Prince of Air and Darkness (20 page)

“Why don’t you come inside,” she found herself asking Hunter.

His eyes widened just slightly, his expression turning vulnerable. “Are you sure?”

Maybe it was all just more acting. Maybe he was afraid if he seemed too eager, he’d scare her off again. But Kiera suspected what she was seeing was real. Men like Hunter were afraid to let people see anything that might be construed as a weakness, and she doubted that this was the tack he’d take if he were still hunting her.

Instead of answering, Kiera took a step backward, opening her door wider. Hunter hesitated a moment longer, looking at her in a way she might almost have described as wary. Then he visibly forced himself to cross her threshold. His face lost a little color, and he closed his eyes as if he was in pain.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, then wondered why she cared.

“The horseshoe,” he answered tightly. “If I weren’t half mortal, I wouldn’t have been able to cross the threshold at all, but even so, it was . . . Unpleasant.”

“Oh.” Kiera had assumed that opening the door counteracted the horseshoe’s effects. She almost apologized for the misunderstanding, but then swallowed the words before they escaped her lips. She didn’t owe Hunter any apologies. He stood awkwardly in the entryway as she closed the door, like he wasn’t sure she was okay with him coming in further.

“What do you want to know?” he asked when she turned to face him.

To say she had a lot of questions was a laughable understatement, but she tried her best to compose herself and get to the very heart of what was troubling her.

“Why did you agree to do it?” She had from the very beginning sensed the predator inside of Hunter, but as uneasy as he’d made her, she had a hard time reconciling the man she’d thought she known with a man who would cold-bloodedly seduce her with the aim of getting her pregnant. The cruelty of the plan made her heart ache.

Hunter gave a bark of bitter laughter. “One does not survive to adulthood in the Unseelie Court if one doesn’t learn to obey the Queen’s every command.” The humor faded, leaving only the bitterness. “When she ordered me to seduce you, I tried to keep myself completely detached. I told myself it was just a job, and that I had no choice in the matter.” He met her eyes for the first time since he’d stepped into her apartment. “I tried not to care, but you made that impossible.”

Kiera shook her head in disbelief. What was so special about her that he would risk the Queen’s wrath to let her go?

That thought triggered another question, one that made Kiera shiver. “What’s going to happen to you when the Queen finds out you’ve failed?”

Hunter’s face was a blank mask, but the pallor in his cheeks spoke volumes. “It doesn’t matter. I will be punished, but I knew that last night, and I still couldn’t force myself to betray you.”

“That hardly answers the question. You promised me answers.”

Hunter shook his head and turned away from her, his movements jerky and agitated. “I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen, and I wouldn’t tell you even if I did. It will be unpleasant, but I’ll survive. It will hardly be the first time I’ve displeased her.”

“So she won’t kill you?”

Hunter’s brief hesitation before answering spoke volumes. “No.” She stared at him hard, and he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “All right,
maybe
. I honestly don’t know. I’ve been useful to her in the past, so if I convince her I tried my hardest, she’ll probably let me live. But with the Queen, you never know.”

Kiera couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Hunter to grow up in the Unseelie Court knowing his own mother might torture and kill him on a whim. She was still reeling from the pain he had caused her, but she couldn’t help wondering . . . if their positions had been reversed, if she’d been ordered to do something so heinous, would she have bravely defied the Queen’s orders? She had an uncomfortable suspicion that she wouldn’t.

“It still doesn’t matter,” Hunter said quietly. “I have no control over how she’ll punish me for failure. All I can do is try to make sure she never knows I’ve let myself become . . . attached.”

Attached.
Was he genuinely attached to her? Everything inside Kiera screamed that the answer was yes. She’d been in his bed last night, not only willing, but eager to let him take her. Perhaps it had been some kind of strategic move, but she honestly couldn’t see how. If he’d gone through with his plan, she could have been pregnant even now, and he could have been assured success. What reason could he possibly have had for letting her go, other than that he cared?

He was still the enemy. He was a member of the Unseelie Court, and the son of evil personified. One show of genuine human emotion didn’t suddenly make him into a good guy. There was no reason whatsoever she should feel the urge to wrap him in her arms and tell him everything was going to be all right.

