off his oxygen. He watched her, though his vision dimmed,
as she dabbed something on her skin. Then her scent disappeared.
Scheming little witch. I can’t
believe she shot me.
She gave him one last look, her eyes filled with
confusion. Ah, she doubts her decision. Good. I hope she chokes on her guilt.
He could no longer speak, but with his eyes he told her,
“I
will find you and you will regret this.”
Did she hear him? She winced. Yes, she heard loud and
clear. He watched her walk away then the world faded to black.
What have I done?
Aila paced miserably in a clearing about a mile away from
where she’d shot Marcelo in the throat and left him defenseless on the ground.
She chewed her nails and contemplated her next move.
“Shit,” she muttered out loud. She had the plan all
worked out - ditch Marcelo, use the cloaking potion to hide her scent, then call
Kieran to have him take her to the fae. It was a bold move she never would have
considered a week ago. But, hell, she’d already been attacked by werewolves,
archers, and a bloodthirsty vampire, what couldn’t she face? A swarm of the
ever dreaded centipedes? Screw it. She’d stomp on every one.