Hunted (Book One of the Forever Faire Series): A Fae Fantasy Romance Novel (7 page)

Just as the spooked stallion was nearly on top of her, Sampson darted in front of him. A gleaming gauntlet snatched Kayla off her feet. The two horses collided, with Titan whinnying furiously before dancing backward. She found herself cradled against Ryan’s chest as Wallace caught Titan and dragged him back from the stands.

The faces in the crowd turned from horror to awe, and suddenly everyone was applauding and calling out to them. Kayla couldn’t understand what they were saying, but Ryan smiled down at her.

“You’re a brave one, my girl.” He tugged off his gauntlet and used his thumb on her lower lip. “You’ve bitten yourself bloody.”

She saw the crimson drop he took away and shook her head. “How did you do that? How did you move so fast?”

“Come on,” a man shouted. “She saved the kid. Kiss her.”

Ryan had pulled her up in front of him, nearly sitting her in his lap. She reached up and touched his cheek. Delicious heat and light poured over him and he changed again into the pale-haired, jewel-eyed warrior.

“You are real,” she gasped. “I wasn’t hallucinating.”

Ryan’s expression turned bleak. “Lass, what are you telling me?”

Anguish and relief made her tug his face down to hers.

This time the passion was hers, and she gave it all to him as their lips met. The raucous sounds of the crowd, the faire, and the rest of the world faded. He tasted hot and tart, as he cradled the back of her head. His tongue met hers and glided in deep.

Kayla’s body shook as she struggled against his armor, longing to beat her fists against it, hating that steel separated their skins. She wanted to tear it away from him and run her hands over his brutal muscles, and drag him to the ground.

Ryan took his mouth from hers. “We cannot do this, lass. Not now.”

“Then take me somewhere.” She took a handful of his silken hair and laced her fingers through it, but it slipped free of her grasp. “I can’t stand this. Please, Ryan.”

But he did just the opposite and gently lowered her to the ground. With one final look, he rode off to the barn, leaving her staring after him. When she spun around to face the cheering crowd, she saw the dark man had also vanished.

Jannon loomed over her, his lips drawn into a sneer. “Nicely done, groomsman. Will you take up a lance next? Mayhap Ryan’s, between your legs?”

Kayla’s emotions boiled over into scorching fury. Without thinking, she walloped him. Reaching as high as she could, her fist connected with the bottom of his jaw.

As Jannon shook his head and scowled, she rubbed her throbbing knuckles and leaned closer. “Any other questions?”

“You’ve a spine, then.” He rubbed his chin. “I like that.”

“Obnoxious jackass,” she spat.

She headed toward Sampson and Colm, the crowd still cheering behind her. Colm gave her a strange look.

“What, that?” she said. “He was being a jerk.”

“I’ve no doubt,” Colm replied lightly. But as he bent down to straighten the skewed flanchard on Sampson’s right side, Kayla saw his shoulders shaking and nudged him aside.

“It isn’t funny,” she declared. But her own lips twitched as she secured the side armor. “Okay, it is, but don’t laugh. I’m trying to be a groom here, not another damned female underfoot.”

Colm patted her on the shoulder. “Today you’ve done that and then some, lass.”

O
nce the faire
closed at sunset, Ryan watched from a nearby hill as Kayla left the barn and disappeared into the lodge. Inside it would be warm and bright, with all the mortal workers eating together and discussing the events of the day. No doubt the Rowe sisters would be made welcome by the others. Everyone was still talking about how Kayla had thrown herself in front of Titan. Part of him longed to join them, and sit beside the young sisters, and share in their merriment. If only that was what he truly craved.

Colm emerged from the pine grove. “You summoned me, my liege?”

He nodded, still looking down at the lodge. “Is she well?”

“I am happy to report that young Kayla is not begging for you,” his second said. “Or pining. Or even looking. For that, brother, I think you must do more than kiss her.”

“You know what I mean.” Ryan leaned back against the shale outcropping behind him. “And as it happens, she’s the one who kissed me.”

Colm nodded. “I’ll send her packing in the morning.”

“That is not what I mean.” He drove his head back against the rock, sending a small clump of shattered stone to the ground. “She has courage. She would have let Titan trample her to save that child.”

“Aye, and when Jannon was rude to her after, she planted a facer on him.” Colm smiled at his startled look. “Watching her do it ’twas the best moment of the day. Truth be said, the little wench tugs at my own heart. But she is mortal, Ryan, and trouble for you.”

Everything his second said was true, yet Ryan couldn’t bring himself to agree. Even now, when he was convinced she had seen his true form.

“I do have some good news,” his second offered. “Seems we’ve a halfling among us.”

Ryan pushed himself away from the rock. “Who?”