“So, you’re going to just . . . keep up the charade?” she asked before she could do something truly stupid.

Hunter nodded. “For as long as I can get away with it. She’ll eventually get impatient with my lack of progress and recall me to Faerie, but until then, you’ll be seeing a lot of me.” He looked uncomfortable. “If there’s any chance you could act like you don’t hate my guts—at least in public—I’d be forever grateful. My mother has spies watching me, and if I can put off being recalled to Faerie . . .” He shivered. “Well, I don’t suppose that would make anything better for me, but I’m in no hurry to face whatever punishment she decides to dish out.”

“Couldn’t you just . . . run away, or something? Go into hiding?”

He smiled, but the haunted look in his eyes told a different story. “I’ve tried before. It hasn’t gone well. My mother has a very, very long reach.”

Kiera wished there was something she could do to help him. It didn’t matter what he’d done to her—he’d been in an awful situation from the start, and it was very much worse now. She wasn’t even sure she felt angry at him anymore. The sense of hurt and betrayal was still there, but the anger seemed to have fizzled and fled.

“I’ll get out of your hair now,” Hunter said. “Thanks for giving me a chance to talk to you. I know I can’t ever make up for what I’ve done—”

Kiera cut him off with a shake of her head. “No, you can’t. But I understand why you did it, and I’ll try not to do anything to get you sent home early.”

Hunter’s eyes were suspiciously shiny, and he swallowed hard. He blinked a couple of times, and his expression returned to something like normal. She thought he was about to say something, but her doorbell sounded before he started to speak.

Kiera frowned. Who the hell could that be? She wasn’t used to having unknown visitors at her apartment—the front desk usually called to let her know someone was coming up.

Unless that someone already lived in the building, like Hunter, or was on the short list of people who were allowed to come up without notice, the list that consisted of her mother, and Jackson. Period.

The doorbell rang again, and to her surprise, Hunter moved first, taking a step in front of her and glancing out the peephole. The puzzled frown on his face when he turned to her told her it wasn’t her mother. Which left—

“It’s your friend, Jackson,” Hunter said in a voice just above a whisper.

Kiera narrowed her eyes at him and put her hands on her hips. “How come you know Jackson by name and on sight? I’ve never introduced you. And why were
you
looking out my peephole?”

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think I’d come after you and not know who your friends are, do you? And I wanted to make sure your visitor wasn’t one of my mother’s servants. I haven’t given them any cause to come after you, but it’s a good idea to be cautious when the Unseelie Court is involved.”

The doorbell rang again, three times in quick succession.

“Come on, Kiera!” Jackson called from outside. “I know you’re in there.”

She couldn’t imagine what Jackson was doing here on her doorstep without having called first, but it would be wishful thinking to hope he’d go away if she kept ignoring him. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

“He’s been dying to meet you,” she told Hunter, then braced herself and opened the door.

Jackson worked as a vet tech for his day job—the pet-sitting business was merely a side venture—and he’d obviously come straight from work, still dressed in hospital-green scrubs. He didn’t wait for an invitation to come in, just swooped in and gave her a rib-crushing hug she wasn’t expecting.

“What the hell, Jackson?” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “What are you doing here?” She tried to extricate herself from his arms, but he didn’t let go.

“Your mom called me,” he said, and she groaned. “She said you needed a friend right now, so I—”

His voice cut off suddenly, and Kiera figured that meant he’d finally noticed Hunter. She couldn’t imagine what Hunter was thinking, or what kind of look he was giving her best friend. Then again, considering the fact that he’d apparently stalked her before making his first move, Hunter probably already knew Jackson was gay.

This time, when Kiera tried to slip from Jackson’s arms, he let her.

“Well,
this
is awkward,” Jackson said brightly, his eyes a little too wide as he looked back and forth between Hunter and Kiera.

Kiera risked a glance at Hunter and saw the chilly stare he’d fixed on Jackson.

“I recognize your voice,” Hunter said, still staring daggers at Jackson. “You called me to set up a massage appointment. You were using a phony name.”

