Prince of Air and Darkness (6 page)

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. If Bane saw that the threat bothered him, it could be a disaster, both for Hunter and for Kiera. “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 wasn’t impossible.

Hunter waited as Bane digested the thought. His heart thundered in his ears and his palms were sweating. No doubt Bane was just baiting him as usual, knowing he could never force himself on a woman, even after a lifetime of corruption by the Unseelie Court. But if Bane was serious about this, and if the Queen thought Kiera’s consent was unnecessary . . .

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.”

Yes, Bane had been baiting him again. And even knowing it, Hunter hadn’t been able to stop the creature from getting under his skin. His hand itched to unsheathe the knife up his sleeve and bury it in Bane’s throat.

The goblin 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. With her ability to shrug off his glamour, he would need to court her slowly and with great care or he might
never
gain an invitation to her bed. Hell, he didn’t even think he could get her out on a date in so little time. He shook his head.

“Too soon,” he said. “I need time to get her to trust me.” His conscience stirred uncomfortably. He’d seduced women before, but never like this, never for the purpose of anything but mutual pleasure. He’d never violated anyone’s trust like he planned to violate Kiera’s. But it wasn’t like he had a choice; his mother had been quite clear about that when she’d given him this mission. He wished his damned conscience would just go away for good. It was a highly irritating and completely counterproductive accessory for a member of the Unseelie Court. He was tired of having to wrestle with it all the time.

“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.” Anticipation glowed in his eyes. He was the ideal of the Unseelie Court, unfettered by conscience of any sort. Hunter both loathed and envied him for it. “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. After the way she’d brushed him off today, there was no chance Kiera would go out on a date with him so soon. Somehow, he was going to have to engineer a meeting before then, and it couldn’t be just a “chance” encounter in the lobby or 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. “I need a favor” Hunter said.

The puzzlement in Bane’s face was almost enough to make Hunter laugh despite the seriousness of the situation.

“A favor?” Bane repeated.

“Yeah. I need you to find a kobold to rig up a device for me.” Kobolds were a breed of goblin who had a natural affinity for things mechanical. And unlike most of the fey, they could touch unalloyed iron without burning themselves and poisoning their blood.

Bane gaped at him. “You couldn’t possibly be asking me to
help
you!” the goblin said incredulously.

Hunter’s voice was grim, and he was sure his expression was as well. “If I’m to win a kiss in three days, I’ll need some way to force prolonged contact. I need a device that will trigger the elevator in my building to get stuck when Kiera and I are in it. Seems like something a kobold should be able to manage.”

“Hey, shit-for-brains, I want you to fail, remember?”

“But you’re not an idiot, and you don’t want to taste the Queen’s wrath any more than I do.
She
wants me to succeed. If refuse to help me with the mission, she will know, and you will pay.”

Even the glamour and the disguise couldn’t hide the effect that reminder had on the goblin. No one, not even her favorite toady, was immune from the Queen’s wrath. His lips curled in a snarl, but he had no more choice in the matter than Hunter did.

“I’ll bring the toy tomorrow,” he said, and it looked like the words caused him real pain. “But I’ll make you pay for it someday.”

Hunter turned and strode away before his urge to shove his knife in the creature’s throat became overwhelming.

Chapter 3

“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. There were no mysteries about Jackson, and no sexual tension to grapple with. He was the perfect antidote for the fog of confusion Hunter caused. Except, of course, for the fact that he knew her too well not to see something was bothering her. She just wanted to forget all the confusion, not talk about it.

“Out with what?” she asked, doing her best to look like she had no idea what he meant.

He jabbed a chopstick in her direction. “Don’t think you can put one over on me, young lady. Your face is like an open book. So give.”

She sighed and lowered her fork to her plate. She should have known better than to think she could avoid this conversation. Maybe subconsciously she had. “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.”

“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 drop-dead 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. Well, not all of them, at least. All it takes is a little chemistry, and FLOOF!” His hands mimed an explosion.

“I know,” she admitted, but the thought brought her no comfort. Did she think she and Hunter had chemistry? Certainly there was genuine attraction, at least on her part, but shouldn’t chemistry make her feel
more
at ease with him rather than less so?

“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.

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 waited for Bane to bring the device he’d promised. Practicality told him he had to enlist the goblin’s help, but that didn’t make depending on Bane any less distasteful. It seemed such a cruel irony that it had come to this.

Hunter had come to the mortal world brimming with confidence and sure that Kiera would have no chance against his charms. He would sweep her off her feet, get her pregnant before he had a chance to get attached. He’d even told himself he could accomplish his mission without hurting her—after all, she’d never know he’d impregnated her on purpose, and when he disappeared from her life, he would be just an ordinary failed relationship in her memory.