“Her name is Christine Marszalek, and she’s working the children’s archery range. Lawrence told me that he felt her Fae blood the moment he shook her hand.” He sighed. “He also says she’s unaware.”

“Then she hasn’t been awakened.” Of all the Fae they tried to protect, the progeny of Fae trysts with humans were the most precious. “You’ll get close to her, and discover what powers she may possess.”

“As you wish.” Colm dropped his glamor to stretch and shake out his garnet mane. “Lawrence claims she was a dancer before she came here. Perhaps she is of the Sylphlight clan to the north. Their leader has a peculiar penchant for mortal females.”

“Watch her with the children,” Ryan warned. “Sylphlights use dance to mesmerize humans, and she could end up luring a horde of them off the grounds.”

“No dancing,” his second agreed. “What of the Rowes? Have you tired of tempting fate yet, or should I keep them on until you’ve had a proper taste of the little scrapper?”

“I tasted her today,” Ryan said. His eyelids drooped as he remembered. “She’s all firewine and honeybliss. You wouldn’t think it to look at her, but she’s fearsome when she’s riled. I nearly yanked her to the ground to put her under me.”

“You want her that much.” Colm looked worried now.

“Aye, I want her.” Ryan dragged a hand through his hair, and then found himself telling all. “I dream about her every other night. I can’t forget the sweetness of her scent, or the softness of her skin. I want to wallow in her. All the while knowing that if I take another mortal to my bed, there is every chance I will plant my seed in her. No clan will take in one of our get. And if she dies–”

“She’s not Maeve, Ryan. These modern girls, they protect their wombs like castles besieged.” Colm clamped a hand on his broad shoulder. “And never forget that I’ve quiet footsteps, a stone cudgel, and a truckload of iron chains.”

Ryan tried to muster a smile.

“One other thing needles me,” Colm said. “I saw Kayla stare up in the crowd just before she flung herself in front of your Titan. Someone came today, and judging by her look, ’tis someone she has no love for.”

Ryan considered that. “Mortal fear can look much like mortal anger.”

“Aye, but fright wouldn’t set her off on Jannon. She was still livid about something.” Colm restored his human guise and yawned. “And I’m becoming the old woman who natters on about naught, so I’m to bed. I’ll see to the Marszalek girl tomorrow. And you?”

“In your footsteps.”

Ryan followed him down from the hill to the back of the lodge, where he and his men kept their rooms. Once inside, Ryan bid Colm goodnight as they headed in opposite directions. In his large corner suite Ryan lit his oil lamp and closed the windows against the frigid night air. He’d kept Elias’s sturdy furnishings, which the old huntsman had built to accommodate Fae bulk. But the big, empty bed held no appeal for him. He instead settled into the intricately-carved oak rocker by the fireplace, where Elias had spent so many nights with Lily on his lap. The love they had shared still lingered, permeating the wood, and comforting him as much as the heat from the flames.

His thoughts drifted back to the joust, and the sight of Kayla leading the horses into the arena. For a moment she had looked like a child between the two great beasts, and then she’d looked at him with those gilded eyes. He could almost believe her Fae, the way her skin had glowed, like a woman made of sunbeams and magick.

Ryan closed his eyes, and the arena in his memory emptied of mortals and Fae. Titan and Sampson left Kayla to shuffle off and graze, their armor falling from their brute bodies, their tails sifting in the breeze.

“Soon the battle is to begin,” Kayla said as she came to him. She pressed her small hand against his bare chest. “Who do you think will prevail, my lord?”

He peered down at her, and staggered back as he saw the heart-shaped face of his lost bride.

“Maeve?”

“Aye, Ryan.” She let her hand fall to her side as Kayla’s jeans and blouse flowed into Maeve’s favorite green gown. “Do not fear me, Husband.”

He saw her fading and rushed to take her in his arms. “No, you cannot leave me again.”

“My time has passed, and our son awaits.” She touched his face. “You have kept me in your heart so long, my darling, but you must release me now. It is her time.”

“Her?” He looked over her head to see Kayla sitting in the empty stands. “She can never take your place, beloved.”

“Not so, for I took hers.” Maeve’s smile turned sad. “And soon you will need her at your side. Death is coming again, Husband.”

Ryan tried to hold onto Maeve, but her specter thinned into nothingness, leaving him facing Kayla.

She climbed down from the stands and left the arena. Ryan followed her through the empty faire, across the boundaries and into the snowy woods. The daylight faded to moonbeams, and dappled the drifts with silver pools.

“I’m here,” she said lowly.

Kayla stood beside a campfire, her small form draped in bronze silk and amber lace. Everything about her tugged at him, but he could still see Maeve’s sweet, sorrowful features.

“You are not my love,” he said through clenched teeth. He went to her, gripped her by the arm, and dragged her against him. “You are my loneliness.” He shook her. “My lust.”