Jackson blushed and looked guilty. Kiera gave Hunter a warning look. After everything he’d done, he had no right to be angry at that small deception. He took the hint with gratifying speed, and the aggression bled out of his body language as his expression changed to a small, wry smile.

“We haven’t been formally introduced,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Hunter Teague.”

Jackson got over his chagrin instantly. “And I’m Jackson James,” he responded, shaking Hunter’s hand while giving him a none-too-subtle visual once over. Kiera wished she hadn’t opened the door.

“Charmed,” Hunter said, still smiling. Jackson didn’t quite wince, but there was a slight tightening around his eyes that told Kiera Hunter’s handshake was . . . firm.

Jackson probably wanted to rub the soreness out of his knuckles when the handshake ended, but Kiera suspected testosterone wouldn’t let him. She’d discovered early in their acquaintance that gay men were perfectly capable of being macho when the mood suited them.

Jackson dragged his attention away from Hunter and cocked his head at Kiera. “Your mother led me to believe the two of you had a spectacular falling out last night. I was expecting to find you curled up on the couch with a quart of ice-cream.”

Sometimes, Kiera wished she’d been born an orphan. No doubt her mother had meant well, but this was about the last thing she needed right now. She didn’t even want to know exactly what her mom had told Jackson—obviously, not the truth, but if she was going to make up a story, she probably should have clued Kiera in to the details before siccing Jackson on her.

“I guess your mother was mistaken,” Jackson continued. “Three’s a crowd, so I’ll get out of your hair.”

“That’s all right,” Hunter said, moving toward the door. “I was just leaving anyway.”

“Please don’t let me interrupt,” Jackson said, trying to look innocent while simultaneously putting a suggestive lilt in his voice.

Hunter and Kiera shared a look. There were a whole lot of things unresolved between them, and there probably always would be. At least until he returned to Faerie and she never saw him again. But at least they’d hashed out a fragile truce, and that was the best she could hope for when the wounds were still so raw.

“You aren’t interrupting anything,” Kiera told Jackson, but her gaze remained on Hunter. “We’re done here.”

Hunter gave her a brisk nod, then reached for the door. “It was truly a pleasure to meet you in person,” he said over his shoulder to Jackson. He sounded snide, but his next words made Kiera wonder if there was some sincerity in there after all. “Cathy wasn’t wrong; Kiera does need a friend right now, and I’m glad she has you.”

He was gone before either Jackson or Kiera could stutter out a reply.

Chapter 11

Hunter felt lighter as he rode the elevator back down to his apartment. There was still a lot wrong with his world—he was still likely to suffer a slow and painful death, after all—but he was pretty sure he’d succeeded in lessening Kiera’s hurt. She would never forgive him for what he’d done, and he’d never expect her to, but at least he’d been able to convince her there was no malice in his actions. He wished he could convince her that he genuinely cared about her, but it was probably better for everyone if she remained wary and mistrustful of him.

Hunter’s mood darkened when he entered his apartment and saw Bane sitting on his couch, filthy feet propped on the coffee table like he owned the place.

Hunter had originally felt like an utter fool for going to talk to Kiera after everything that had happened, but now he thanked his lucky stars he’d done it. Clearing the air between them had at least restored some semblance of rationality in Hunter, and he didn’t immediately dive on the goblin and start stabbing. He thought that showed an impressive amount of self-control.

Bane didn’t bother to get up off his couch—or take his feet off the coffee table—as Hunter stalked into his living room, working hard to keep his hatred contained deep inside.

“What are you doing here?” he asked through gritted teeth.

Bane tried to blink innocently, but no amount of glamour could ever make the goblin look innocent. “Why, I’m here for your progress report, of course. The Queen wants an update.”

Of course she did. And Hunter was going to have to be very, very careful what he said, on the assumption the Queen had spelled the goblin so he could tell truth from lies. Luckily, Hunter had a lot of practice talking his way around his mother’s favorite spell.

“You can tell her I made significant progress last night.” Which he had, until his conscience had gotten the better of him. “The girl came to my bed with gratifying eagerness.” Again, technically true. “If the Queen hadn’t insisted on trying to rush me, I probably would have had her in my bed a lot sooner.”