“If that’s what you want,” she said mildly.

She dropped to her knees and lifted her face as she unlaced the front of his trousers.

Ryan took in a sharp breath as he felt her long, cool fingers freeing him from his smalls. The sight of her clasping his shaft sent a surge of hot blood to his groin.

“You would put your mouth on me?”

Her eyes darkened as she locked gazes with him, and brought his engorged cockhead to her pretty lips for a feathery kiss.

“You thought of this the first time you saw me.” She lashed her tongue over him. “And this.”

He threaded his fingers through her hair, urging her mouth closer. As she engulfed him and suckled he let his head fall back and groaned.

Kayla’s mouth glided on him, up and down, her head bobbing slowly as she relished his stiff rod. The soft, liquid sounds of her loving sank into him. The feel of her lips and tongue as she sucked him drew his balls up tight and hot. He wanted to pump his cream into her, and watch her swallow it, every pulse, every drop–

“Kayla,” he moaned, and jerked awake.

Heart hammering and cock throbbing, he nearly fell as he staggered up from the chair. He stared back at it, and wiped the sweat from his hot face with a shaking hand. His eyes burned and blurred as he braced himself for the well of guilt and self-hatred that came with every thought of Maeve. But none came as his shaft pressed against his laces, as hard and swollen as if he’d just skewered Kayla’s lips with it.

Ryan stomped out of his rooms and left the lodge, taking with him his seething temper as he stalked out to the forest. His boots left deep depressions in the frozen ground, and a trail of tiny, blazing stars hung in the air behind him. As he made his way through the evergreens, the rake of their needles set his arms to swinging. Showers of brittle green bits pelted the snow. Wood creaked and snapped as dozens of trees toppled in his wake.

D
irk left the drugged
, bruised whore in his bed, and pulled on his trousers before he yanked open the motel room door. In the process it ripped off its hinges, and he flung it against the wall. The crash it made when it fell to the mottled carpet made the stripper open her bleary eyes before closing them tightly.

“Is the place burning down?” Dirk demanded of Beck.

“Worse,” his cousin said, and gestured at the motel’s frost-covered swimming pool. “Jarek awaits your report.”

Dirk brushed the smaller man aside and strode over to the edge of the pool. They had removed all the lights from the exterior of the hotel, and the only thing illuminating the surface of the dirty water was an oval of shadow that glimmered around the edges.

Forcing himself down on one knee, Dirk bowed his head. “My liege. We have been awaiting your pleasure.”

“So I am told. It seems that is all you have done since leaving the enclave.” Jarek Blackstone’s craggy face appeared in the center of the watery shadow. “You have found her again?”

“I have.” Dirk rose to his feet and quickly related what he had learned. “When I discovered the sisters at Forever Faire, I would have captured them, but they are being protected by a large band of Fae outcasts disguised as mortals.”

“You have forgotten how to fight, my son?” Jarek demanded.

“No, sire.” He kept his expression bland. “Even now my hands itch for my blades. But your orders were to take the woman quietly. We cannot do that if we must first engage so many Fae warriors. They have also set up boundary spells to repel Dark Fae. I was only able to enter–”

“I care not what you have to do to get her,” his father said flatly. “Kill the outcasts, take the changeling and her sister, and deliver them to me.”

“Their leader is Ryan of the Sheridan,” Dirk said. “You remember him, I think. He laid waste to near every Dark Fae clan in Ireland before he was cast out.”

Jarek uttered a curse that caused the pool water to boil. Dirk fought the urge to back away.

“You are not a fool, my son, or a coward. Lure the women away if you must. Perhaps you may use Sheridan’s weakness against him. Give it a good stir, and he may even help you do the work.”

Remembering the tales of Sheridan gone mad, Dirk swallowed. “I will need more men.”

“You have most of our clan with you,” his father said, derision dripping from each syllable. “If the lot of you cannot outwit two females and a troop of exiles, what good are you to me?”

“I understand, Father.” Dirk wasn’t going to press the issue. He needed Jarek to believe he was still cowed by his will. “I will send word…”

Dirk watched the portal melt away into the filthy water.

Beck came to stand beside him. “He fears you, Cousin. He was the same with my sire when he ruled as clan leader. That is why Jarek murdered him. He cannot abide anyone who stands in the way of what he desires.”

Neither could Dirk. “When I wrest control of the clan, I will give my father to you, as promised. Now, tell the men to assemble at midnight. I will need maps of the renegade encampment and the lands surrounding it.”

As Beck bowed and hurried off, the sound of uneven footsteps made Dirk turn to see the stripper sneaking away from his room. He calmly strode over, freezing her in place. He seized her by the hair and dragged her back inside. As terrified screams pierced the night air, all of the shadows in the motel courtyard began slithering toward the open doorway.